Jack Whyte - The Eagles' Brood

He stopped again, and smiled grimly before ending the proposed plan. "In the meantime, as soon as the final battle is committed, your left wing, at the rear of the rout; will disengage, turn about and capture the enemy encampment, leaving our infantry to follow up on the retreating enemy."

We had been listening to him in motionless concentration, visualizing the entire battle as he laid it out, seeing the stark, pristine simplicity of it and growing increasingly conscious of how important timing would be for the entire enterprise. When he had done, there was silence for several seconds before Uther spoke.

"Whose plan is this?"

"General Picus's, Commander."

"I thought so." He turned to me. "It will work, Merlyn. What side do you want, right or left?"

I shrugged. "Makes no difference. Your choice. But we are running out of time and we have much to do."

"Good, I'll take the left and go in first. How many men . will I have?"

I was already estimating our forces. "Three hundred, but you have to move them quickly. To gain effect, you have to launch your charge from behind their camp, almost directly south of them, so you have to move now."

"I'm gone already. But what else should I know?"

My mind was racing. I spoke to the young messenger. "You command a squadron?" He nodded. "Then today you command our centre, with four hundred men. Choose a subordinate to lead two hundred, south of a median from here to the fort, to strengthen Commander Uther's thrust once he has achieved his surprise. You yourself choose the time to commit your own two hundred to the charge, when the enemy has cleared the north-east corner of our camp. I will , stay hidden with our remaining three hundred and await Flavius's sortie from the fort. Now, let's move."

Uther was watching me closely. "Merlyn," he said, "you look displeased. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. But I would like to know what's going on up at the fort. Flavius may not be able to bring out his cavalry."

"Then he'll be dead. That's the only thing that will stop him."

"I know," I concurred, "but as I said, we don't know what's going on up there. If Flavius does not come out, my three hundred will not make much of a difference."

Uther barked his strange laugh again. "By that time, if that happens, it will not matter, Cousin. We'll be in the hands of Mithras. Anyway, I will keep watch. If Flavius does not come out, I'll turn my own men and come to help you rather than capturing their camp. One way or another it will be an ending, have no fears."

I grinned at him in the greying darkness. "I have no fear, Uther. I'm too terrified for fear!"

He laughed again and punched me in the shoulder. "See you later, Cousin."

I can take no credit for the conduct of the battle or for the successful unfolding of the plan. I can say only that it worked perfectly when it did unfold. We had the better part of an hour to make our troop dispositions before daylight revealed our presence to the enemy. By then I had my own three hundred men well hidden, far to the right of Uther's launching point, with time on my hands to worry over whether he would make it to his own position in time to begin his attack with surprise on his side. I had nothing else to do but wait for the sounds of his charge, but I waited and waited and the sky grew bright. Finally, when I could wait no longer without seeing for myself what was afoot, I went back alone towards the forest's edge and found a spot where I could see through the screen of trees. There was no sign of Uther's force on the plain to my left. He had not yet moved his men out of hiding.

I can recall my initial reaction of anger clearly as I wondered why he would have delayed so long, and I leaped from my horse and went forward on foot. Ahead of me, on the very fringe of the tree line, stood a mighty oak tree, and I climbed high into its branches and looked out over the campus that stretched unbroken from its base to the hill of Camulod. The citadel on the hilltop was obscured by drifting smoke, but as I looked a wind sprang up from the east and began blowing the roiling clouds away from the walls. I could see no flames, but I was far away. And it was only then that I perceived the reason for Uther's delay in launching his attack.

The enemy was on the move, in massed, seemingly disciplined ranks, towards our camp at the bottom of the hill. As they moved, I guessed their numbers at around five thousand, with a leading assault force of some three hundred war chariots. I stared at these in disbelief, not having known until that time that war chariots still existed in Britain. To my knowledge, none had been used in battle for decades, and then only in the far north. They moved with pomp and purpose, and as they neared our embattled camp their brethren who had been attacking it, some two to three thousand strong, fell back to give them access.

As these retiring fighters streamed away, their numbers mingled with and crossed through the confident, advancing army, so that for a space all semblance of disciplined movement disappeared, and it was then that Uther committed his forces from the south, behind them, his brazen trumpets neighing loud and clear. His surprise was absolute. Lot's melding armies, advancing and withdrawing through each other, wavered in confusion for a fatal interval as their commanders sought to assimilate and respond to this unexpected apparition. By the time their ranks started to wheel in some semblance of formation, Uther's three hundred cavalry, charging in five tight-knit, invincible wedge-shaped squadrons, each with three individual twenty-man wedge formations, had halved the distance separating them. I watched spellbound in admiration, clearly seeing Uther's great dragon standard at the apex of the central squadron. This was the formation manoeuvre we had spent month after month preparing but had not used in battle until now.

Then, a half minute before the opening clash of battle, another rally sounded to my left as the first half of our centre, two hundred horse, broke into their charge, their formations emerging as they built up speed, advancing to hit the enemy on the now-open flank. I glanced back towards Uther's charge and, in the moments that remained before the action joined, I saw the morning light reflect from massed spearpoints as Titus sent his infantry out through the southern and the eastern gates in maniples of one hundred and twenty men each.

Caught up in the excitement of the scene, I almost lost sight of my own role in the events that were unfolding. Lot's people came to pillage, I exulted. They had not known what they would really face. They had not expected Roman tactics combined with the strategies of Alexander! Then I threw myself down from the tree, leaping from limb to limb, castigating myself for my doubts, but already beginning to anticipate the launching of my own three hundred men. I swung myself back onto my horse and rejoined my troops, signalling them to stand fast, then I sent one of Uther's Celts up into the tree where I had been, bidding him pass the word to me when the enemy had passed the northeast corner of our camp and the final assault of our centre had begun.

It seemed to take hours for that to happen, and in the meantime we sat and waited, seeing the battle only through the eyes of the man up in the tree although, from his shouted commentary, it soon became clear that all was unfolding as planned. I experienced again the agonies of waiting and wondering, and in my agitation I found myself fidgeting with the weapon that Uther had made for me, the iron ball on the length of chain. I untied it from where it hung by my saddle and slipped the loop over my wrist, gripping the thick, wooden handle and enjoying the substantial, solid weight of the apparatus. I was standing in my stirrups, vainly trying to see through the screen of leaves ahead of me when the cry came from the man in the tree above: the gates of the fort were open and our cavalry coming out. I swung the iron ball around my head, shouted to the men ranked behind me, sat back in the saddle and kicked my horse hard, seeing the man in the tree coming down almost as fast as I had, and then we were out in the open and driving hard across the path of Lot's demoralized army, trumpets blaring, lost in the growing thunder of our hooves as our mounts increased their speed with every stride, moving into the tight, arrowhead formations that were designed to slice through any mass of foot-soldiers. And as the distance closed between us and the enemy, I raised my eyes again and again to the summit of the hill in front of us and heard my own voice soaring in exultation as I watched my father's cavalry swarming out from the curtain wall and pouring down the hill to join us for the killing.