Douglas Jackson: Saviour of Rome

Serpentius, gladiator trained to identify a weakness at a hundred paces, recognized it immediately. His eyes glittered like a hawk marking its prey. ‘See how Melanius, Severus, Piso and Harpocration all ride with the vanguard of Parthians,’ he pointed out. ‘The First cohort is two hundred paces and more behind, and the Second further back still. Then a smaller rearguard of more Parthians. Poor march discipline?’ He aimed the question at Valerius.

Valerius nodded. They’d witnessed it often in the early days of a long march. The excitement and hectic discipline natural when setting out was quickly replaced by lethargy, which in turn was magnified by the knowledge the formation was still in secure territory. It was never easy to maintain formation between infantry and cavalry, but doubly so with inexperienced soldiers. Melanius’s legionary cohorts, for all their long service, were garrison troops, who’d seldom left the fort for the past three years.

‘Proculus likely feels he has nothing to fear until he’s beyond Legio,’ the one-handed Roman suggested. ‘There is no force in Asturia that would pose a threat to two cohorts of legionary infantry. He’s allowed the First cohort to drop back so it doesn’t have to eat the dust of the vanguard. Melanius is the only one with the wit to see the danger, but I’d guess he doesn’t care to get involved in military matters. Piso is sensitive about his status as an officer of the Sixth. Melanius won’t do anything that might undermine his position.’ He studied the column again, wiping sweat from his eyes. ‘But what of it? Proculus is right. Even with the element of surprise our few hundred farmers would be slaughtered before the legionaries were properly warmed up.’

Tito bridled at the insult to his countrymen, but Serpentius cuffed him on the arm. ‘Listen to someone who knows what he’s talking about and learn from him. Their order of march is a weakness, but we’re not strong enough to take advantage of it.’

‘Then what’s the point of us even being here?’ Tito demanded.

‘Because,’ Valerius suddenly understood what Serpentius envisaged, ‘circumstances change and possibilities arise …’

‘But you have to be in a position to take advantage of those possibilities.’

‘And you have an idea?’

Tito looked at them as if they were mad, but his father only grinned.

‘I have an idea.’

‘This is where I stopped the gold convoy on the night Petronius died. I don’t see why it shouldn’t work again.’

They stood where the bank shelved towards the ford across the river. Valerius noted the narrow defile on the far side and the rocks that would protect the defenders. The road cut through a flat plain to reach this point, with two hundred or so paces of dusty earth, tufts of dried yellow grass and prickly shrubs separating the valley walls. They’d coaxed their horses down the rocky slope that formed the north side of the valley. To the south a gradual rise led to a long whaleback hill covered in stunted green pines. Experience told him that with a little effort they might make Melanius pause here – but stop him?

‘We don’t want to stop him.’ Serpentius read his mind. ‘Remember? We want to cut off the head of the snake.’ He pointed back up the road. ‘They come up the track and the Parthian scouts see spears glinting among those rocks. Not enough to frighten them, but sufficient to make them hesitate. Some will have been here with the gold convoy. My men were brave fools who allowed themselves to be lured from their position and were slaughtered. The hook-noses will be confident they can do the same.’

Valerius saw it right away. ‘So they won’t wait for the legionaries to come up and do the job.’

Serpentius shook his head. ‘Harpocration will want any glory for himself.’

‘They’ll leave men to guard Melanius and the rest.’

‘Ten or twenty,’ Serpentius said dismissively. ‘There’s a valley, more of a gully, cut into the north side.’ Valerius looked to where the Spaniard was pointing, a barely visible cleft in the rocks. ‘If you’re coming from the west you can’t see it until you’re directly opposite. We come out of nowhere and hit them hard and fast. The question is: how quickly can the First cohort react?’

Valerius studied the road and the scrubby ground around it and tried to imagine what he’d do in Proculus’s place. ‘Proculus will hesitate until he understands exactly what he’s up against. Once he’s seen how few we are, he’ll form line. It will take time.’ The surge of elation he felt rang clear in his voice. ‘Long enough for us to get to Melanius and Severus and slaughter them like sheep.’

‘What about Piso and Harpocration?’

‘If you’re right, Harpocration will be at the river with his men. Once Melanius is dead Piso is an irrelevance. If Proculus has any sense he’ll take back command of his men and march them straight back where they came from.’

‘Unless he decides to clean things up properly.’ Serpentius frowned.

Valerius had an image of the Asturians being hunted through the hills like rabbits by the legionary veterans. ‘If it comes to that Tito and his men need to know they must retreat. They’re not here to fight professional infantry.’ He hesitated. It wasn’t too late. The offer had to be made. ‘We can always go back to our original plan and send your farmers home?’

The Spaniard stared at him. A moment of uncertainty followed by decision. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It would be a betrayal of their courage and the people they’ve left behind to risk their lives fighting beside us. They believe if we succeed today their families will be safe from the Parthians and their children will have a better future. I hope they’re right, Valerius?’

‘I’ll make sure Vespasian knows what happened here, if I live. If I don’t, you take the papers to Pliny. He’ll listen to you. Melanius and his gang will lose in the end, Serpentius, but unless we can win today it will be at the cost of thousands of lives, Roman and Asturian. We’ve both seen enough blood spilled. Let us end it here.’

‘We’ll survive.’ Serpentius’s face broke into a wolf’s grin. ‘Hit and run. In and out before they know what’s happening. Like that day at Bedriacum with Marcus Antonius Primus’s cavalry.’

Valerius remembered that day with less relish and he hoped this one would turn out better. ‘How long before they get here?’

Serpentius glanced at the sun. It was close to mid-morning. ‘They don’t seem in any hurry, so four hours, maybe five.’

‘Then let us finish our preparations in two. The last thing we want is a stray scout stumbling on us. Who will lead the defenders?’

‘Tito,’ Serpentius said. It had been an awkward conversation. His son had been eager to take a more active role, but he’d seen sense in the end. ‘It needs to be an Asturian and Tito knows I’ll be more effective on horseback. I’ve given him his instructions, but I’ll speak to them before we take our positions.’

While Valerius inspected his ‘cavalry’, Serpentius lined up the two hundred men who had answered Tito’s rallying call. Some were driven by loyalty, some saw war as an adventure, but most only wanted the opportunity to avenge loved ones butchered in Parthian raids. They waited on a gravel mound overlooking the river. The water was lower than when Serpentius had last been here, but he hoped he could turn it to their advantage.

‘Tito has shown you your positions.’ He raised his voice so all would hear. ‘And he has told you what you must do. What must you do?’

‘We are to pull back across the river when the hook-noses approach, then defend our positions to the last breath.’ It was the voice of Placido, and it was accompanied by a murmur of approval.