‘It don’t have to be him, it could be either Pallas or Callistus,’ Magnus suggested.
‘Have him cut down and buried,’ Paetus ordered Ansigar as he remounted.
Ansigar barked a couple of orders in his harsh tongue and a group of frightened-looking auxiliaries came forward and began their unpleasant task, muttering sullenly amongst themselves.
‘The men won’t stand for much more of this, Paetus,’ Vespasian said, swinging himself up onto his horse next to the prefect. ‘How much longer are we going to be in the Chatti’s lands?’
‘Another day according to the guides. We need to cross the Adrana River and then it’s comparatively flat and mostly cultivated terrain to the Amisia in the Cherusci’s lands. So hopefully we’ll be able to pick up a bit of speed.’
‘And be more exposed.’
Paetus shrugged. ‘So will whoever’s tracking us.’
Vespasian thought of how their tormentors had managed to stay so elusive in the past days. ‘I very much doubt it, Paetus.’
As the sun reached its zenith they finally broke out of the forest onto undulating pasture; there were a few mean dwellings scattered around in the middle distance, with pasture fields surrounding them in which cows grazed. After the endless trees of the forest it seemed like a wonderfully spacious, sunlit paradise where one could breathe easily and not have to be constantly peering into the shadows looking for an unseen enemy.
‘The Adrana is less than a quarter of an hour’s ride north of here, prefect,’ one of the guides informed Paetus, pointing to a long hill a mile ahead of them. ‘We should be able to see it from the top of that. However, we can’t ford this river; we’ll have to swim across.’
‘I’m well overdue a bath,’ Paetus replied cheerily. ‘Ansigar, send a four-man patrol ahead of us to find out whether our mysterious friends are holding the river against us.’
As the patrol galloped away, Paetus led the rest of the column off at a canter. Vespasian kicked his horse forward, feeling invigorated by the space; his fear of being too exposed to unfriendly eyes was for the moment overtaken by the relief at finally being able to travel at some speed. ‘I’m looking forward to washing the smell of the forest off my skin.’
Magnus did not look so sure. ‘Nothing good ever came out of swimming a river, especially wearing these.’ He rubbed his chain mail tunic. ‘They ain’t designed for buoyancy.’
‘Take it off and strap it to your horse, it’ll be able to support it.’
Magnus grunted and turned to Ziri who was riding next to him. ‘How’s your swimming, Ziri?’
‘I don’t know, master, I’ve never tried.’
‘Fucking great! This is not going to be the time to learn.’
The column pounded over the grassland, climbing steadily until they reached the top of the hill. Paetus reined in his horse; Vespasian slowed next to him and shaded his eyes against the glare. Below them, a couple of miles away, a river meandered through verdant countryside irregularly divided up into fields. Its banks were mainly lined with a thick layer of trees but here and there they were open, revealing a slow-running, sedimenttainted body of water. The four-man patrol was already a third of the way to it. Beyond it were fields and copses for as far as the eye could see; a fat land brimming with agriculture.
‘That doesn’t look to be more than thirty to forty paces across,’ Paetus said confidently. ‘That won’t delay us for too long.’ He raised his arm in the air and turned in the saddle to order his men on; his face fell. ‘Shit!’
Vespasian spun round to see a dark shadow emerging from the forest; horsemen, scores of them, at least a hundred, he estimated.
‘This is not going to be fun,’ Paetus muttered almost to himself before throwing his arm forward and urging his horse as fast as possible into a gallop. The column followed immediately.
One mile behind them so did the Chatti.
Vespasian leant forward in the saddle pushing his horse on downhill, his cloak flapping noisily behind him as all around him the Batavians kicked their mounts into greater speed, yelling over the thunder of hoofbeats. Very quickly they covered half the distance, gaining on the patrol ahead; Vespasian looked over his shoulder to see the first of the Chatti breasting the hill and, with a quick mental calculation, he accepted the inevitable and shouted at Paetus: ‘They’ll pick us off whilst we’re in the river. We need to turn and face them; we must outnumber them by at least fifty.’
‘My lads are fast swimmers, sir,’ Paetus yelled back over the deep rumble of the gallop. ‘We’ll lose fewer in the river than we would in a fight; it’s our best chance to make it home again.’
Vespasian could see the logic: the more men they lost now the more vulnerable they would be when and if they got to the Teutoburg Forest. He looked up towards the river, it was just over half a mile away; the patrol was just arriving. He glanced back; the Chatti were not gaining on them, perhaps there was still a chance. As he steeled himself with this faint new hope, one of the patrol’s horses stumbled, falling to the ground and trapping its rider beneath it. Within an instant two more riders were punched from their saddles; the fourth turned his horse and began to bolt back up the hill. Behind him, on the far bank, there was movement; within moments the river was lined with a hundred and more warriors.
They were trapped.
‘Halt!’ Paetus screamed, raising an arm into the air, ‘And about face.’ Most of the Batavians had seen the new threat to the north of the river and did not need to be told twice; with prodigious skill they pulled up their frothing, wild-eyed mounts and turned, forming up two deep in their turmae. As they did, the Chatti slowed, coming to a trot, and formed an arrowheaded wedge, advancing steadily; one man was to their front with the rest of the warriors echeloned back at an angle on both sides.
Paetus took one look at the enemy formation and turned to Ansigar next to him. ‘The two outer turmae form up in column to our rear, we’ll release javelins then do a split before contact.’
The decurion nodded and barked a couple of orders that were echoed by his five other colleagues. The turmae on the extreme left and right retreated behind the central four in a precise, brisk manoeuvre and formed into columns, two abreast.
‘Batavians! Prepare to advance!’ Paetus called, his voice rising an octave on the last word.
Throughout the turmae the troopers grabbed javelins from the leather carry-cases attached to their saddles and slipped their forefingers through the thongs knotted around the centre of the shaft. Their horses stamped and snorted, heads tossing, their powerful chests expanding and contracting as they breathed deeply.
‘We’re going to try a rather tricky manoeuvre,’ Paetus informed the brothers, ‘it would be best if you and your two chaps get behind Ansigar and me and follow our lead.’
Sabinus bristled, not liking being told to fight in the rear rank, but Vespasian reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ve seen how he manoeuvres his cavalry; I think it’s probably best to do as he suggests.’
‘I ain’t ever fought mounted before,’ Magnus grumbled as they took their places behind Ansigar’s turma in the centre of the line, ‘it ain’t natural.’
‘What about in Cyrenaica, against Ziri’s people?’ Vespasian asked, adjusting the arm strap on his shield.
‘I just tagged along behind you in the charge and then got to my feet as soon as possible.’
‘Then do the same this time; you and Ziri cover mine and Sabinus’ backs.’
‘I will; and I’ll also keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t get too carried away, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian grunted but knew his friend was right: he had often endangered himself in the past by losing control and fighting in a frenzy, heedless to what was going on around him. He would not allow himself to do that today.
A quarter of a mile in front of them the Chatti leader raised his right arm in the air; the hand was missing. The Chatti halted but their leader walked his horse on until he was just fifty paces away; he paused and stroked his blond beard that bushed out from between his cheek-guards whilst he surveyed the Batavians.