Before long the enemy column changed course, moving obliquely away from Calleva and straight towards the Romans. Vespasian’s small force crested a low ridge and marched out of sight of the Atrebatan capital. The sun rose and climbed steadily into a clear sky, and not a breath of wind disturbed the air so that the deafening crunch of army boots and the squeaking creak of the wagons’ wheels filled the men’s ears. Dust was thrown up by the leading cohort and it left grit in the mouths of the men further down the column. By late morning the sun was shining brightly and sweat poured off the men marching without respite, since any stop would close the gap between them and their pursuers.

So it was that at noon, the head of the column was approaching a narrow vale that curved round a small bare hillock. At the head of the column rode Vespasian and Tribune Quintillus, eschewing the normal practice of riding behind the vanguard. The legate was keen to reunite his forces as speedily as possible and did not want to waste any time having the lay of the land ahead relayed to him.

‘We’re making good time,’ Quintillus was saying conversationally.

‘Yes . . . good time,’ the legate replied, then he straightened his back and stared ahead.

‘What is it, sir?’

Vespasian did not answer, but urged his mount into a trot along the track as he craned his neck to see more. A few moments later he had a clear view round the hillock. Half a mile ahead of the column a dense mass of chariots and cavalry lay across their path.

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Caratacus had sent his light forces on ahead, even though he knew that they could not defeat the Romans by themselves. But then again they didn’t have to, Vespasian smiled bitterly. They just had to delay the legionaries long enough for Caratacus and his heavy infantry to arrive and pile into the rear of the Roman column. If the legate moved quickly, he could form his men into a dense wedge and force his way through the enemy blocking the way ahead. But such formations had never been designed for speed and the natives would simply fall back before the wedge and harry the Romans until their comrades could catch up and throw their weight decisively into the fight.

‘Sir?’ Quintillus was looking at him expectantly. ‘Shall I give the order to turn the column round?’

‘No. Caratacus will have moved between us and Calleva by now.’

‘Well . . . what shall we do?’ Quintillus stared at the enemy waiting ahead of them. ‘Sir?’

Vespasian ignored the tribune as he wheeled his horse round and raised his arm. ‘Halt!’