The Wolf's Gold (30 page)

Under the veteran centurion’s gimlet eye the officers stood to attention while the two legati took their places by the map table. Albinus looked about him with a slightly bemused smile, while his colleague Gaius Pescennius Niger’s expression was altogether more dour.

‘Very well, gentlemen, relax, and gather round the map if you will.’

The assembled officers obeyed Niger’s command, clustering round the meticulously constructed map table while he waited for them to settle into place. Julius looked down at the plaster replica of the landscape across which the campaign against the Sarmatae would be fought.

‘Lend me your vine stick will you please, First Spear?’

Secundus surrendered his badge of office to his legatus, the look on his face indicating his displeasure at having to allow his commanding officer to make free with his most treasured possession. Oblivious to the centurion’s reproving stare, Niger looked around the circle of men with the stick held up until he was sure he had every man’s full attention.

‘So, gentlemen, here we are, two full legions, or as close as one can get to such a thing these days, and eight auxiliary cohorts, seventeen if we choose to pull in the garrisons of the forts within marching distance, two of them formed of cavalry recruited from Britannia.’ He caught sight of Belletor’s raised eyebrows. ‘Plus, of course, the First Minervia’s Seventh Cohort and a thousand allied barbarian cavalry recently recruited in the south of the province. And as of now we’re all based here, at Porolissum.’

He pointed with the vine stick at the map table’s lovingly constructed replica of the local geography, and Marcus stared with interest at the contours of the ground across which the campaign to come would be fought.

‘Our opponent is a Sarmatae chieftain called Purta, who we are informed is fielding approximately twelve thousand cavalry and another ten thousand light infantry. Against our heavy infantry the foot soldiers represent a negligible threat. First Spear Secundus and his colleagues would tear through them in an hour or two of butchery and slave-taking. The enemy horse, however, represent an entirely different and more serious proposition. Gentlemen, to be very clear, that strength of barbarian cavalry, if used decisively and in mass, would without doubt represent a very serious threat, even to a force as strong as ours.’

He paused, looking about him again.

‘Some of you, those who haven’t ever faced barbarian cavalry of this type, will be wondering if I might perhaps be a little overcautious in that assessment. I can see it in your faces. Gentlemen, our military history is littered with cautionary tales of otherwise distinguished commanders who underestimated the capabilities of the Sarmatae, and before them the Parthians, and paid a heavy price for doing so. These Sarmatae are men raised on the great grasslands beyond these mountains, taught to ride at an age when most children in the empire are still considered infants. They do not need to use their hands to control their mounts, learning to do so purely by means of the pressure they exert with their knees. That leaves their hands free to use a bow on the move, and they are expert at hitting a target from a moving horse time after time, whether advancing, retreating or just riding round in a damned circle. As if that isn’t enough of a threat, they carry a long lance which they call the kontos, capable of spitting a man without having to get close enough that he can use his own spear in return.’

Niger shook his head.

‘So call me a pessimist behind my back if you like, but I will not risk my legion in battle with that strong a force of their horsemen on open ground. My colleague here and I’ – he gestured to Albinus, who inclined his head in grave agreement – ‘have decided that this is a battle that we will win by tempting a headstrong enemy onto well-defended and carefully prepared positions. Once we have the enemy horse nicely bogged down then we will unleash our legionaries to conduct their slaughter . . .’ He raised a warning finger and looked around the assembled officers with a stern glare. ‘But until then, gentlemen, be warned that I am determined not to give them the chance to wreak the havoc they are all too capable of inflicting upon us,
if
we are unwise enough to let them do so. Colleague, will you explain our plan?’

Albinus nodded, taking the vine stick with a wink to its grizzled owner.

‘As you newcomers to Porolissum can see, we’re here, on top of this ridge which runs south-west to north-east. These are the Knife Mountains, gentlemen, and they are well named. They are largely impassable to any sort of military formation other than the most lightly equipped scouts, and crossed by passes at a very few points, most of which are laughably simple to defend due to their narrow nature. Our forts to the mountains’ rear are perfectly placed not only to resist any direct attack, but also to allow the cohorts that occupy them to move quickly in defence of these passes.’

