Six regular legionary cavalry decurions had been chosen to keep the auxiliaries in line during this morning’s pursuit and reconnaissance mission. Obviously, most of the regulars, including the true cavalry prefects, were back in the dip, respectfully choking in the smoke of that centurion from the Tenth. The Auxilia had no such restraints placed on them and had been assigned this morning’s duties. It was Ingenuus’ first chance at an independent command. Six alae of cavalry, numbering five hundred men apiece, commanded each by a regular officer, temporarily filling in as a prefect.
With the way Caesar’s cavalry contingent was expanding on a weekly basis, Ingenuus was looking forward to speedy promotion, and taking every opportunity to command and to shoulder responsibility would be a helpful step in that direction.
The day was bright and clear, and the yellow globe hanging mildly over the horizon promised a warm afternoon. The smell of flowers, grass and all the Magna Mater’s bounteous gifts assailed him. Today was a good day to be alive.
He had drawn the Fourth Ala that rode along the eastern side of the valley floor, heading toward a crest where the ground fell away and beyond which would be the Helvetii. The Fifth, slightly further east, rode parallel with them along the ridge and somewhere out of sight beyond them would be the Sixth. The First, Second and Third mirrored their positions off to the west.
The auxiliary units had already had Gaulish officers assigned earlier by the high command, to aid the cavalry prefects, and Ingenuus suspected they resented young Roman junior officers being placed in such supervisory roles. On the other hand, he thought, eyeing the well-bred and well-dressed Aedui officer of whom he had taken control, the man had reacted well and had followed his orders swiftly and efficiently ever since. Perhaps these Gaulish allies weren’t the barbarous monkeys the regular officers seemed to regard them as.
He glanced over to the west, where the Second Ala rode in relatively good formation along the ridge at the other side of the valley. They seemed to be moving quite fast. Scanning around and behind him, suddenly alarmed that the cavalry may be under pursuit by enemy forces, he could see nothing untoward. The Third Ala was ahead; further ahead than anyone should be. They should be on the valley floor, keeping pace with Ingenuus’ men. In fact, the Third were far enough ahead they were at the crest and must be clearly within sight of the Helvetii. What in the name of Jupiter were they doing? Motioning the Fourth to pick up the pace, he began to race after the stray unit.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted; not what he’d expected. He’d taken command this morning because it had promised to be a nice easy reconnaissance mission. Now there were units breaking formation. The Third seemed to be determined to reach and engage the enemy on their own. They had disappeared over the crest of the hill almost a minute ago, and the closest pursuing unit, the Second, had almost reached the saddleback now.
Swallowing his fear, Ingenuus began giving orders to the auxiliaries. The unit moved into a spearhead formation, the best tactic he could think of, not knowing what he was facing.
Moments later, the Second were wheeling their horses and turning. Had the Third found the trouble they were so obviously looking for? Faced with his first critical command decision, Ingenuus dithered. What to do? Should he form up with the rest of the cavalry in the valley? But if he did and the Third had run into trouble out of sight ahead, then they would be abandoning half a thousand men to their fate. Whatever else the young cavalry commander could be accused of, including foolhardiness, he would never be accused of leaving fellow soldiers to die for the sake of his own skin.
With a sigh of resignation, he gave the order to charge. Breaking into a gallop, he heard the hooves of the entire unit keeping pace with him. He daren’t turn round for fear of losing his nerve. He had no idea what awaited them over the ridge, and charged on blindly.
The Fourth had crossed the ridge and hit the enemy square on before they were aware of what was happening. With an efficiency that surprised Ingenuus and would have made his commander proud, he had begun swinging with his sword and manoeuvring his horse automatically, his mind still trying to comprehend what had happened. Signalling his unit to rally round him, he made for a small raised mound in the valley and surveyed the battlefield.
The Third Ala had obviously launched straight into the Helvetian cavalry with some force. They were now surrounded by the enemy, and were being systematically driven back and cut down. Ingenuus could see around half of the unit making its way as best it could toward the edge, making a break for freedom and the Roman force a few miles away.
There weren’t that many of the Helvetian cavalry, but the terrain was definitely with them, and the rest of the tribe stood patiently, waiting behind them to mop up anything their cavalry couldn’t finish. Time was running short. As he glanced around, he could see that the tribe were slowly whittling down the numbers around him. The auxiliary cavalry were fighting as hard as they could, but without the discipline of the regular legionary cavalry beside them, they were far too disorganised.
As he watched, one of his unit accidentally speared another, mistaking him for the enemy in the press. There was no hope here; they had to pull out. He glanced up the slope to the crest of the saddle. The other four officers in charge of the alae had drawn them up in a line on the hill. While Ingenuus had committed himself to saving as many of the Third Ala as he could, his peers had decided to maintain distance as per Longinus’ orders and would not risk getting tangled in the melee. He was on his own, like that poor bastard who’d led the Third in. Damn his choice of duties! Today was no day to be in command of a cavalry ala. With a shout, he called his second in command, a warrior of the Aedui tribe with a good grasp of Latin, to him.
“Take the Fourth back out as fast as you can and join up with the other alae on the hill. There’s a couple of hundred survivors from the Third that got out safely. Hook up with them and get back to the army as soon as you can. Report to the legate.”
The Aedui warrior frowned.
“What will you do, sir?”
Ingenuus pushed the fear and dread deep down inside and locked it in behind a manic grin.
“I’m going to take a dozen or so men and try to get to the rest of the Third over there.”
He pointed deep into the Helvetian melee.
“With any luck it’ll distract them enough to give you time to get away and up the hill.”
The warrior nodded and called a retreat in Latin to the Fourth. The auxiliaries surged towards the rear, catching the Helvetii by surprise though still losing men as they ploughed their way toward freedom.
Signalling to a few of the troopers around him, Ingenuus pushed on deep into the throng. Eleven men followed him, madly battering the Helvetii with swords and spears, trying not for kills, but to create enough room to manoeuvre.
A minute later he and the eight surviving auxiliaries who had made it through, burst out of the mass of Helvetian cavalry, and into the open space separating them from the waiting infantry. Not far off to his left, he could see a Roman cavalry banner waving defiantly above the press of horsemen. Wheeling his mount, he began to gallop along the clear ground, his eight companions staying close.
As soon as he judged they were level with the entrapped Third, he turned and began to plough his way back into the enemy cavalry, swinging in wild figure-eights with his long cavalry blade. Five of his companions made it back in to the melee, the others being brought down with long spears or vicious Celtic swords while they turned.
Looking ahead, he could see the Third, such as it now was, only ten yards ahead of him. There were little more than a dozen of them. He could see the Roman officer, bathed in blood, swinging his sword madly with his left hand, his right clenched tightly to his side where Ingenuus could make out, even at this distance, a number of wounds in the blood-drenched tunic.