Valens carefully slid a strand of blue silk from his corselet. He saw the fierce eyes of the three bodyguards watching his every move. It was the agreed signal between them. The three men were to slay Caesar the instant the blue cloth left his hand.
The cloth fluttered in the wind, and his fingers were about to release it, when another rider arrived, bringing his straining mount to a stop within feet of Caesar.
"General!" The young officer said in a panic. "I come from General Balbus!" The officer struggled to turn his jumping mount to face the proconsul.
"Well?" Caesar said, irritated. "Don't just sit there gasping! Speak, man!"
"The right has collapsed, sir! The Seventh and the Twelfth have been flanked! The enemy has crossed the river and is pushing toward the road!
Upon hearing this, and seeing the stunned expressions on Caesar's and Labienus's faces, Valens instantly put the blue cloth away, and shook his head ever so slightly at the waiting bodyguards. There was hope yet that this victory might turn to disaster, and the moment it did, the moment he was sure Caesar's reputation was sufficiently dishonored, then he would strike, and all of Gaul, and eventually all of Rome, would be his.
XXVI
On the other side of the battlefield, opposite the Roman right, Boduognatus felt ready to burst with pride, as he watched his fifty thousand Nervii spears close in on the two legions atop the slope on the right of the Roman lines. For some reason, the legions had been ill-prepared for his attack, and there were several hundred still chopping down trees and working on the camp when Boduognatus's warriors overtook them. This was partly due to some god-sent negligence of the Romans, but his flanking maneuver deserved much of the credit. The two Roman legions, numbering roughly eight thousand men, had stretched their line across the top of the slope, anchoring their right on the thick hedges and trees lining a bog to the east. This had given them a false sense of security that their flank was unassailable. They had not counted on the grit of the Nervii, who traversed these swamps at will, and who knew of every dry path and cutaway through the foliage. Outnumbering the Romans in front of him nearly five to one, Boduognatus had sent one fifth of his force through the swamp, to come upon the Romans from their right flank and to surround them – and the plan had worked perfectly.
From atop his horse, he had watched as his line of spears advanced up the slope against the Roman front. The Romans threw their javelins, as he had expected, and the first ranks of spearmen had suffered heavily, but his nobles had spurred them on, and soon the lines were joined. Then, came the payoff. When the Romans were fully engaged to their front and committed to fending off the sheer numbers that threatened to overwhelm them, he ordered the horn to sound, and the trap was sprung. Ten thousand of his painted, shrieking warriors burst from the foliage and drove into the unprotected Roman right and amongst the shieldless legionaries constructing the camp. Boduognatus watched, over the top of the melee, and saw his spearmen skewer one defenseless Roman after another, running down each one individually and placing their spears into Roman backs. It was a glorious sight, and the panic it caused among the front line legionaries was even more glorious. As a pig's bladder deflates after it has been kicked too hard, the Roman defense began to falter. With Nervii spearmen to their front and rear, the common soldiers fell back, leaving their cursing centurions on the line to stand alone. The impressive Romans in the cross-plumed helmets, unlike the rest of their comrades, grabbed up abandoned shields and began fighting like berserkers. Boduognatus had much respect for these gallant warriors who valued honor above life, the same creed he and the majority of his army lived by. But the centurions' devotion to honor did not save them today. Pushing off the Nervii spearman one after another, and thrusting their gladii time and again, until their hilts and forearms were painted crimson, they eventually succumbed to the numbers arrayed against them. Some fought back to back, and these were harder to kill, but those that stood alone often went down pierced by three or four Nervii spears. After one of these had fallen, Boduognatus saw one of his own Nervii nobles, in the midst of the melee, hack down with his long sword and then come up holding a centurion's severed head, still wearing the cross-plumed bronze helmet. The swordsman hurled the bloody object over the ranks at the retreating enemy, the head going one way, the helmet another. The Romans were falling apart. The slope on which the extreme right of the Roman line had stood only moments before was now covered with spearmen, and they were pushing the Romans back even further. The Romans had a second line, and that too was falling back, retreating toward the center, rather than toward the road. Boduognatus knew why, too. Though he could not see what was happening over the crest of the hill, he knew that his men had gotten around to the Roman rear, and were now proceeding to get between the legions and their only escape route.
"My Lord!" A man behind Boduognatus shouted to get his attention. The man appeared to be in a panic as he splashed his horse through the waist high water to approach the chieftain. He was obviously a messenger, a Viromandui from the looks of him. "My lord, I bring grave tidings. Commius has fallen. The Atrebates are in full retreat!"
Boduognatus was not fazed by this news. The moment he had seen the Ninth and Tenth Legions, the finest in Caesar's army, forming up on that side of the line, he knew that the Atrebates were in for a slaughter. He had known that, and he had allowed it to happen with the knowledge that their sacrifice would leave his own Nervii facing two depleted legions of mixed caliber. The other chieftains would not have understood it, but it was their best chance of succeeding. The only way they could defeat the legions was to get in their rear and create havoc in the one place where the Romans expected there to be order. Only that would throw the Romans off balance and make them run.
"That is unfortunate," he finally said to the messenger. "Commius the brave will have a place in our songs of this victory. How does your own lord fare?"
"We are hard pressed in the center, sir. The legions are advancing on our right. My lord asks if you can send men to assist us."
Boduognatus considered for a moment. The right could collapse. He was not worried about that, but he needed the center to hold, at least long enough for his own men to annihilate the two legions they were quickly surrounding. Still, he was reluctant to part with any more of his troops. They already appeared thinned out, and he was wondering just how many had deserted in the morning's indecision. But they were in the hands of the fates now.
"Tell your lord I am sending three brigades. Tell him he must keep up the attack, and, above all, he must hold!"
The thankful messenger departed, orders were given, and three thousand spears were pulled out of the rear ranks and sent to bolster the Viromandui in the center.
The carnage on the slope continued. The centurions had all been slaughtered, and now his spearmen pressed hard on the collapsing legions. They were rushing and killing, and why should it surprise him so? His warriors had fought off countless invasions by German tribes. All was going as he had hoped. The annoyance of Senator Valens's bad intelligence – or treachery – was now in the past. That blunder had been overcome, and now all that remained was to separate the Romans from the road and their baggage, and the battle would be won. A cloud of dust had risen above the thousands of jabbing and slashing swords and spears, and obstructed his view beyond the enemy lines. He desperately wished he could see the progress of his troops there, but he was sure they were pressing to envelope the Roman rear. At any moment, he expected to see the two legions before him break and melt away into a mass of confusion.