Varro felt some respect for the old man and the others who were nodding in agreement to his words. He looked at Brenna and told her to translate once more.
“Take these people then and make your way to your homes where you will be safe.” He turned Staro and galloped away with the others following. They continued to look to the west and eventually turned north east after picking up no fresh signs of the enemy. What the old man had said began to gnaw away at him. He had always believed in the noble nature of soldiering but things were beginning to cast doubts on his chosen way of life. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on the task in hand.
Moving along a wide fairly fast flowing river he had finally found the army he had been searching for. They had made camp on the far side of the water a mile or so before it ran into the sea. Vast amounts of tents were pitched for as far as the eye could see and plumes of smoke billowed up from hundreds of small fires. People were wandering around talking to different groups some were eating and many were preparing weapons, warriors he assumed as he looked beyond them. From his position hidden amongst a wooded glade he could just make out war chariots behind the enemy lines, he lost count after fifty. The chariots were near a forest like area and maybe marsh land beyond where large reeds could be seen.
Working hard to stay out of sight, he and his small party watched the Britons from the safety of the far side of the river amongst uneven ground. It looked to Varro as if Togodumnus had decided to stand and make a fight and had chosen his ground well as he looked out over the huge encampment. He almost admired the chieftain for choosing this place as it was eminently defendable and hard to attack, there was no doubt that this enemy, was tactically astute. Crossing the river to attack them would prove difficult but he knew it would be imperative if they were to succeed.
Together with those in his group, the scouting party discussed the prospect of a battle occurring here. Brenna and her brother had volunteered to stay hidden and watch and wait for the slow moving Roman column to advance after Varro would report his findings to the General and his staff. Knowing that crossing the river was a major factor in what was to come, he had decided to travel further along the river and headed west to try and find a suitable place to cross. Although he estimated that the depth of the water was about shoulder height and therefore crossable, it wouldn’t be so easy with enemy spears and arrows piercing soldiers flesh as they struggled with the water current as well.
He rode on for about an hour and eventually found an old rickety foot bridge that was just wide enough for two men to cross at a time. It had been made from felled trees a long time before and bound together with vines but would be sufficient for a few cohorts to use to get to the other side of the twisting water. Varro had seen how the river had weaved its way through the countryside turning this way and that, almost turning back on itself at some points like a great snake. After finding no shallow areas suitable for a large crossing of men and equipment, he returned to the legion and reported his findings.
Vespasian had listened to his report with interest often stopping him to ask questions or to clear up certain points as he studied the parchment map in detail. A plan of attack would be drawn up and developed with his officers and soon the Legion would march into battle.
And so it was that he now found himself riding on its left flank advancing towards the great barbarian army on the far side of the river. The Legion had woken well before dawn and eaten breakfast consisting of dried hard biscuits and watered wine. It was still dark as he had checked his horse and had to use the flames from a torch burning nearby to make sure his saddle was secure and his javelins easily accessible.
He now felt his heart began to pound and race in his chest in anticipation of the battle to come. He knew that the plan had involved his cohort being the tip of the spear of the attack but that was all, he knew no further specific details. The General had briefed Tribunes and senior Centurions who in turn briefed everyone through their own respective Centurions. There was no requirement for every single soldier to know specific details as they would receive their orders at the time.
Slowly the horse’s in front of his own came to a halt and an eerie silence descended. The noise of the flowing water and the occasional snort of a horse were the only things that broke it. They were to wait for the signal to advance into the water and to then cross the river as quickly as possible for a full frontal assault. He sat back in his saddle and felt the mists cool moisture on his arms and legs and thought about the fight to come as his stomach twisted and lurched in anticipation.
The plan that he was aware of was for the cavalry attack to withdraw as soon as their infantry reinforcements reached their position and engaged the army of Britons but before that a diversionary attack was to take place at the rear of the enemy lines. If that attack proved successful it would mean that the Britons would be virtually surrounded and cut off, unable to escape.
As far off cries of pain sounded from somewhere over on the other side of the river, he knew the assault had begun. Cohorts of Batavian cavalry had already set foot on the far side of the river a few hours before still under the cover of night. Some were to use the footbridge found by Varro and had made the way slowly to the other side and had gone to ground at the rear of the enemy, others had literally swam across the river with full kit three miles to the west.
The plan had been to attack and trap the Britons in the first instance by either killing, or disabling their horses at the rear and so knocking out their ability to use their chariots. The shrieks of pain from man and horse accounted for the guttural noises as the attack was pressed home but the incensed Catuvellauni were fighting like demons as they quickly realised that the Romans had already crossed the river and were now attacking from the rear.
The Batavians had quickly come to the conclusion that it was impossible to put all the horses out of action as they thrashed about kicking out at them and running wildly panicking as they saw what was happening to those around them. Soldiers tried in vain to hamstring as many of the animals as they could but were quickly attacked as they went about their grisly business.
The defending enemy counter attacked with a fury and a frenzy that even they, the veterans found hard to comprehend, as the first of the horses were wounded screaming out in agony, the Britons launched an assault. Running at the Romans the Catuvellauni threw themselves at the men killing and wounding their animals. The woad covered warriors attacked them like madmen swarming all around them in moments hurling spears and firing arrows into their ranks.
Individual fights broke out everywhere as the Romans not already engaged, attempted to hold off the attacking barbarians whilst others concentrated on the animals. The men of the Second Augusta started to fall in numbers as they were hacked and stabbed to death. Horses bolted, running wildly in the ensuing mayhem that descended all around and Roman and Briton alike were stampeded and knocked to the ground.
As Varro and his horse entered the water he exchanged nervous glances with those around him. The noise and cries from men and animals coming from the other side were chilling and almost unbearable. Their own mounts were already skittish, spooked by the ungodly sounds of battle. One trooper was thrown from his horse further down the line as his animal bucked, hurling him into the cold water.
Varro gasped as the water rose up his legs as man and horse got deeper into the river, he could now see the other side on the opposite shore through the mist. Whispering quietly to Staro he leaned forward and rubbed his neck trying to calm his mount as he strained to see more detail on the other side. He still couldn’t see any of the enemy, just their roughly made tents and numerous campfires. The Centurion in charge of the cohort ordered them to advance further, they urged their animals forward wading deeper, moving faster through the deep cold water.