Over the heads of the men fighting he could see Caratacus and his escort, urging their warriors on. For a brief instant Cato sensed that the enemy commander was looking straight at him, still as resolutely determined to obliterate every last man of the garrison of Bruccium and every other Roman who stood in his path. Then Caratacus spurred his horse and moved to another section of his army and dismounted to wade into the fight.

Tribune Mancinus approached and stood at his side to watch the progress of the uneven struggle raging about them.

‘What do you want the draught animals for?’ Mancinus asked.

‘If you’ve read your Livy, then you should be able to guess.’

‘Livy?’ Mancinus shrugged. ‘Not on my syllabus, I regret to say, sir.’

‘Too bad. He has his uses.’ Cato saw that the animals and the Thracians were in position and the last of the three wagons had been turned about and was ready to move off. ‘We’re ready, Tribune. When I give the word the animals will cause something of a diversion. My cavalry will follow them up and try to open the way for the column. Get your men moving at once. Keep ’em closed up and their shields presented to the enemy. If you can save the wounded, do so. But if they fall out of line and can’t be rescued, leave them. Is that clear?’

‘Clear, but hard to stomach, sir.’

‘That’s too bad. We can’t afford to slow the column down for anything. Not if there’s going to be any chance of saving some of the men at least.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Good. Then let’s be about our business.’ Cato clicked his tongue and steered Hannibal past the abandoned wagons to the front of the tightly packed ranks of the Thracians. He saw the optio overseeing the tying of the last feed bags to the nervous mules and oxen herded together behind the line of auxiliaries holding the rear of the perimeter.

‘Optio, you have your tinderbox with you?’

The man patted the leather pouch hanging from a strap across his shoulder. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then get a flame going at once. Soon as you have, get your men to light some twists of straw and set the feed bags alight.’

The optio raised his eyebrows in surprise but nodded obediently and got to work. Cato made his way towards the centurion in command of the rearguard.

‘What’s your unit, Centurion?’

The officer, tough-looking and swarthy, saluted. ‘Fourth Hispanic Cohort, sir.’

‘And you?’

‘Centurion Fernandus, sir.’

‘When I give the word, I want your men to draw aside to let the animals pass. They’ll need to move quickly if they want to avoid being trampled.’

‘Yes, sir.’