By late afternoon, Vespasian could see his legionaries were wearing down, despite the commitment of reserve cohorts and continuous passages-of-lines. The hour was growing late, and the Catuvellauni alliance had simply failed to break. There was nothing for it, and he was going to have to halt his legion soon and establish a defensive perimeter for the night. The barbarians were slowly withdrawing, though it was anything but a rout. Every time the Romans tried to press the advantage, they held their ground and the battle continued in a bloody grind with neither side giving way. As evening fell, Vespasian gave the order to halt with his men entrenching and preparing defenses. There were also details sent back to bring over what food and supplies they could manage while also evacuating the wounded. The lack of harassment from the barbarians told the legate they were, at least, as worn out as his men.
“Sir, there are several riders approaching from the east,” a sentry reported as the soldiers continued to establish their camp for the evening.
Vespasian walked over to the east entrance to his camp and saw that it was his own brother, along with a handful of escorts.
“Glad to see you’re still with us,” Sabinus said as soon as he’d dismounted and embraced Vespasian. “I decided to come see you personally, rather than dispatching a messenger.”
“We had a hard go of it today,” he replied, “but we’re still here. How goes it on the right?”
“Stoppello’s ships provided excellent support for my men,” Sabinus replied. “The barbarians are anything but organized. From what we could see, a large number of them pissed off before the fighting even began.”
“Hard to believe they came all this way just to run away before striking a single blow,” Vespasian remarked.
“The firestorm wrought by Stoppello’s ships undoubtedly played a role in that,” Sabinus explained. “But even more so, it tells me that this alliance between the peoples of this isle is anything but sound. They are brave, but ill-disciplined. It would not surprise me if men refused to fight over something as petty as determining which one of their war chiefs was in command. In all honesty, though, we Romans are not above such squabbles ourselves.”
“Agreed,” Vespasian conceded. “However, I take it you were not able to decide the issue today either?”
“Not entirely,” Sabinus replied. “Once we got beyond the range of Stoppello’s artillery, they became more brazen in their attacks. Like you, we wound up in a slog that lasted most of the afternoon. Our casualties are comparatively lighter than theirs, and yet they would not give way. Believe me, brother, I will never doubt the courage and tenacity of the Britannic warrior! What of Artorius and the Twentieth Legion on the left?”
The two legates sat down on camp stools around a small fire. As all tents and most of the baggage had been left on the other side of the river, they would be sleeping under the stars this night. Vespasian just hoped that it did not rain!
“The last word I received came from a cavalry centurion whose men had spotted enemy reinforcements coming from the west. He informed Master Centurion Artorius, who took the Twentieth Legion to face them. I had hoped to use them to press the flank of our foes here, but if he’s battling a sizeable enemy force and keeping them from supporting Togodumnus, then so much the better.”
“We need to reestablish lines of communication with them as soon as possible,” Sabinus noted. “Depending on their disposition, Plautius wants them to advance north and prevent as many of the barbarians from escaping as possible. Meantime, the Fourteenth Legion has orders to relieve you.”
“Relieve?” Vespasian asked, almost indignantly.
“Relax, brother, you will still have a role in deciding the outcome of this battle. Geta’s men have been kept in reserve this whole time and have been kept fresh in order to smash the enemy center. The force in front of you is still where they number the strongest. The Fourteenth Legion will advance past your position and launch its assault at dawn. With any luck, Togodumnus will think he’s still facing you and will not realize he’s battling against replacement troops. Your men will form up in reserve behind him, ready to move as needed.”
“I understand,” Vespasian replied.
It was a sound plan, one that Plautius was correct to implement. After all, they had not expected the barbarians to be able to last the entire day against them, as lengthy force-on-force battles were extremely rare. The commander-in-chief had had the foresight not to commit all of his forces at once. Auxiliaries were scattered amongst the newly-won territories, providing security and establishing more permanent camps, while Cursor’s cavalry regiments were dispersed between the three legions, preventing any errant enemy forces from flanking them.
While soldiers of the Twentieth Legion gathered up the dead and wounded and secured the supply trains, all cohort commanders and centurions primus ordo were gathered in a large semicircle with Artorius standing in front of them. He had scrawled out a basic diagram of each cohort’s position during the battle and was now gathering all pertinent information to send up in his report to Plautius.
“It was the Fourth and Tenth Cohorts that won this for us so decisively,” Praxus observed, taking his vine stick and drawing out where the supply trains had been posted, along with the two cohorts of legionaries who had acted as their escorts. “The barbarians essentially forgot about them when they saw us coming. Only those immediately engaged with them stuck around, and they were disposed of readily enough.”
“Once they were driven off, we reformed into battle lines and attacked in support of the left wing,” the pilus prior of the Fourth Cohort explained.
“Their attack allowed us to roll the barbarians up rather quickly,” added the commander of the Second Cohort, who had been anchoring the left of the main battle line.
“We were pretty stagnant on the right,” the pilus prior of the seventh cohort confessed. “In all honesty, it was an indecisive brawl for most of the day. We’d inflict the occasional casualty, but they weren’t exactly willing to commit fully, rather they simply stood back shouting curses and taunts after we hit them with our javelins. They didn’t break as a whole until they saw their friends running. After that, they collapsed completely.”
“Well done, everyone,” Artorius said. “I want you to pass on my personal commendations to your legionaries. They’ve been through a lot of shit over the past two days, and when it came time to throw down, they did not hesitate. Their discipline and bravery is in keeping with our legion’s moniker of The Valiant. I’ll need a total count on your dead and wounded, as well. Thankfully, our losses were not as crippling as they could have been.” These last words bit into him, seeing as how one of the fallen had been a dear friend, not to mention the legion’s aquilifer.
“Sir, what of the rest of the battle?” Centurion Tyranus asked.
“No idea,” Artorius confessed. “For all we know, Vespasian either smashed the main barbarian force into oblivion, or they could have been cut of an annihilated; we simply don’t know whether the larger battle has been won or lost. Seeing as how we’ve heard nothing, we need to be extra vigilant this evening. The men need rest, but they also need to keep their eyes open.”
Chapter X IX: The Alliance Shatters
Like the rest of the army, Artorius’ men had established a marching camp for the night, the only difference being they were no longer within sight of their enemy. Without having as nearly a decisive advantage in numbers, the reinforcements from Durotriges had broken and fled. Some had made their way to the northeast, towards where Artorius could only surmise the rest of the enemy army awaited them, while most of the rest had fled to the west, back towards their homeland.