‘That’s where we are, gentlemen. Over a hundred miles from Mediolanum by the route we took. Now that the enemy has chosen to deny that to us, we face a choice. Our first option is that we attempt to batter our way through them and retrace our steps. Man for man we are better soldiers than they are, but we can expect heavy losses. They outnumber us – substantially once their garrison on Mona tips the scales. If, and more likely when, that happens, they’ll be able to attack us from the front and rear at the same time. Not a happy prospect. Even if we do break through their main army, we’ll have to fight every inch of the way along the route back to Mediolanum, with this snow only making matters worse. We’ll struggle with the baggage train, that’s for certain.’
He paused to let his words sink in and then indicated the coastline. ‘The alternative, which I prefer, is to take this route, towards the fortress at Deva. Not so direct as far as returning to Mediolanum is concerned, but easier going for our wagons. It presents one clear danger, namely that if the enemy hit us from the front, flank and rear, then we’ll have our backs to the shore, and if we are forced to fight a major engagement and lose, we’ll be driven into the sea. In that case, the entire army will be lost.’
Cato knew that the loss of the army would have far-reaching consequences. The destruction of the best part of two legions and their attached auxiliary units would greatly enhance the authority of the Druids and inspire every Celtic warrior who hated Rome to rise up in revolt. There would be too few soldiers left in Britannia to put them down and the stark possibility that the new governor would land on the island with no province left to rule.
‘The trick of it,’ Quintatus continued, ‘is to keep moving as fast as we can along the coast. If we can hold off their army for long enough to get our men on the move, the enemy will not be able to block our line of march and will be forced to follow us, even if their two forces combine. They’ll be snapping at our heels, to be sure, and the rearguard will have its work cut out, but we’ll be able to cover our retreat until we’re clear of the mountains in seven or eight days’ time. As long as we keep the column closed up and maintain the pace, we should be able to withdraw without too much difficulty. Any comments or questions?’
There was a brief pause as the officers reflected on what they had been told. Then Legate Valens raised a hand and Quintatus nodded at him.
‘Whichever route we choose, sir, the men and horses will need feeding. We haven’t been resupplied for some days already. How well provisioned is the army at the moment?’
‘The camp prefect can tell you the answer to that.’
Silanus cleared his throat and glanced round the tent. ‘We have two days’ full rations left for the men and three days’ feed for horses and mules.’
There was some anxious muttering amongst the officers before Quintatus called for silence and addressed them steadily. ‘That is why I have given orders that the men are to go on half-rations as of this moment. You will inform your quartermasters accordingly. There will be some units that carry more than three days’ stock of barley and meat. They will report their excess to Silanus. The same applies to those units with less than two days’ rations. What we have will be shared fairly. That goes for the officers too. Each one of us must accept the same as the men. Any private stocks of food and wine will be surrendered to headquarters. If anyone is caught hoarding, I will treat it the same way I would treat theft – the individual concerned will be beaten by his comrades and denied food or shelter until we reach Mediolanum.’
Given the situation, and the arrival of bitterly cold winter weather, such a punishment was as good as a death sentence, and every man in the tent knew it. There was silence, except for the low moan of the rising wind outside.
‘Very well, I think we can all appreciate the need to move as swiftly as possible. The army will start leaving the camp as soon as darkness falls. Our wounded will be transferred to the surviving warships and transports to make their way along the coast ahead of us. At least they will be spared the discomfort and danger of the march. The artillery will be broken down under cover of darkness and loaded on to their carts. The camp will be abandoned. We can’t afford to waste time demolishing it. We’ll leave a few of our dead set up on the rampart to look like we’re still here. It won’t fool the enemy for long, but it may buy us a few hours at least. The force blocking the mouth of the valley will be relieved at dusk by the remaining cohorts from the Fourteenth, and Prefect Cato’s Thracians and the archers can remain in place. They will light campfires and arrange more of our dead around them before pulling back to join the column on the march. With a bit of luck we will be several miles away before the enemy are aware that we have gone. After that, gentlemen, the race is on.’
Cato quietly sucked in a breath. Some race, he reflected. The army, hungry and cold, would have to march through ice and snow without let-up. Those too slow to keep their place in the line of march would lag behind and be at the mercy of the Druids and their allies. The only prize offered in this race was survival, at a terrible cost in suffering and danger. The price of losing would be that every man standing there in the tent, every man in the camp beyond, would die. For himself he cared little. What did life mean to him now that Julia was no longer there? He felt an awful abyss filled with grief opening up before him and forced himself to step back. He had to be strong, for the sake of his men, for Macro, and for his son. Until the campaign was over. Only then could he afford the luxury of grief.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dawn was still some hours away when Cato reported to Legate Valens, who was warming himself by the embers of a campfire to the rear of the cohorts deployed to hold the mouth of the valley. With him were the commander of the archers and the centurions of the five cohorts tasked with holding the enemy off. The sky had been clear for most of the night, and a half-moon hung low above the horizon, adding its glow to the tiny glint of the stars. The enemy had tried to force their way through late in the afternoon, and again at dusk. Each time the attack had been broken up by volleys of javelins and arrows, and the caltrops and hastily erected field fortifications set up by the legionaries. After the second attempt, the natives had sent large parties of men up the sides of the valley to try and outflank the defenders. The Romans had countered the move, with the two sides struggling through deep snowdrifts to get at each other, dark figures flailing with sword, spear and shield against the white backdrop. At length, the fighting ceased as each side pulled back for the night and foraged for whatever wood was available to light fires, so that they could eat and stay as warm as possible during the bitterly cold night.
Cato and the Blood Crows had been positioned to the rear, ready to cover any retreat in the event that the infantry were forced back from the mouth of the valley. But they had not been needed, and once night had fallen, Cato gave orders for each squadron in turn to feed their mounts and remove their saddles to rest the horses’ backs and minimise the risk of saddle sores. Thanks to the ambient light of the moon and stars and the dull gleam of the snow, there was no opportunity to attempt any surprise movements, and a wary calm settled over the serene beauty of the mountainous landscape.
Then, in the depths of the night, the stars began to blink out, a dim veil of cloud appeared across the face of the moon and a light dusting of snow crystals began to fall. That was when Valens decided to call in his officers and make ready to carry out the most difficult part of his orders.
‘You sent for me, sir?’
‘Ah, Prefect Cato, then we’re all present. Come and stand by the fire.’ Valens gestured to a space amongst the men crowding the warm glow from the dull golden gleam wavering over the embers of the campfire.