to take our battle-mass from the rear. It was red and ancient chaos after that, though the cavalry did their job finely, and the banks and ditches of the camp itself played a useful part in throwing the Caledonian chariots into confusion. Aye, a bad patch, and they all but crumpled up our left wing, and for a while the battle could have gone either way. It was six cohorts of the Ninth, pushed up from the reserve to thicken the battle line, that saved the situation and held it, steady as a rock, while the Fourteenth had a chance to re-form and rally to their own Eagle. The old Ninth has come on evil days since then, but I shan’t forget that, either; the spread wings of our Eagle bright in sunlight, and the Romanbattle-mass staggering and then growing steady again, and thrusting forward.…
The fighting began a little after sun-up; and before the sun stood at noon the Caledonian war-host was a broken rabble, being hunted through their forests and across their heather moors by us victorious Romans. At nightfall the hunt was called off, for it is not good to hunt even a broken enemy through strange country in the dark. And when the moon rose, it shone down – have you ever noticed how coldly uncaring the moon can seem? – on smashed chariots and dead horses, and dead men among the blood-sodden heather.
That was when I saw Calgacus; the only time. I saw him by the cold moonlight, lying at the foot of the slope where the fighting had been heaviest, with the finest of his warriors about him, and his long hair tangled into the roots of a pale flowered bramble bush.
Our losses were officially put at three hundred and sixty, including Valarius, a Centurion of the Ninth, and one young fool of a Tribune who rode right into a rear-guard fight at the edge of the woods. The Caledonians lost thousands; more than half their war-host, besides those that were taken captive.
Calgacus had staked everything, the whole fighting strength of Caledonia, on that last battle; and when it was over the war in Caledonia was over too.
Three days later the Senior Centurion sent for me to his tent. He was rubbing his chin with a piece of pumice when I went in. – He was one of the few soldiers I have known who always contrived to keep a smooth chin even on campaign. – And he laid down the pumice and felt his jaw enquiringly for traces of a beard.
‘I am promoting Centurion Gaurus to Centurion Valarius’s place. You will take over Gaurus’s century,’ he said. Just like that!
‘Sir,’ I said. I felt a bit winded. And yet truth to tell, I wasn’t altogether surprised. Somebody was due for promotion, with Valarius having got himself killed, and I knew I’d done well in the battle. I suppose I puffed my chest out a bit.
And suddenly he laughed, ‘And you can take that smirk off your face. You carried out your duties extremely well when the Painted Men nearly crumpled up our left wing; in fact one might say with courage and devotion; but Roma Dea! What else do you think the Legions expect of their standard-bearers? That business about the Eagle and the egg, now, I’m not at all sureit wasn’t disrespect to the Gods, but it ended a very nasty situation, and showed that you have the trick of handling men. Go and take over from Gaurus. – Oh, wait—’ and he picked up a roughly trimmed hazel stick, – we’d hacked down a bit of hazel and thorn scrub when we were clearing the ground for the camp – and tossed it to me. ‘This will serve you for your vine-staff until we get back to Eburacum and it can be changed for the proper thing. Your promotion will have to be confirmed then, too, but I think you need not worry about that. Lucius will take over from you as Eagle-bearer.’
And he picked up his bit of pumice again and got back to work on his chin.
CHAPTER SIX
Return to Eburacum
It was late into the autumn when the Ninth came marching back into Eburacum, and the crowds gathered to watch us in as they had gathered to watch us
The fighting began a little after sun-up; and before the sun stood at noon the Caledonian war-host was a broken rabble, being hunted through their forests and across their heather moors by us victorious Romans. At nightfall the hunt was called off, for it is not good to hunt even a broken enemy through strange country in the dark. And when the moon rose, it shone down – have you ever noticed how coldly uncaring the moon can seem? – on smashed chariots and dead horses, and dead men among the blood-sodden heather.
That was when I saw Calgacus; the only time. I saw him by the cold moonlight, lying at the foot of the slope where the fighting had been heaviest, with the finest of his warriors about him, and his long hair tangled into the roots of a pale flowered bramble bush.
Our losses were officially put at three hundred and sixty, including Valarius, a Centurion of the Ninth, and one young fool of a Tribune who rode right into a rear-guard fight at the edge of the woods. The Caledonians lost thousands; more than half their war-host, besides those that were taken captive.
Calgacus had staked everything, the whole fighting strength of Caledonia, on that last battle; and when it was over the war in Caledonia was over too.
Three days later the Senior Centurion sent for me to his tent. He was rubbing his chin with a piece of pumice when I went in. – He was one of the few soldiers I have known who always contrived to keep a smooth chin even on campaign. – And he laid down the pumice and felt his jaw enquiringly for traces of a beard.
‘I am promoting Centurion Gaurus to Centurion Valarius’s place. You will take over Gaurus’s century,’ he said. Just like that!
‘Sir,’ I said. I felt a bit winded. And yet truth to tell, I wasn’t altogether surprised. Somebody was due for promotion, with Valarius having got himself killed, and I knew I’d done well in the battle. I suppose I puffed my chest out a bit.
And suddenly he laughed, ‘And you can take that smirk off your face. You carried out your duties extremely well when the Painted Men nearly crumpled up our left wing; in fact one might say with courage and devotion; but Roma Dea! What else do you think the Legions expect of their standard-bearers? That business about the Eagle and the egg, now, I’m not at all sureit wasn’t disrespect to the Gods, but it ended a very nasty situation, and showed that you have the trick of handling men. Go and take over from Gaurus. – Oh, wait—’ and he picked up a roughly trimmed hazel stick, – we’d hacked down a bit of hazel and thorn scrub when we were clearing the ground for the camp – and tossed it to me. ‘This will serve you for your vine-staff until we get back to Eburacum and it can be changed for the proper thing. Your promotion will have to be confirmed then, too, but I think you need not worry about that. Lucius will take over from you as Eagle-bearer.’
And he picked up his bit of pumice again and got back to work on his chin.
CHAPTER SIX
Return to Eburacum
It was late into the autumn when the Ninth came marching back into Eburacum, and the crowds gathered to watch us in as they had gathered to watch us
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