They stood there silently, patiently waiting to be told what to do; waiting for me to deliver a stream of miraculous orders that would set all to right. They had great faith.
I studied the map. The enemy were south of Moguntiacum and the road to Divodurum and Treverorum was open to them. It was not a good road. It would be bad for waggons, for old men and young children; but it would serve for war bands on horses, and they had horses, I knew; for they had used them against us. They were to the north of our position as well, and though the river bank was thickly wooded and it would take time, yet they would get through and could cut the road to Bingium behind us. They might already have done so. There had been no news from Didius on the east bank at all, and no news from Goar for five days; yet his men were experienced at slipping through the enemy lines.
The tent door was thrust open and one of Quintus’ troopers stood to attention before me. “The centuries you stationed along the Bingium road are being attacked, sir. The Marcomanni crossed the river last night.”
“How many?”
“About five thousand, sir.”
I blinked. “Is there any news from Goar and his Alans? What about the cavalry I sent across the river?”
“I don’t know anything about the Alans, sir, but the last news we had of the cavalry under the tribune, Didius, was that they were holding their ground.”
“When was that?”
“Two days ago, sir.”
“When you left, was there any movement on the road to the north-west?”
“No, sir, but the last patrol sent out came in three hours ago.”
“And you left, when?”
“An hour ago, sir. I would have been here sooner, but my horse went lame on the ice.”
Quintus raised his head. “You had better do something about him then.”
“Yes, sir.” He saluted and went out.
I turned back to the map. Goar had been unable to hold them. I was not surprised. We had barely been able to hold them ourselves. Probably, by this time, the cavalry units on the far bank had been annihilated as those centuries would be, too, if I didn’t send them help. The others stood quite still, with expressionless faces, waiting for me to speak. I stared up at them and I tried to smile. They were waiting patiently for me to produce a miracle, and I could not do so. If I pulled back half the legion to control the road I might still hold them here, for a while, but I should have extended my lines too far and they would be bound to break through in the end. They had so many more men, and they could build up an attack at any point they chose. The answer lay in one simple statement: we had failed to contain them.
I knew then that we were beaten. Now, I never would visit Rome; I never would see the theatre of Pompey, the great statue of Trajan and the arch of Constantine upon which my father had scratched his name when a small boy. I never would see that city which I had loved all my life. Perhaps, like all my hopes, it too was only a dream.
I said, “Order Fabianus to abandon Moguntiacum as arranged, but tell him to make contact with Borbetomagus first and let them know. When the message has been passed, the garrisons of the signal towers are to fall back on their nearest point of safety. Prepare to strike camp here and be ready to move upon my orders. Quintus, send an ala now to help those two wretched centuries. When we march, the waggons are to be in the middle with all the stores and wounded. We shall withdraw on Bingium and hold the line of the Nava there. Inform Bingium of this and tell Confluentes, Salisio and Boudobrigo to withdraw on the thirtieth milestone. Order the garrison at Treverorum to meet them there and await further instructions; and tell Flavius, too, to warn the Bishop and the Council.”
“It will cause a panic in the city,” said Quintus.
“Of course. This is a retreat, not a strategic withdrawal. Now don’t worry.” I tried to force a smile and look cheerful. “Everything will still be all right if we keep our heads. You and I, Quintus, have fought on the defensive before.”
I motioned Aquila to remain as the others went out. Quintus gave me a long look as he departed. I knew what he was thinking.
“When we pull out I shall leave a small force to hold the palisades here; men with horses. I don’t want the enemy to know we have withdrawn until the last possible moment. Do you understand?”
He nodded. He said, “They’ll guess, from the lack of numbers.”
“Not if we use our heads. There is an old trick, used once by Spartacus, that might help.”
At first he looked shocked and tried to protest. I said, “Aquila, I am not a christian. Yet these things should not matter to you, though they are of great importance to those of my faith. Do you not believe that the soul is more important than the body?”
