'They understand well enough, sir.'
'Tell them again, anyway.'
'Yes, sir.' Parmenion saluted and then crept slowly down the side of the gully, taking care not to disturb too much of the sand and dust that could give them away just as easily as a reflection.
Cato watched him trot along the bed of the gully towards the silent ranks of men squatting a hundred paces away. Cato knew that they would be tired. This was their second night without sleep, and they had marched an entire day under frequent barrages of arrows. If all went well, however, they would soon have a chance to wreak their revenge on the enemy, and Cato knew that at that moment they would discover a fearsome reserve of strength in themselves that would carry them through the fight. He had often seen it before, even in himself, and it always surprised him just how much a man could endure when the need arose. As it did now.
The men of the rearguard must have seen the enemy as well, through the dust haze in their wake, and began to pick up their pace. Cato frowned. They had strict orders not to speed up. But then again, he realised, it was only human nature to step out that little bit faster when enemies like the Parthians were breathing down your neck. Besides, it would look natural enough to the enemy, and enhance the deception.
With a sudden increase in their own pace, the nearest groups of Parthians urged their mounts forward and closed in on the rearguard, shooting arrows into the air that looked like tiny splinters from this distance, although the distant figures of their victims tumbling to the sand were all too real. Cato turned his attention to the front of the Roman column. As yet it was still heading west and Cato had a moment's anxiety as it occurred to him that Longinus might change his mind once again, abandon the plan and make directly for Palmyra leaving Cato, Macro and the others to their fate. Then, a moment later, Cato breathed with relief as he saw the column halt and begin to deploy across the line of march. Unlike the day before their flanks would be covered by the broken ground on either side and the Parthians would only be able to attack them from the front. The rearguard would take the brunt of the enemy's early attacks, and they would endure heavy casualties. Cato hardened his heart to their plight. They would be buying their comrades time to set the trap and if it worked they would not have suffered in vain.
As soon as the line was complete the remaining Roman units on the track stepped out and hurried through the gap left for them. Dense masses of horsemen harried the flanks and rear of the end of the column, being drawn steadily further and further into the strip of open ground between the gullies and rocks on either side. At last, the camel train carrying the spare arrows and Artaxes' rebel column marched past Cato's position and he turned towards Parmenion and swept his hand round in a low horizontal swoop towards the enemy, the signal they had agreed earlier.
Parmenion turned to the first century of the Second Illyrian and ordered them up on to their feet. The auxiliaries were keyed up for action and snatched up spears, the light javelins they had been issued for the coming fight, and shields, then stood ready to move. Further down the line were the men carrying the baskets loaded with four-pronged iron spikes drawn from the army's stoves. Speed was vital, since Cato had realised that they were bound to kick up enough dust for the enemy to spot the danger even before they emerged from the gullies on either side.
He carefully clambered down to the floor of the gully, put on his helmet and tied the straps securely as Parmenion led the cohort forward. Cato snatched up his shield and fell in alongside the standard as the auxiliaries reached him.
'Second Illyrian! At the double… advance!'
They trotted along the floor of the gully, following its course towards the open ground, nearly a mile away, far enough for the enemy to have missed their presence as they pursued Longinus. Somewhere on the other side of the open ground Macro would be leading his force forward, converging with Cato's. If speed was one vital component of the plan, then timing was the other, and Cato trusted that his friend would have started his advance at roughly the same moment.
Cato ran on, forcing his tired legs forward as his heart pounded and his breathing came in ragged gasps. He tried to keep to an even pace which he knew he could maintain for long enough to get the cohort in position.The rumbling crunch of the auxiliaries' boots sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space. But at least the rising sun's rays had not yet appeared over the lip of the gully to add glare and heat to their discomfort.
The gully began to slope up gently and the sides began to fall away as they reached the open ground. Cato glanced to his left. The rear of the rebel column was just visible through a dust haze half a mile away. Beyond that, the Parthian horse was packed into a flat space between the two expanses of broken ground. They stood their ground, releasing a torrent of arrows on Longinus' battle line: damage the front rank of legionaries would have to soak up until Cato and Macro were in position. Then Longinus would give the order to advance and the Parthians would turn their mounts to retire to a safe distance to resume shooting their bows. Then they would see the new danger and realise the trap they had been lured into. Cato smiled as he anticipated their surprise. It would not endure, of course. They would see the thin line and know that they could charge through it without too much difficulty. Except that they would not reckon with one other aspect of Cato's plan.
'There's Balthus!' Parmenion called out and Cato turned to look ahead.The small band of horse-archers had emerged from a gully and were galloping towards Cato, ready to take up position behind the infantry line. Behind them came Macro, distinguishable by his transverse scarlet crest. The column of legionaries with their curved oblong shields came after him, spilling out on to the open ground. So intent were the enemy on destroying the army in front of them that they did not react until the two arms of the trap had linked up to their rear.Then Cato saw faces in the rebel column turn to look back, then wave their arms to attract the attention of their comrades.
'Not much time before they hit us,' Cato gasped to Parmenion. 'Form the line.'
Parmenion nodded, drew a deep breath and bellowed, 'Halt!… Left face!'
The Second Illyrian stood in a long line, two deep, with a pace between files. The men's chests heaved with the exertion of their run to get into position. The other auxiliary cohorts formed up on their left, covering the ground back to the gully. To Cato's right he heard Macro shouting orders for his men to complete the line. Cato felt a moment's elation that they had managed to close the trap without the enemy realising. There was one final detail.
'Caltrops!' Cato called down the line and the other officers relayed the order.
The men carrying the baskets moved through the line, advanced thirty paces and quickly began to scatter a belt of caltrops across the front of the formation. The iron spikes had been designed so that they could be thrown to the ground and always land resting on three of the spikes while the fourth stood proud, ready to impale the foot, or hoof, of any unwary enemy charging over them.
'Well, didn't take them long to wise up.' Parmenion pointed and Cato saw that the rearmost Parthian horse-archers had wheeled round and were moving towards them at an easy gallop. He cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, 'Get busy with those caltrops, before those bastards are on us!'
The men with the baskets glanced up quickly and then hurried along, casting out the contents like farmers sowing seeds. As soon as they had emptied their baskets they dropped them and ran back towards the Roman line and snatched up their weapons.
'Slingers!' Cato shouted. 'Prepare!'
Those who had been issued with slings lowered their spears and shields and stepped ahead of the line as they took the leather cords and pouches from round their shoulders and reached into their haversacks for a lead shot to fit to the weapon.