He looked around the group of officers with a knowing smile.

‘Which means that nature has provided us with a very handy rampart against any barbarian attack from the north-west. However,’ – he pointed with the stick to the southern end of the ridge – ‘all good things will naturally come to their end, and so it is with this line of defence. As you can see, the mountains are split by a valley, here, which provides a natural point which an aggressive enemy commander would undoubtedly consider as the key that will unlock this particular door. For that reason there are three forts positioned along the length of the valley in a line from south-east to north-west.’ He pointed with the stick. ‘Lakeside Fort here, Stone Fort here, and lastly Two Rivers Fort, here.Two of them are not very much more than glorified lookout posts, but Stone Fort is a far tougher nut to crack and represents the heart of the valley’s defence. We’ve sent two cohorts of Britons, First Britannica and Second Britannorum to man the forts, since they seem to be bloodthirsty maniacs to a man, and given command of the valley’s defence to one of our more energetic young tribunes. By now I would expect him to have the place as tightly defended as the praetorian fortress in Rome.’

He pointed at the valley with the borrowed vine stick.

‘So, if the Sarmatae look to turn our line by attacking up this valley, aiming to get behind the mountain ridge and into our rear area, they must first deal with the garrisons of these forts. This man Purta’s dilemma is that he must either break into each fort in turn and destroy the garrison, or bypass them and tolerate the risk presented by their presence in his rear. Either choice is problematic, of course, since he either accepts a significant delay to his advance, and allows time for stronger forces to be moved into position to block his way up the valley, or else finds himself with our spears to both front and rear.

‘Now we have it on very good authority that Purta believes the defences arrayed against him in the valley are too strong. He fears that by the time his army has smashed a path through them, and cleared a route out onto the open ground his horsemen need, he’ll find a legion blocking his way. He therefore plans, we are informed, to turn just such a plan against us. He will make a feint up the valley, with the intention of drawing a legion into exactly such a blocking position, and then sending his full strength at a point somewhere else along the ridge. He’s going to roll the dice, colleagues, and gamble that he can weaken the province’s main line of defence enough to walk through the front door while the bouncers’ attention is distracted by a scuffle in the corner.’

The legatus smiled around at his officers, his eyes bright with the prospect of action.

‘Whereas we, armed with this inside information, are going to give every indication that we’ve fallen for his ploy whilst keeping our main strength concentrated, and ready to land the one blow that will end this war in a single battle. Whichever pass through the mountains Purta sends his main force at, he’ll find two legions massed and ready to meet him, and on ground that’s been well prepared. Questions?’

Scaurus raised a hand.

‘Tribune?’

‘Legatus, if you’re going to keep the Thirteenth Gemina and the Fifth Macedonica concentrated for the main battle, how are you going to convince this Purta that you’ve taken his bait?’

The legatus grinned back at him.

‘Perceptive, Rutilius Scaurus, very perceptive indeed. We’ll have mounted scouts out, of course, and once we know that the Sarmatae are making their move on the valley I propose to send an initial relief force from the south-western end of the line. Any enemy scouts sent forward past the river forts will see the movement and take it for the advance guard of the blocking force. The report will go back to Purta that we’ve taken his bait, and he’ll make his move on the main line in blessed ignorance of what’s waiting for him. On top of that, this apparent relief force will also serve to sweep the valley clear of scouts, and prevent them from getting so far up the valley that they realise there’s no legion moving up in support. Quite an elegant solution, I’d say. And now that you mention it, given that your Tungrians have rather more battle experience than most of our forces, I’d say they’ll make the ideal units for a task which is, of course, likely to result in an action of some kind. Do you think you can handle such a mission?’

Scaurus nodded, already hard in thought as he stared at the map table.

‘Legatus!’

Albinus swivelled his head to regard Tribune Belletor, standing at the other end of the table from his former colleague and wearing an expression of concern.

‘Tribune?’

