Teuta forbore to snap back at that, knowing that Illyria was an obscure country. That man Norbanus intrigued her. She could not quite name what it was, but the Roman had something that Hamilcar lacked: some essential quality that raised him above the level of ordinary men. What a pity this Norbanus comes of an upstart, soon-to-be-extinct nation instead of a great empire, she thought. And too bad his army is so small by comparison. Otherwise, I might have done better to choose him as my companion, rather than Hamilcar.
The Roman party rode back toward the camp and discussed matters as they went.
"We'd better keep an eye on that wild woman," Cato advised. "She strikes me as twice the man Hamilcar is."
"So I noticed," Norbanus agreed. "Remember the story of Queen Artemisia of Halicarnassus at the battle of Salamis? The warrior-queens can give you a nasty surprise."
"Are you going to tell us what you intend now?" Niger demanded.
"Tonight. And I want no surprises tomorrow, so everyone is to be out on that field, in battle order, in silence as before. It will mean a long, hot wait until noon, but I've given them two days of rest, so they'll be up to it."
On the next morning, at first light, Norbanus was again atop his command tower. Before him was ranged his army, the legions in neat, elongated rectangles, extended to keep Hamilcar's much-larger army from overwhelming its flanks. It gave them very little depth, but Norbanus was confident in the Roman legionary's ability to hold formation, no matter how heavy the pressure.
On his extreme left, the southern end, were the Gauls and Spaniards that had joined him, hearing that this Roman was extremely clever and lucky, a clear favorite of the gods who could make his friends rich. To the extreme north was the formation upon which so much of the coming battle depended: the Greek and Macedonian mercenaries he had inherited from the defeated Mastanabal. They were specialists in close-order fighting. Unlike the Romans, they hurled no javelins and placed little reliance on the sword. Instead, they fought with overlapped shields and long spears, overcoming their enemy through the weight of their formation and their own iron discipline. Those men had a crucial role to play.
It did not bother him in the least that both armies included so many Gauls, Spaniards, Greeks and Macedonians. The civilized men were professionals, and the savages just didn't care. All of them fought among themselves constantly.
His men sat on the ground, their shields propped up by their spears, while the noncombatant slaves distributed breakfast. Norbanus knew that it was folly to send men into battle on empty stomachs. He watched through his optical glass as Hamilcar's army marched from its encampment in leisurely fashion, two hours before the sun reached zenith.
They took up their positions exactly as they had encamped: Hamilcar's Greek and Macedonian units on the south, facing Norbanus's Gauls and Spaniards, Hamilcar's own Gauls facing the legions, his Spaniards fronting the northernmost legion and the massive block of the Greek-Macedonian phalanx.
"Splendid!" Norbanus said, marveling as always at how much the gods loved him. "If he'd allowed me to make his dispositions myself, I couldn't have done a better job."
"Maybe," Niger grumbled. "But it still seems a strange way to fight a battle."
Norbanus turned and addressed the officers crowding the platform behind him: all his cohort commanders and the senior centurions. "Gentlemen, you will never see me fight a battle that looks other than strange. It's the key to winning."
"But general," said a grizzled old centurion, "this business of keeping the legions purely on the defensive-the boys won't like it, sir. It goes against their training and their instincts."
"They'll like it when the battle is over," Norbanus assured them. "Believe me, soldiers love it when you don't get them killed. If anybody has any doubts when all this is over, I will deliver a speech that will let them know what this is all about." He turned and saw that Hamilcar's army was finally in full array-a terrifying sight in its great numbers. "Now go to your places. You all know what to do. Just watch and listen for my signals."
In order of rank, the officers filed from the platform. Norbanus watched them rejoin their units, saw the men stand and take up their shields and pila. He savored the moment. This was where he would lay the foundations for his future. Up until now, he had built a reputation, first as a daring commander, then as a victorious general. Here, on this field, he would establish his true greatness. And he would do it by eschewing glory for once.
By the time the sun was high, Hamilcar had his own observation and command platform erected. It was not as high as the rather Spartan Roman construction, but it was far more splendid. Its fine wood was richly carved and inlaid with ivory and shell. It was draped with beautiful cloth and adorned with bronze tripods in which burned incense to fend off the disagreeable smells of battle. His own throne, and the slightly lower throne of Queen Teuta, were covered with the skins of rare animals. At the shofet's right hand stood an altar consecrated to the gods of Carthage.
Hamilcar had performed all the prayers and sacrifices; he had seen to the final dispositions of his troops, and now he was ready to observe the battle and enjoy the pleasures of victory.
Opposite him, on the far side of the stream, the Roman army was thinly stretched, grown attenuated as Norbanus extended his line to avoid outflanking. It only thinned at the center, where his own troops would punch through by their sheer weight.
"Why," Hamilcar mused, "did this man Norbanus choose such an exposed field? I have studied the old Roman tactics, you know. In the old days, a Roman commander, faced with an enemy so much larger, would anchor his flanks with a swamp or a rocky hill or other terrain that would make it difficult for the enemy to flank him. That way he could achieve maximum depth all along his line of battle. I think Norbanus is overrated."
"I don't doubt he fancies he has a surprise for us," Teuta said, "though I can't imagine what it might be."
"No matter." Hamilcar stood, a resplendent sight in his golden armor and crown-shaped helmet. An attendant handed him a golden spear and Hamilcar held it high, then slowly lowered it until it pointed toward the center of the Roman line.
The horns brayed and the drums thundered and an enormous shout rose from the huge army. With a great surge, it began to advance toward the enemy. In front of the rest, the missile troops went forth at a run, singing tribal war songs. The Romans stayed where they were. The missile troops ran into the stream and began to flounder across.
Teuta felt the first feathery touch of apprehension along her spine. "That stream is deeper than it looks."
Hamilcar shrugged. "As long as it is fordable, that means nothing."
The missile troops halted before the Roman lines and began raining arrows, javelins and lead sling-bullets among them. The Romans replied by raising their customary shield roof. The more lightly equipped Gauls and Spaniards suffered more, but most of them obeyed Norbanus's instructions and stayed in place. A few high-spirited warriors ran out and attacked on their own, to little effect.
"This is tedious," Hamilcar complained, watching the missiles fall upon the shields. As far as he could see, not a single Roman had been harmed.
"Let them keep up their fire," Teuta advised. "Their arms have to get tired. Soon gaps will appear and the arrows will get through."
"No, I've seen them practice this formation before, outside Carthage and in the siege at Alexandria. It would take too long. I will send my army in and finish this." He nodded to an officer, who called out to the trumpeters, and the call went out from them for the missile troops and skirmishers to fall back. These men scrambled to find gaps for themselves to fade back within the advancing ranks.