Caratacus had foreseen everything. The ditches and the palisade were just a screen before the real defences laid out on the reverse slope. For hundreds of feet on either side ran a system of concealed pits with spikes at the bottom – the 'lilies' so beloved of Julius Caesar – and finally a deep trench and yet another turf rampart defended by a palisade. With no artillery fire to support them, the Praetorian units had been forced to advance into this deathtrap alone, with the Britons fighting them every step of the way.
All across the slope were the bodies of Praetorians impaled on lily spikes or crippled by concealed caltrops, whose vicious iron points went right through the soles of their boots and into their feet. There were only a few paths through the spikes and the Praetorians had been funnelled into these tight spaces where they were kept at bay by a handful of Britons while their flanks were exposed to merciless fire from small redoubts rising above the traps all around. The anival of yet more troops had made the situation progressively worse as the Praetorians were forced even further into the trap.
Claudius gazed upon the disaster in horror; Plautius was in a cold rage. Without waiting for imperial approval he shouted out his orders. 'Get a messenger to each legate. They're to withdraw their men immediately. Make for their start markers and wait for further orders. Go!'
As the staff officers fought their way back down the slope, Claudius came out of his frozen state and responded to the orders his general had just given. 'Very good, Plautius – a tactical withdrawal. Very s-s-sensible. But first, let's make good use of this d-diversion. The second can advance r-round the ridge and catch them in the flank. Give the order r-r-right now!'
Plautius stared at his Emperor, dumbfounded by the sheer idiocy of the order. 'Caesar, the Second is the last body of formed-up legionaries we have left.'
'Exactly! Now give the order.'
When Plautius didn't move, the Emperor repeated the order to Narcissus. At once the chief secretary glanced round for someone to ride to Vespasian.
'Sabinus! Over here!'
As Narcissus gave the order, there was a growing roar from the enemy and word passed down their lines that the Roman Emperor himself was within striking distance. Slingshot and arrows from the British lines began to thud down around Claudius and his staff, and the imperial bodyguard hurriedly placed themselves round their master, raising their shields to shelter him. The rest of his companions had to dismount and take shields from the dead as the volume of missiles increased. Looking out from under the rim of a British shield, Narcissus caught sight of a ripple of crimson cloaks in the mass of Britons swarming before them, and the roar in the throats of the enemy reached a fanatic pitch as Caratacus' elite warriors swept towards the Roman Emperor.
'Now we're for it!' Narcissus muttered, before he turned back to Sabinus.
'Understand this. If your brother doesn't move his men up in time, thc Emperor will be lost and the army will be slaughtered. Go!'
Sabinus stabbed his heels into his mount and the beast reared before surging back through the packed ranks of legionaries. Behind Sabinus the roar of the Britons converging on the Emperor's position drowned out the other sounds of battle.
Desperate and confused faces flashed before him as he urged his mount on, brutally clearing his way through the dense mass, heedless of the cries of those men knocked down and trampled by his mount.
At last, the crush of legionaries thinned and he spurred his horse into a gallop up the slope towards the Roman camp. Through the mist his eyes anxiously sought for the first sign of his brother's legion. Then the spectral shapes of the standards appeared directly ahead. Suddenly, the mist cleared and, with a shout, Sabinus steered his horse round beside his younger brother, and breathlessly passed on the Emperor's order.
'Are you serious?'
'Quite serious, brother. To the right of the ridge and sweep round into their flank.'
'But there's a marsh over there. Where the elephants went. Where the hell did they end up?'
'Doesn't matter,' Sabinus said breathlessly. 'Just carry out the order. We might yet win the battle.'
'Win the battle?' Vespasian looked up across the thinning mist to where the other legions were crowding back down the slope. 'We'll be lucky if we aren't massacred.'
'Just carry out the order, Legate!' Sabinus said harshly.
Vespasian glanced at his brother, and then looked again at the battlefield before he made the decision all his instincts and military judgement told him to make.
'No.'
'No?' Sabinus repeated, eyes wide. 'What d'you mean, no?'
'The Second is staying here. We're the reserve,' explained Vespasian. 'If Claudius throws us away in some hare-brained attack then there's nothing left to meet any surprise the Britons throw at us. Not while the other legions are in that mess.' He nodded across the vale. 'We stay here.'
'Brother, I beg you. Do as you are ordered!'
'No!'
'The Britons have already sprung their surprise on us,' Sabinus argued desperately. 'And now we – you – can surprise them.'
'No.'
'Vespasian.' Sabinus leaned forward and spoke with quiet intensity. 'Do it! If you stand here you'll be accused of cowardice. Think of our family name. Do you want the Flavians to be remembered as cowards for the rest of time? Do you?'
Vespasian returned his older brother's stare with equal intensity. 'This is not about posterity. This is about doing the right thing. By the book. While the army is disorganised, we must have a standing reserve. Only a fool would disagree. '
'Quiet, brother!' Sabinus glanced round nervously in case Vespasian's intemperate words had been overheard. Vitellius stood to one side and casually raised a hand in greeting.
'Vespasian-'
But the legate was no longer listening. He was staring at the forest, more clearly visible in the thinning mist. Unless his eyes were playing him false, there was movement down there. From under the boughs of the trees at the edge of the forest, briar thickets were slowly emerging in dozens of places. What dark magic was this? Could those devils the Druids conjure up the very forces of nature to aid them in their fight against Rome?
Then the briars were thrown to one side and the true genius of Caratacus' plan became clear. From deep within the forest charged a column of chariots. The thunder of hooves and rumble of wheels was audible even up by the Roman army's camp. The heavy British chariots burst out into the open and charged down upon the artillery positions on the left flank.
The legionaries manning the bolt-throwers had no time to react to the threat and were cut down where they stood, trampled and ridden over by the chariots, or speared by the warriors riding on the chariot beds. In the wake of the chariots swarmed thousands of lightly armed men carrying pikes. They streamed across the rear of the attacking force like grey ghosts in the thinning mist. They paid no attention to the still cohorts of the Second Legion as they rushed to close the trap on Claudius and the main body of his army. More Britons appeared all along the edge of the forest and threw themselves upon the legions' tangled flank. The ferocity of the attack compounded the effect of the surprise and the Britons carved a deep swathe through the disorganised Roman lines. Panic welled up and swept ahead of the British onslaught and some legionaries backed away, while others simply turned and ran to the right of the line.
'Dear gods,' said Sabinus. 'They're trying to drive us into the marsh.'
'And they'll do it,' said Vespasian grimly, 'unless we intervene.'
'Us?' Sabinus looked horrified. 'What can we do? We should guard the camp, so the survivors have somewhere to run.'
'Survivors? There won't be any survivors. They'll run all right, straight into the marsh and drown, or be stuck in the mire and cut to pieces,' Vespasian reached over and gripped his brother's arm. 'Sabinus. it's down to us. There's no one else. Do you understand me?'