The other thought that followed was less pleasant. For some reason his mind turned to Leonidas and his Spartans, holding the pass at Thermopyle. They had died there, seeking to hold the might of the Persian Army at bay. Leonidas could probably have got away, melting into the mountains to make his escape, but he declined to withdraw, and Aulus knew that was now the only course open to him and the men he commanded. He wondered if he had the courage to take it for this would be no paced withdrawal. Aulus Macedonicus would be forced to run away like a hunted fox, but there was no time for speculation.
First things first; once he had beaten off this assault he could look at the possibilities with more clarity. He leapt forward to the palisade, struck out again and again at his enemies, using the noise of battle to cover the shouts he issued to Mars and Jupiter, praying to them to send help. Combat, and the need to solve a constant stream of pressing problems, had driven all thoughts of that sand-drawn eagle from his mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The image of that eagle drawn in the sand returned to Aulus soon enough, though not to haunt him. The battle was over with few casualties and the enemy, judging by the bodies at the bottom of the wooden wall, had suffered badly. Aulus was surprised, himself, at the feeling of inner peace; he felt like a traveller who had come to a safe haven, after a difficult, dangerous journey. His fate was in the hands of the gods now and that one fact seemed to release him from all his cares and there was no time, before he called his men together, in which to review his life, to examine his soul. He would meet his destiny without that luxury, simply because there was too much to do.
‘They’ll come again during darkness, if only to keep us awake.’
Aulus paused because he disliked the words forming in his mind and was reluctant to use them, never having been comfortable with character assassination, especially with a member of his own class. Not that his opinion of their titular commander was a secret and these men had served under Vegetius for years, so any implied criticism of the governor would barely affect the deep contempt in which his soldiers already held the man.
‘I don’t think we can anticipate any help. For reasons I don’t yet know, Vegetius Flaminus has not sent the troops I requested.’ There was a grumbling in the ranks at that. He saw Cholon making his way amongst the men, doling out the remaining food. That alone would tell them part of what he intended, but not all. ‘If we stay here we will die, and to no purpose, but to get away, in one piece, will be damned hard unless we can inflict some kind of check on the enemy. We have to achieve two things. The first is to make them think we’re more numerous than we actually are and the second is to give them such a bloody nose, during one of their attacks, that they’ll draw off until daylight.’
The men listened eagerly as Aulus explained his plan. They knew it was desperate, just as he did himself, yet they all accepted the fiction that success would save them. No one articulated the truth that they would not all get away; there would be casualties and even if they were alive they would have to be left behind, but the thought was present and that sent a shiver through the ranks. Those who had not seen the atrocities inflicted on Trebonius and his men had certainly heard about them.
‘Once we’re done, successful or not, those still fit and garbed are to immediately dump their armour. Everyone to take food, water and a single weapon, then head north. Stay together on the road until daylight. As soon as you can see enough to obscure your trail, split up into smaller parties and head inland. Make your way back to the legions as best you can.’
Aulus gave the orders that would split the men into two equal groups, then called on Cholon. Taking him by the arm, he hauled his servant out of earshot.
‘I want you out of here.’ He could see his servant start to protest in the glare from the flickering fire. ‘You’re no soldier, Cholon. Therefore, you are useless in a fight.’
‘I am still your body slave,’ replied the Greek.
‘Do you realise that I cannot leave here?’
‘I suspected as much, master.’
‘Yet you still want to stay?’
‘When they tell stories of the death of Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus, perhaps they will mention that his faithful Greek body slave…’
Aulus cut in. ‘You will be freed in my will.’
Cholon swallowed hard, paused for a moment, then took up exactly where he left off. ‘…his faithful Greek body slave stayed true to his master. Perhaps, in legend, I will become a hero too.’
‘Are you so sure that I will become a hero?’
There was a slight catch in Cholon’s voice as he replied. ‘You are now, and you always have been to me.’
‘We’re not so very different, we Greeks and Romans,’ said Aulus softly. ‘All we crave is the good opinion of posterity.’
Cholon would have loved the right to proffer one distinction. How very different things would have been if they had both been Greek. Aulus, less the upright Roman, would, in a Hellenistic society, have allowed the affection they felt for each other some expression. He had watched this man, whom he loved, suffer, just as he himself had suffered, seeing his love ignored. But at least Aulus had been kind to him, unlike his Claudia, whose coldness after the birth of that child had wounded Aulus cruelly. If only he had turned to Cholon then, he would have found all the solace he required. The Greek slave sighed inwardly. It was not to be.
‘There is something I want you very much to do. It’s important, and you are the only person I can entrust to carry it out.’
Cholon had known Aulus too long to be fooled. Whatever task his master had thought up, it had just this very second germinated in his mind, even if he did try to make it sound as though he had been thinking it all along.
‘Some of these men will die, either here, or before they get back to Salonae. I feel responsible for that. I want you to copy the regimental roll and note the names of all those who don’t return.’
His servant cut in. ‘That assumes I shall survive.’
A hard note crept into Aulus’s voice but Cholon was not fooled by that either. His master would have to order him to leave and he was cranking himself up to it.
‘You might not. You might fall off your horse. If you do, get up and walk. I want you to seek out the dependants of those who fall and make sure that they are provided for. Now be so good as to fetch something to write with, so that I can give you a codicil to add to my will.’
Clodius looked up at the stars. No singing now, but he was talking to his gods nevertheless. Would he survive the night? He would be lucky to make it through the initial attack. All very well for the general to say that slopes too steep to climb were not too steep to run down, but he could break a leg if he failed to find one of the enemy to cushion his fall. A whispered command was passed along the line and Clodius pushed forward to the edge of the steep incline. The torches on the palisade cast a strong light on the area just in front of the wooden stakes, at the same time throwing the stoop itself into darkness so that the spears and helmets lining the wall were barely visible. They didn’t look like much from up here; perhaps, in the gloom, the attackers would think the wall was manned with the full Roman strength. He could not see any of the men crouched below the parapet. They were completely in shadow.
Noise travels upwards, especially in a confined space, so those attackers, coming down the gorge, gave ample notice of their approach. They would have to charge the wall but if Aulus was right it would be a half-hearted assault, designed to keep the defenders on their toes rather than to inflict any real damage. It was up to those left on the wall, if they did attack, to tempt them to a proper fight so that once committed, the men on the hills could drop behind them and hopefully kill the entire force. Clodius grasped his spear as the attackers crept forward; when they reached the circle of light they emitted a fearsome yell and rushed forward. They only made half the distance, threw a few untipped spears wildly, before immediately running back out of range. So far so good, the general had been right, they were trying to draw fire, keep the defenders awake and deplete the Roman stock of javelins. When nothing happened at all, confusion set in and they ran forward again, with still no response from those on the wall.