I said, “We have Fredegar’s Franks to feed, as well as the signal post people we picked up on the way. How many did you bring?”
“The two centuries you left me, and four hundred others.”
“Any horses?”
“Sixty. That was all I could muster. I had to use mules for the waggons.”
“Artillery?”
“Four ballistae and six carroballistae.”
“Very well.” I nodded my dismissal.
Flavius stood his ground. “There is just one thing, sir. I saw the Bishop before I left. He told me he had written to the Praefectus at Arelate, begging for help.”
“So did I, but I had no reply.”
“But I have a letter from the Magister Equitum per Gallias.”
“Give it to me.” I read Chariobaudes’ letter carefully, while the others waited. “I would help you if I could and as I promised. But I learn that the Alemanni are across the Rhenus in strength and have captured two other cities, as well as Borbetomagus. This means that the road to Divodurum lies open before them. It must be obvious, therefore, that my first duty is to protect this city, else they would have an open pathway into the heart of Gaul. The Praefectus Praetorio has confirmed this decision. Do not think too harshly of me, therefore. I am confident that all will yet be well with you. Treverorum is a strong city to defend and these people are not good at siege warfare.” I read it through to the end and then flung it at Quintus. “So much for the help he promised us. The Praefectus can escape by boat, of course. He risks nothing; he forgets nothing, save his duty.”
Quintus said carefully, “From Chariobaudes’ point of view he is quite correct.”
“Of course. Only he doesn’t realise that the Alemanni have no intention of marching inland. He will keep his men there, and nothing will happen.”
Quintus looked at the others in turn. “You will keep silent about this message. Is that understood?” They nodded. To me he said, “There is still some good advice in the letter.” He paused. He said, “If we pull the legion back to Treverorum we could hold it against them easily. If we stay here we risk being destroyed.”
“Fetch Aquila.”
He came, shaking the snow from his shoulders as he entered.
“It is snowing again,” he said.
“Aquila, can the men march another thirty miles back to the city?”
He hesitated.
“If we march at dawn? Can they?”
He shook his head. “I do not think so,” he said slowly.
Flavius said, “There is a lot of heavy snow on the road between here and the city. I had difficulty in getting through with the waggons.”
Aquila said, “The men must have some rest, sir.”
“It is only thirty miles,” said Quintus. He paused, as an orderly entered and lit the lamp. He leaned back and stretched himself. He said, “They won’t give us long even if we do stay here.”
Fredegar said, “They are tired, as we are, and just as hungry. Yet behind these ditches we are safe until they attack us.” He gazed at me ironically.
The post commander said anxiously, “I kept the ditches cleared as you ordered, sir, though it was not easy.”
I smiled at him. “Nothing has been easy for any of us.”
Quintus said, “They must have Treverorum. If we hold it, then they cannot have it. Without food they will die.”
Aquila said, “I understand that, sir.” He glanced at me. He said, “They know you intended to fight here. They are full of confidence. This they will lose if they are asked to march again. As for myself—” He hesitated.
“Yes?”
“They are marching faster than we. In spite of our start their cavalry has already caught up.”
The door swung open and Marius burst in. He said, “One of my patrols has just come in. The main Vandal column has just reached that village in the valley.”
“Are they camping?”
“Yes, sir, but they have cavalry out in the snow, about four hundred yards from the palisade.”
I looked at Quintus. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“That settles it,” I said. “Put out double sentries; get those enemy patrols driven away and establish pickets of our own, five hundred yards from the camp. They must have fires ready so that they can signal at a moment’s notice. Now, let us get some sleep.
But there was little rest for any of us. Units had to be re-organised to allow for casualties, food distributed, and time allowed for the repair of broken equipment and damaged boots. The armourers had to get fires going; spear heads had to be fitted on to new shafts, bow cords renewed and arrows flighted. The ditches, partially filled, in spite of Agilio’s efforts, with the loose snow of the night, had to be cleared; and the artillery sited on hurriedly built platforms. The waggons were emptied of their supplies and drawn up in arranged positions on the flanks, so as to make a barricade against attack by infiltration; and the palisade had to be strengthened with timber and brushwood.
The camp was its usual square, twelve hundred yards on either side, surrounded by a timber palisade and an earthwork, built the previous year. The two corners facing the enemy, were strengthened by the addition of waggons, as well as platforms on which were mounted two carroballistae. Fifty yards in front of the gate was the signal tower, surrounded by a circle of triple ditches and a palisade. In front of this, stretching to left and right, was a four foot palisade, earthed and well dug-in, behind which the legion would fight when on the defensive. Protecting this there was the usual line of triple ditches, their bottoms spiked with sharpened branches. In addition, however, I had had dug in front of this, a wide zig-zag ditch. It was fifteen feet wide and ten feet deep, with narrow gaps at the ends nearest to our position. An enemy approaching would be forced by the closing up of this ditch, to concentrate his attack at single points where the gaps occurred. We, however, could concentrate our fire on these gaps and so destroy him as he tried to come through. In this way I hoped to reduce the effectiveness of the enemy’s vast superiority of numbers. Squadrons of cavalry and archers would protect our flanks, and I had no doubt but that we could hold our ground, so long as we had sufficient men and missiles to last out.
All morning the men worked, while Quintus and I rode carefully over the ground upon which we would fight. Facing east, from the signal tower, the ground was level for about two hundred yards. It then sloped gently to the trees in the distance. On the right of the road the ground sloped away to a great wood of firs that guarded our flank. On the left the ground dipped for, perhaps, half a mile, and then climbed a long gentle slope to the horizon. The plain was thinly covered, here and there, by clumps of bushes. A little to the right of the Bingium road there was a small copse in which I intended to put a century to lie in ambush. The snow was packed hard underneath the surface, and there appeared to be few drifts. Quintus seemed satisfied and, at length, we returned to camp.
At midday, while I was eating a bowl of hot porridge, we saw their horsemen in the distance. They came up to within a hundred yards of our furthest pickets. They circled the ground slowly but did not attack us. Presently they rode off, and in the afternoon the men who were not on duty washed themselves, and then sat outside their tents. The wind had dropped, the sun shone fitfully and the soldiers laughed as they rolled the dice and gambled away the pay that so many of them would never receive. They looked less tired after their long sleep; they smiled, made jokes, told each other bawdy stories, and some of them sang.
Just before dusk one of the sentries reported men on the Confluentes road. I climbed the tower, and I could see them; a dark, straggling column, moving slowly towards us. The Vandals could see them, too, and their horsemen spread out and rode towards them. Quintus hastily mounted three squadrons and led them out to intercept the Vandals. An hour later, with bloody cavalry skirmishes going on behind them, the column reached the safety of the palisade. It consisted of three hundred men, wounded, hungry, and exhausted; all that was left of the garrison at Confluentes and the crews of the signal posts along their line of march. Of the garrisons from Boudobrigo and Salisio there was no news, and I knew now that they would not come. They had been destroyed in the hills by the Burgundians, led by their king, Guntiarus, who had once been proud to call himself an ally of Rome.