Chapter 6

The Northern Legion would come south to restore order, and we had to mass to defend ourselves. We barely numbered the same as them, and they were professional soldiers. We were going to be massacred. Diplomacy was called for, and for some reason that fell on my shoulders.

We had a stroke of luck, the Romans from around our newly independent area, small garrisons of professionals who were nearing retirement quite often, came together to put down the insurrection. We would be bloodied early. It might not seem a stroke of luck, but if we could win then we would show that Romans were not invincible, and it might spread the flames of rebellion further. Of course, if we lost then we would be crucified by nightfall.

The army, our army, fell naturally into two bands – the locals, and the slaves and gladiators. I was general of the latter. I had little idea how to do this, but I did have two clear ideas. The gladiators were experts at individual fighting. They were not trained – with one or two exceptions of ex-soldiers who had been disgraced and sold into slavery – to fight as groups; but if we could break up the Roman formations then we stood more of a chance. So: split the fighting groups and then send in the killers. What could be a simpler battle plan? We might be helped in this if the different Roman garrisons weren’t yet used to drilling together; but we couldn’t rely on that.

Marcus Glavius put himself at the head of this new legion. They had none of the mechanical marvels that make Romans even more feared – the catapults and long range crossbows that can pin a man to a wall at 1000 paces – often these were the implements that forced an enemy to attack the little human forts that constituted the Roman battle formations (or the lines of interlocking shields, whichever was appropriate for the task). I determined that we would not attack; at least, not straight away.

We selected a ridge to dispose our troops. Below was a shallow valley and then two hills with the road between. Half way down the ridge, before the Romans arrived, I set the men to dig pits and place spikes in the bottom. Then they covered them lightly with wicker and soil and turf. To our left, the local levies massed as a mob, their leaders laughed at us, saying we would fall into our own traps. I explained to Gretorix – the appointed ‘general’ of this band of Celtic warriors – that I intended to make the Romans start advancing up the hill before attacking. If we attacked while they were at the bottom then we would tire ourselves charging down and then lose any advantage of height, we would be fighting on the level. He scoffed at such cowardice (as he saw it), but agreed to hold back his men until the Romans started to advance. This was the first attempt at combined action and already it was clear it would not work well. The Celts had learnt nothing from their comprehensive drubbing at the hands of the Roman war machine. They were still intent on a headlong rush in the hope that the pressure of numbers would break the Romans – it had never worked before, but maybe this time it would, that was the thinking. I have a feeling pigs think the same ‘running around squealing hasn’t stopped my brothers and sisters having their throats cut, but I’ll try it anyway’.

Perhaps, I thought, I should write a book about the art of warfare. I think the first thing is to have respect for your enemies. The only times the Romans have come unstuck (and the usual reason their enemies have) is when they have had no respect for their enemies. I respected them so far as to place a small knife inside my robes – if we lost as we well might, I was not going to be captured alive; Romans are not forgiving and these local garrisons would be even less so.

The day the Romans arrived between the hills was impressive. Even the Celts were impressed. Marcus Glavius had amassed a lot of soldiers. They marched in good order, with a standard at their head. Perhaps we should have ambushed them, I wondered; but there is little benefit in regrets. Stick to the plan, I told myself; even if it may be crap. Change it now and half our men will not know what to do.

Marcus Glavius opted for testudines. I thought he might. Each garrison could form their own small testudo rather than trying to mould them all into a single army of three lines as was often used. This might work for us too, we could reduce each independently. I was sure that they would not be able to reform into lines without much more drilling than they had had time for.

He sent out a flag of truce, a sign that he was less confident than he might be, perhaps. This time I opted to ride and Gretorix and I rode down to meet Marcus Glavius. Since Gretorix’s Latin was not too good, and Marcus Glavius had no Celtic, I was negotiator and translator.

“If you surrender now, we will only punish the leaders ... and you two can go free.” Was Marcus Glavius’s opening gambit. We countered.

“If you lay down your weapons, we shall guarantee you safe passage to the coast?”

“We will line the road from here to Londinium with your crucified remains; do you want that?”