Simon Scarrow - Britannia

‘That’s true,’ Quintatus conceded, ‘but they will still be starving and we’ll be another fifteen miles further away from any of our fortresses on the provincial frontier. And the enemy may simply sit on their heels and wait to starve us into submission. I, for one, would prefer to try and cut our way through the blocking force and attempt to reach the frontier. But I am open to suggestions, if anyone has any to offer.’

He paused and looked round at his officers. There was no immediate reply, and then Tribune Livonius stood up. Cato and the others turned towards him, curious to see what wisdom a junior tribune might offer his vastly more experienced comrades.

‘Begging your pardon, sir, but another course of action does occur to me.’

‘I’m all ears, Tribune.’

‘Well, sir, as you know, I’ve been mapping the campaign as thoroughly as I can . . . well, that is, we have.’ He indicated Hieropates standing next to him, who bowed his head modestly as his master continued. ‘That entailed taking reports from patrols sent out to scout the terrain on either side of the line of march. Quite often such patrols covered a lot of ground, so we were able to extend the scope of the map accordingly, depending on their reports and-’

‘Look, this is all very fascinating, Tribune, but we’re in a fix. I need solutions, not presentations to the cartographers’ guild. What is your point?’

Livonius’s face flushed and he swallowed nervously before he continued. ‘I think I recognise this place, sir.’

‘You think? How?’

‘I went out with patrols from time to time, and on one occasion we came to a defile that led through some crags before opening out to the sea quite close to here. We made notes and came back the same way. There was no question of using the route, since it was impassable to wagons and any other wheeled traffic. But men and horses could negotiate it easily enough.’

Quintatus took a step closer to the tribune. ‘Where is this defile? Could you find it again?’

‘Oh yes, sir. It’s no more than a mile from here, between two of the mountains. I could point it out to you easily enough, given the moonlight.’

‘Later. Tell me what’s on the far side of it. Where does it lead?’

Livonius concentrated a moment. ‘There’s a valley between the defile and the route the army took on the way to Mona. No more than fifteen miles’ march. And from there, it’s mostly easy ground back to Mediolanum. Well, it was before the snow began to fall, at any rate.’

Quintatus had been listening intently. Now he thought through his options and turned to the rest of the officers. ‘We have three choices, then. We march and fight. Stay and fight. Or we try to escape the trap and head into the mountains.’

Valens shook his head. ‘I don’t like the sound of the last, sir. The going is bad enough here. It’ll be worse in the mountains. We’d be abandoning the shelter of the camp to take our chances on the word of this youngster. It’s too much of a risk.’

His superior gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘It’s a risk versus the certainty of destruction if we stay here and make a stand, or the likelihood of being annihilated if we march east and try to fight our way through before the main enemy force falls on our rear.’

‘There’s another problem, sir,’ said Cato. ‘Something we would have to consider.’

The legate rounded on him. ‘And that is?’

‘If this defile is not suitable for our wagons and carts, then what do we do with the wounded? We might be able to use the remaining mules and horses, but they’re in a poor state and would not get far with such a burden. Besides, there are too few of them. We might save the walking wounded, but there would still be hundreds who would have to be left behind. And we know what the Druids like to do with their Roman captives . . .’ He let the thought sink in so that none of the other officers could hide from the implications. ‘We can’t leave them behind alone, or at least alive.’

Macro’s eyes widened. ‘Now hang on, sir. What are you saying? We top our lads and do a runner?’

Cato took a deep breath. ‘If we want to save the rest of the column, then what choice do we have? If we stay and try and fight it out, the wounded will die anyway. At least we can give them the chance to make their own decision when the time comes. And for those too badly injured to help themselves, the surgeons can do it as painlessly as possible.’

‘By the gods, sir. That’s no way to treat our comrades. These are men we have fought with-’

‘Prefect Cato is right,’ Quintatus intervened. ‘If we leave the camp, then we have to leave behind those too badly injured to walk.’

Valens coloured as he leaned forward and tapped the thigh of his splinted leg. ‘That’s easy for you to say, sir. I hope you’ll explain your thinking to all the wounded.’

‘I would not abandon the commander of a legion to the enemy. We would find a way out for you.’

Valens glared back. ‘Save me while the others are left behind to be butchered? I would never allow myself to be so dishonoured.’

‘Nonsense, man! I am thinking of the damage to the reputation of Rome if you were to be taken alive by the Druids.’

‘Trust me, sir. I would not let that happen.’

The two legates stared at each other for a moment before Cato interrupted the confrontation. ‘Sir, if I may make a suggestion?’

Quintatus tore his eyes away and faced the prefect. ‘What is it now?’

‘If we make good our escape, the enemy will soon guess what is up and come after us, once they’ve dealt with the wounded left in the camp. If we want to buy ourselves some time to get a decent head start, it would be better if there was some effort to defend the camp, to make it look like the army is still within the palisade.’

‘Anyone who remains will die.’

Cato nodded slowly before he responded. ‘Someone has to, whatever you decide, sir. I suggest we ask for volunteers, and then draw lots for the rest.’

‘The rest?’ Valens snorted. ‘How many men did you have in mind, Prefect Cato?’

‘Enough to make it look convincing, sir. Five hundred men should put up a decent show and hold the camp for a few hours at least.’

‘Five hundred men . . .’

‘Yes, sir.’

No one in the tent spoke for a moment. It was Quintatus who finally stirred, straightening his back as he addressed his officers. ‘As I see it, there is only one choice that allows us to save as many men as possible. Men we will need to form the core of a new army to complete the work I have started on this campaign. There’s a full moon at present. But there are clouds coming down from the mountains. The army will leave when it is darkest. Each commanding officer will ask for volunteers to remain behind to defend the camp. If necessary, we will draw lots to ensure that we have adequate men to maintain the illusion that the army is still in the camp. I will not ask officers above the rank of centurion to participate in drawing lots.’

Legate Valens raised his hand and interrupted without being given leave to speak. ‘If you’ll pardon me, I don’t think we should exempt any officer, except yourself, of course, sir. After all, we wouldn’t want someone of your rank falling into the hands of the Druids either. As for me, I will remain in camp to take charge of its defence. It will set a good example when we ask for volunteers.’

Quintatus considered this for a moment. ‘Very well, if you are sure.’

‘I am.’

‘Then we’ll need to act fast. Every unit commander is to brief his men on the plan, before he asks for the names of those who will remain. If we need more men, I will send word of how many each unit will be asked to contribute. After that, all units are to form up ready to leave by the southern gateway. Tribune Livonius will first establish where exactly the entrance to the defile is, directly we have concluded this briefing.’