disappeared, his body dragged down by the weight of his armour.
‘Poor sod,’ someone muttered.
‘Silence in the ranks!’ Macro shouted. ‘Silence!’
The awful tension became evermore taut and strained for the legionaries as they waited for the main body of the enemy to arrive, though they did not have to wait long. At first there was the sound of a faint rumbling that grew steadily louder and more distinct. Then a haze thickened over the crest of the hill where the track disappeared from sight. At last the silhouettes of standards, spears, then helmets and the bodies of men came into sight, all along the top of the hill.
Macro’s eyes ran along the vanguard of Caratacus’ army, taking in the sight of thousands of men pouring down the slope towards the ford. Then he turned to the opposite bank and looked for any sign of Maximius and the rest of the cohort. But across the placid surface of the Tamesis all was quite still.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Are you certain Macro said it was the main enemy force?’ ‘A ‘Yes, sir,’ the runner replied.
‘Right, get over to the decurion.’ Maximius pointed out the column of mounted men out to their left flank. ‘Tell him to send word of the enemy column to Vespasian, at once. Go!’
As the runner saluted and made off towards the scouts Maximius summoned his centurions. Immediately they came trotting up along the halted column and he waited until Cato, who had furthest to run, had joined them before he told them the news.
‘Caratacus is making for our ford. He’s got a head start. Look over there.’ The cohort commander pointed to the far side of the river. A faint haze that Cato had not noticed before stretched out low over the far bank of the Tamesis.
‘Where’s Macro?’ asked Tullius.
‘He’s at the ford, preparing his defences.’
‘Defences? He’s going to make a stand?’ Tullius raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Those were the orders given to the cohort.’
‘Yes, but, sir, it’s suicide.’
‘Let’s hope not, since we’re going to join him.’
Antonius and Felix exchanged a look of surprise.
Cato edged forward. ‘We’d better get moving, sir.’
‘Indeed, Cato. All of you, get back to your units. We’ll move at double time. No stopping for stragglers.’
The centurions were running back to their men as Maximius bellowed the order for the cohort to advance at quick pace. The column rolled forward with a fast, rumbling rhythm of tramping boots. Glancing to his side Maximius saw the runner Macro had sent him trotting back from the mounted scouts. Beyond him was a small plume of dust swirling round the figure of a man bent low over his horse. As the runner fell into step beside him to wait for orders Maximius glanced round, appraising his condition.
‘You ready to run back to Macro?’
‘Of course, sir,’ the runner replied, his chest heaving as he strained for breath.
The cohort commander lowered his voice.’If he’s still there when you get back to the ford tell him we’re on our way as fast we can go. And, if he’s not there, you come straight back and warn us. Understand?’
‘Not there?’ the runner said softly. ‘Sir, do you mean-’
‘You know what I mean,’ Maximius snapped. ‘Now go!’
The runner saluted and ran off along the track towards the ford. Maximius glanced over his shoulder and saw that the five centuries had all gathered speed and were moving steadily. He filled his lungs and then shouted the order to increase the pace to a slow run. The men had drilled for this many times and could keep it up for an hour at a time. By then they should have reached Macro. If there was time Maximius must let them catch their breath before throwing them into the fight if they were to perform well enough to make a difference.
Towards the rear of the column, Centurion Cato and his men followed the pace set by the century in front. Their equipment jingled and chinked as they ran along the track, accompanied by the
‘Poor sod,’ someone muttered.
‘Silence in the ranks!’ Macro shouted. ‘Silence!’
The awful tension became evermore taut and strained for the legionaries as they waited for the main body of the enemy to arrive, though they did not have to wait long. At first there was the sound of a faint rumbling that grew steadily louder and more distinct. Then a haze thickened over the crest of the hill where the track disappeared from sight. At last the silhouettes of standards, spears, then helmets and the bodies of men came into sight, all along the top of the hill.
Macro’s eyes ran along the vanguard of Caratacus’ army, taking in the sight of thousands of men pouring down the slope towards the ford. Then he turned to the opposite bank and looked for any sign of Maximius and the rest of the cohort. But across the placid surface of the Tamesis all was quite still.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Are you certain Macro said it was the main enemy force?’ ‘A ‘Yes, sir,’ the runner replied.
‘Right, get over to the decurion.’ Maximius pointed out the column of mounted men out to their left flank. ‘Tell him to send word of the enemy column to Vespasian, at once. Go!’
As the runner saluted and made off towards the scouts Maximius summoned his centurions. Immediately they came trotting up along the halted column and he waited until Cato, who had furthest to run, had joined them before he told them the news.
‘Caratacus is making for our ford. He’s got a head start. Look over there.’ The cohort commander pointed to the far side of the river. A faint haze that Cato had not noticed before stretched out low over the far bank of the Tamesis.
‘Where’s Macro?’ asked Tullius.
‘He’s at the ford, preparing his defences.’
‘Defences? He’s going to make a stand?’ Tullius raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Those were the orders given to the cohort.’
‘Yes, but, sir, it’s suicide.’
‘Let’s hope not, since we’re going to join him.’
Antonius and Felix exchanged a look of surprise.
Cato edged forward. ‘We’d better get moving, sir.’
‘Indeed, Cato. All of you, get back to your units. We’ll move at double time. No stopping for stragglers.’
The centurions were running back to their men as Maximius bellowed the order for the cohort to advance at quick pace. The column rolled forward with a fast, rumbling rhythm of tramping boots. Glancing to his side Maximius saw the runner Macro had sent him trotting back from the mounted scouts. Beyond him was a small plume of dust swirling round the figure of a man bent low over his horse. As the runner fell into step beside him to wait for orders Maximius glanced round, appraising his condition.
‘You ready to run back to Macro?’
‘Of course, sir,’ the runner replied, his chest heaving as he strained for breath.
The cohort commander lowered his voice.’If he’s still there when you get back to the ford tell him we’re on our way as fast we can go. And, if he’s not there, you come straight back and warn us. Understand?’
‘Not there?’ the runner said softly. ‘Sir, do you mean-’
‘You know what I mean,’ Maximius snapped. ‘Now go!’
The runner saluted and ran off along the track towards the ford. Maximius glanced over his shoulder and saw that the five centuries had all gathered speed and were moving steadily. He filled his lungs and then shouted the order to increase the pace to a slow run. The men had drilled for this many times and could keep it up for an hour at a time. By then they should have reached Macro. If there was time Maximius must let them catch their breath before throwing them into the fight if they were to perform well enough to make a difference.
Towards the rear of the column, Centurion Cato and his men followed the pace set by the century in front. Their equipment jingled and chinked as they ran along the track, accompanied by the
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