None of the attackers had ever dealt with Roman tactics, it was plain. None of them noticed that the fleeing cavalry regrouped immediately, on either side of the phalanx of the rearguard, which had stopped at the first sign of attack, and then stood firm. None saw—or if they did, they were too far committed to regroup—that the exposed infantry was regrouping rapidly as well, deploying outwards upon itself to form two hollow squares, each three men deep, each forming an unbreakable, four sided defensive wall before the nearest enemy could close to within throwing distance.
As the first waves of attackers began to throw themselves uselessly and suicidally against the standing squares, I arrived in the valley at the head of my five hundred and aligned my troops to the right of the rearguard. No one sought to interfere with any of us. The fighting was contained about the squares of infantry, who were having no , difficulty standing off the enemy. I looked up to the head of the valley, where my other thousand cavalry sat waiting, less than a mile away, commanded by Tessius. I realized then that I had one more order to deliver before signalling them down. I called young Bedwyr to me and sent him galloping, escorted by six troopers, to tell Tessius to lead his charge westward, downhill along the line of the squares to my left. He was to charge immediately upon receiving my order, and I would move when he did, leading my forces upward to the east, on the right of the squares. On either side, we would trample the enemy beneath our hooves, while remaining far enough away from the squares themselves to present no threat to our own infantry. I watched Bedwyr and his escort gallop away and settled back to wait for him to make the transit of the field. Nothing is as difficult for a leader as having to wait, while in front of him his men are being killed.
Even in the short time it took for Bedwyr to ride up the valley floor, however, it was becoming evident that we had won a victory. The enemy were bloodthirsty and fierce, ferocious and undisciplined, but they were not stupid. They had already recognized the folly of throwing themselves against the unwavering rows of our shields and spears, and now many of them hung back, their weapons dangling from their hands, looking about them to the east and west, peering towards where our cavalry sat motionless and filled with menace. I saw several men running this way and that, exhorting others, tugging at arms and clothing, and then a barely discernible progress began away from the fight as groups and bands began to disengage and move away.
Next came the brazen peal of Tessius's trumpets,, and his long line of men surged into motion. My own trumpets sounded immediately, and I stripped the sheath from my sword and sank my spurs into Germanicus, sending him forward.
It was slaughter—nothing less. One pass we made, from west to east, and scarce a living man was left to face us. They had outnumbered us, it seemed, by almost a full thousand, but we had lost less than a score of our infantry and captured half a hundred of theirs. The others, nigh on four full thousand of diem, lay dead. Several score escaped the field and we made no attempt to hinder them. We left the dead to rot where they had fallen, since we had neither the time nor the means to bury them, and left that dismal place to be whispered of by our enemies, and to be cleansed in time by birds, animals, insects and the purifying actions of the weather.
From that day forward, no enemy had stood against us. The report I had received today from Philip had become routine. We had no belligerent opposition in Cambria, despite the fact that the Pendragon lands still swarmed with Ironhair's mercenaries and the war of invasion was being fought daily. The enemy was near, but always out of our reach. Yet we had tried, and had come close to winning. Twice now we had been successful in driving the enemy ahead of us like partridges, pushing them towards the coast, but on each occasion, thanks to some form of signalling or communication that might tempt a man to believe in magic, a fleet of galleys had been waiting just offshore to spirit them away to safety before we could close with them. Something new was called for, but to this point I had been unable to find any alternative strategy that might offer hope for more success.
Our campaign along the southern coast, on the other hand, where our objectives were fixed towns and harbours, had been hearteningly successful and our victory complete. There was no place now in all of the southern half of Cambria where Ironhair could land his vessels without fear of being attacked and losing his cargo. Nowadays, his fleets plied north and south, maintaining a safe distance from the shore, and the few new levies that his vessels ferried must land in the far north, then make their way southwards through inhospitable terrain that was filled with dour and bitter enemies.
My thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of a rolling stone, and then came Donuil's voice from above and behind me, calling to me that my officers were assembled and waiting. I sighed and rose to my feet, then put away my stone and sheathed my sword before replacing my helmet and climbing up onto Germanicus, who made his way without urging towards the sound of Donuil's voice. The big Celt sat waiting for me, his face expressionless, and when I drew level with him he reined his own horse about and rode knee to knee with me.
"Look yonder," he said. I turned and gazed along the coastline to my right, shielding my eyes against the water reflected brightness of the sun.
"What? I can't see anything."
Donuil was squinting, too. "Neither can I, now, " he murmured. "But the big bireme's out there, just a dot on the skyline. Derek saw it first and gave voice. "
I stared hard now, squinting almost directly into the brightness, but it was hopeless; there was nothing to see except scintillating sheets of blinding brilliance. "What about the other ships accompanying it? How many?"
We were headed steeply downhill now, towards the command tent on the level turf above the sloping beach. 'Too far away to see, let alone count, " Donuil said. "But you'll see better, once we get down there. The angle's better, and there's less reflection. "
Sure enough, when we reached the level land above the beach the coruscating brilliance of the sun on the waves was greatly diminished and I could see the huge shape of the bireme, clearly accompanied now by a host of lesser ships. I reached the command tent to find everyone staring off to sea, talking among themselves and unaware of my approach.
I dismounted and walked towards the table set up on the rostrum outside the tent. "Well, gentlemen, " I called. "Does anyone have any advice to offer on the disposition of this fleet? Will it come down on us, think you? Or is it merely passing us by to relieve some harbour to the east of us?"
Huw Strongarm swung around to face me and approached. "They won't come near us here. "
"Why not, Huw?"
"There's no place for them to land, for one thing, other than this beach behind us, and it slopes too much to let them close to us. By the time they disembarked and charged this far, through water up to their waists, they'd all be dead and we'd be out of arrows. "
I nodded. "Right. So they won't be coming here. But they'll see us clearly enough. Is there a disadvantage to us in that?"