He bit his lip hard and then saluted me. “I will see that your orders are carried out,” he said carefully.
A few minutes later Quintus came back. “Maximus, I’m worried about water, especially for the horses. If the ice is as thick on the Nava as it is here—”
“We can’t carry it with us—very little anyway.” I rubbed my eyes. “Use your judgement, Quintus. Do whatever seems best.”
He nodded. “Of course. But I thought you had better know.”
I said, “Yes. Cavalry are so mobile that everyone forgets their damned horses need ten gallons of water a day on full work as well as thirty pounds of food.”
“What about the aqueduct?”
“Fabianus has instructions to poison the water tanks in the town. Get it broken, not in one place only, but in as many as possible.”
He said, “I dreamed of Rando’s daughter last night. Funny, wasn’t it? And when I woke I kept on thinking of those children across the river. I would like to have had children of my own—once. But not now.”
I said harshly, “Gallus is dead.”
“He was a soldier; that’s different.”
“I shall leave them nothing but the bare earth. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
The signal beacons shone red, and the black smoke drifted upwards, like feathers blown on the wind. A thin column of smoke answered from Moguntiacum, and I waited with my staff on the right hand flank of our position. In front of me were the stakes and the ditches, the bodies sprawled out under a thin sheet of snow, while the ravens circled overhead and cawed pitilessly. Below us the tribes were forming up for another attack on the town. They crouched behind the hummocked snow, behind burnt-out carts and hastily made fences, and behind the carefully piled bodies of their own dead. To my rear the legion began to pull out; waggons were harnessed and the wounded and the stores packed inside them; the carroballistae were hitched to the mule teams, and the men dismantled their tents and fell in by sections. Two squadrons of cavalry alone remained, spread out in a thin line along the length of the palisade, and between them, propped against the timber, staring out with blind eyes through the firing slits, their helmets on their heads and javelins in their nerveless hands, stood the frozen bodies of our dead, keeping their last watch upon the enemy below.
A cohort commander came running towards me, his long sword flapping at his side. “Everything is ready, sir. General Veronius has gone on ahead. We await your orders.”
“Tell the head of the column to march. When they contact our advance-guard they will take their orders from the general. I will join you with the rear-guard as soon as I can. I am only waiting for the tribune, Fabianus.”
He saluted and went back to his men. In a little while I heard the rumble of waggon wheels and the steady tramping of the cohorts as they marched out of earshot.
I waited. The water dripped through the hour-glass in my orderly’s hand until it was all gone. Then he turned it over and it started again…. I must have dozed for a while for I found myself yawning and shivering with cold. I turned to speak to him, and then I saw fire, great tongues of flame leaping up from the camp, both from the sides and the centre. Fireballs hurtled outwards into the surrounding town and the huddled rows of wooden shacks caught fire, one by one, as columns of black smoke, thick and oily, spread outwards and hid the flames from our sight. The shrieks and yells of the barbarians came to us, even at that distance, and then out of the smoke I saw what appeared to be a gigantic tortoise, ponderously breaking a way through the surging mass of men outside the gates. The tortoise seemed to flicker with bright pin points of light, and I knew that it was Fabianus and his men, using the testudo formation, and that the lights came from the sun’s reflection on the metal strips upon their shields. At the same time the old camp to our right went up in flames with a great whoof of sound, and there was a sudden wind upon our faces as we felt the blast of the explosion. The tortoise had charged clear, and then it disintegrated, as though at command, and the men who composed it took to their heels and ran towards us across the wet snow. Men were pouring out of the old camp too; legionaries, auxiliaries and seamen; their retreat covered by a handful of horsemen. I sent a troop of horse down the slope to cover the escape of Fabianus and his men, and all the while Moguntiacum blazed with fire until the fort and the town were consumed, and the barbarians were left with nothing but a handful of acres of charred wood and blackened stone as the prize of their conquest.