‘My command, Legatus, is every bit as powerful as that under Rutilius Scaurus’s leadership, and has the advantage of mustering a powerful force of cavalry. I propose that the Tungrians advance along one bank of the river, while we will manage the other.’

Albinus shared a glance with Niger, but it was the older man who responded to Belletor’s request.

‘Your cavalry, Tribune, if my memory serves, are only recently recruited from the Sarmatae you defeated at Alburnus Major. I wonder, perhaps, if they represent too great a risk to be put into the field against their own tribe.’

Belletor, having clearly anticipated the response, reacted with uncharacteristic understatement.

‘I completely understand your concern, Legatus. Perhaps it would help if I were to tell you that they have already been active in scouting before us as we marched north. On more than one occasion the scouting parties of these horsemen that I sent out to clear our path brought back the bodies of Sarmatae scouts they had managed to kill, along with their mounts. My discussions with them have convinced me that they care little for these other people, owing loyalty only to their own offshoot of the tribe, and in the absence of their kindred, to me as their paymaster. And besides’ – Marcus watched his tribune’s eyes narrow as Belletor advanced his argument one last step – ‘the use of their own horsemen as part of the master plan that undoes this Purta’s invasion of the province will surely play very well in Rome, I would have thought.’

‘Hmmm. I see.’ Niger stroked his bearded chin, looking at Albinus with a calculating expression. ‘Military and political advantages combined, eh? Very well, Tribune Belletor, my colleague and I will give your proposal due consideration and inform you as to our decision in due course. Any more questions? No? Very well gentlemen, go back to your cohorts and ensure that your men are in prime condition and ready to fight. Here’s your vine stick, First Spear Secundus.’

The Tungrian cohorts marched from Porolissum at dawn three days later, heading down the military road that followed the line of the Knife Mountains to the south-west in the company of the Thracian archers who were ordered to reinforce the defence at Stone Fort, while Belletor’s mismatched force bought up the rear. The Sarmatae horsemen rode in a straggling mass at the column’s rear, as immune to any form of marching discipline as had been the case since their enlistment.

‘I presume your tribune’s riding with his new best friends, perched up on that horse of his like some kind of conquering general?’

Julius had dropped back to the rear of his men and by happy chance had found First Spear Sergius marching at the head of his legionaries with a dark and foreboding look. The two men were now marching together with their cloaks wrapped about them to fend off the bitterly cold wind.

‘Indeed he is. Since he managed to persuade Legatus Niger to put him on the right bank of the river for this march down to Lakeside Fort, he’s been puffing and preening like a man preparing to ride through Rome with the rose petals floating down around him.’ Sergius shook his head and spat on the road’s verge. ‘I’ve tried to point out to him that he has no idea as to their real loyalties, but he’s like a man besotted with his new wife. All I get back is “my tribesmen this” and “my tribesmen that”, and no concern at all for his regular soldiers.’ He pointed to Julius’s boots, their new fur linings visible around the ankle. ‘Our boots are stuffed with straw, not rabbit like yours. The storeman told Belletor that your men had already taken everything they had to spare, and since he didn’t have a legatus supporting him he was forced to walk away empty handed. He’s got fur linings in
his
boots mind you, and a nice fur cloak. He was given them by his bloody Sarmatae.’

The two men marched in silence for a moment, enjoying the crisp autumn air and the constant rattle of hobnails on the road’s cobbled surface.

‘They’re decent enough scouts though?’

Sergius grimaced reluctant agreement.

‘So it seems. You saw just as well as I did what they brought back with them from their patrol over the mountains.’

The deciding factor in Niger’s decision had been a patrol that Belletor had sent over the mountains, with orders to range along their northern slopes in search of enemy scouts. The thirty-man party had returned with two empty saddles, but with the heads of half a dozen dead tribesmen dangling from their saddle horns, and the legatus had been an instant convert to the idea of their being used alongside the First Minervia’s regulars. Julius nodded.

‘Exactly. I may not have very much respect for your tribune, but it does seem as if he’s picked a winner for once.’