"We have a hundred and fourteen men, counting ourselves, Varrus. How do we use them best?"
"Any way you want to." I was pleased to see that he, too, was kneading his buttocks. "But we have open ground ahead of us and a two-mile advance to the villa. I think we should make the most of our numbers, letting them see how many of us there are. It should scare them to death before we ever reach them. Our objective is to run them into the infantry. I suggest that we attack either in two lines of sixty or in three lines of forty. Three lines might be better. Ten paces between each two men and the same distance between each two lines. That way, to anyone seeing us coming, it'll look as though there are hundreds of us."
"I think you're right. That's the tactic we talked about last time I visited the Colony. I've had my men working on it, but we've never tested it."
"Neither have we. But it should work. There's enough room."
"So, three lines converging into three arrowheads. Can your men do this?"
I smiled at him. "Can crows fly?"
"Who will lead the third line?"
"Bassus. He's my strongest leader."
"Let's get him up here."
Within the quarter-hour we were ready, instructions having been passed among the men. This was a brand-new tactic designed one cold winter night by Picus, Titus Harmen and myself, expressly for situations like this one: open ground, room to manoeuvre, surprise on our side and an enemy who had never encountered cavalry before.
We would start our attack in three extended lines of forty men each. Each line would be staggered, so the enemy could see the troops in the second and third lines. As we moved forward, walking at first, then cantering, then loping before breaking into the charge, our manoeuvre would begin. The front rank would begin to converge on the man on the far left of the line: in this instance Bassus. At the same time, the second rank would begin converging on the man on the far right of their line: me. Two lateral motions, one from left to right, the other from right to left, and simultaneously with these moves, the rear rank would converge upon its centre man, Picus.
By the time the troops were cantering, the leaders would be moving slowly in again from the left and right, timing their movements so that as they rode, each had two men behind him, and three behind them, and four behind them, and so on; only the rear rank, led by Picus, would form up in its wedge directly behind its leader in a straight advance.
A watching enemy would see broad lines of mounted men moving across each other and finally solidifying into three wedge-shaped formations of heavy cavalry, each one capable of ploughing through any mass of men on foot.
We knew it would work. Our only concern was that it was untested in battle. Everything depended on the timing of the manoeuvre, with Picus's rear line becoming the pivot of the whole attack. He had to bring his squadron into line within seconds of the completion of squadron formation, to show the enemy a solid line of horsemen coming at the charge, with three armed points extended towards them.
Once this had been accomplished, the arrowhead formation should, we believed, be almost infinitely versatile against infantry. It was easy to maintain. A man on the outside of a squadron only had to know that the man ahead of him was to his right, if he himself rode on the left side of the formation; vice versa if his place was on the right side of the arrowhead. Those on the inside of the formation moved ahead and then either right or left to replace any on the outside ranks who went down. Each man had enough room to fight and enough protection inside the formation to be safe. We had simply quadrupled the traditional Roman fighting space per man, to accommodate the horses.
As I said, we knew it should work. I wondered how many of the men behind me suspected that this was the first time I had ever ridden into battle as a bona fide mounted trooper?
In the next quarter of an hour the night grew pitch-black. We could see nothing. Then I heard Picus say, "Varrus, I can see you," and I opened my eyes and saw the dim shapes of men and horses again. As the light grew stronger, Picus issued the order to mount up and form three ranks. Someone gave me a leg up on to Germanicus and I took my place at the far right of the second rank. And then we waited, watching the dawn come up and waiting for Picus to give the signal to advance — waiting for the killing to begin. Somewhere to my left a horse nickered softly and was answered by another from in front. Germanicus was restless, and I stroked his neck, gentling him. Somewhere up ahead a lark starting singing in the dawn sky and was joined by another and then another until the sky was filled with birdsong.
XXII
It seemed to take hours for the light to grow full, but eventually we were able to see the buildings of the villa standing out clearly in the morning light less than two miles away across the open fields. Our force sat motionless. I heard the sound of a horse approaching me, and I swung around on Germanicus's back to see Picus coming towards me at a walk along the line behind me. He looked magnificent in his black and white and silver on his great, black horse, and I suddenly became aware of the colours of our group. The six men on either side of the space in the rear line where Picus had been were dressed in his colours, black armour and white tunics, and all six were mounted on blacks. My own men were mounted on unmatched horses but looked superb in their scarlet and bronze and brown leather.
Picus drew rein beside me. "Your men look good, Varrus. I don't want to waste this first charge. I want those animals ahead of us to get their first good look at a charge of Roman cavalry, so we'll wait a little longer until they can't fail to see us." "It's Roman-British cavalry, Picus, but I see your point." "Roman-British, of course. Anyway, I think it's light enough now. I'll walk back to my place and sound the advance. Where are your trumpets?"
"One beside me here on my left. One with Bassus at the far end of the front rank."
"Excellent. Will your men take up my call?"
"They will, they're waiting for it."
I watched him walk his horse slowly back to his position in the centre of the rear rank, passing the time of day with the troopers as he passed, and as he regained his place I returned my gaze to the villa, straining to see signs of movement.
Then the trumpet call rang out, harsh and brassy, to be taken up by our own trumpets. I watched the man in the line in front of me kick his horse to a walk and I gauged the gap between us until it was about fifty paces, then I kicked Germanicus and felt him move forward beneath me as I looked left to make sure that my own line was in order, with no one out in front of me. The space between the lines was crucial; too close together and the lines crossing into formation could be completely fouled up. My men were fine.
We walked for about a furlong and then I squeezed Germanicus into a trot, seeing the man ahead of me beginning to move to his left, angling towards his own formation point. The sound of hooves was growing louder now as the tempo of our pace increased. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw my trumpeter, who had been on my left, riding close behind me, just where he should be, and even as I looked, another man emerged behind him to his right. So far, so good. Our arrowhead was forming according to plan, just as we had rehearsed it on the parade ground so many times. Once again I looked ahead. The rank ahead of me had pulled far to the left, performing nicely. I checked over my left shoulder, resisting the urge to pick up the pace. The tail-end of my rank was now clearing the centre of our line of advance, heading obliquely towards me, and I saw the black and white of Picus's point coming forward. Now was the time to pick up speed again. I loosened the reins slightly and Germanicus surged into a canter.