Centurion

'I don't like the look of it,' Parmenion said softly.

'Me neither.'

The ground began to even out and as Cato reached the crest he strode forward and stopped as he saw the vista of fires spread across the desert before him. Parmenion came up to his side and whispered, 'Bloody hell. What is that?'

'That,' Cato responded steadily, 'is the army of Artaxes, and his Parthian allies. They reached him before we did. Seems like the general's spies lied to him.'

'What in Hades happens now?'

'We continue the attack.' Cato started forward again.'We have to. That's the only chance we have. Catch them all by surprise before they have a chance to react.'

The rest of the Roman line had crested the ridge and advanced far enough to see the enemy camp spread out before them, just over half a mile ahead. The general had been right, Cato conceded. Against the odds he had succeeded in catching the enemy unawares. He had misjudged Longinus.

A horn blasted a short series of notes across the top of the hill. More joined in and repeated the signal. Parmenion stopped and stared at Cato. 'What is he doing? What is the bloody fool doing?'

Cato shook his head, stu

'The general's lost his nerve,' Parmenion muttered. 'When he saw that lot down there.' He was silent for a moment before he continued.'The gods help us.'

'You'd better pray that they do,' Cato muttered. 'Because we've just lost the initiative. Look.'

Down below the first shrill cries of alarm began to sound. A moment later the beat of a drum carried up the slope and by the light of the campfires Cato could see thousands and thousands of men rising up from their sleep and scrambling for their weapons and their horses.

08 Centurion

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Roman army stood and watched as the enemy began to mass. Artaxes and his rebels, most of whom were infantry, were forming a thin line in front of the camp. But they were an insignificant danger. Far more worrying to Cato were the groups of Parthian horse-archers and cataphracts already begi

'What is he doing?' Centurion Parmenion pounded his fist against his thigh as he stared to his right, towards the centre of the line where General Longinus and his staff were positioned. 'Why doesn't he give the order to attack before it's too bloody late?'

Cato cleared his throat and stepped towards his subordinate. 'Centurion Parmenion.'

'Sir?'

'I'd be obliged if you kept your mouth shut.Think about the men. As far as they are concerned this is part of the plan. Understand? Now show them some reserve. You're a veteran, man. So act like one.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato watched him for a moment, until he was sure that Parmenion understood, then he nodded. 'Carry on, Parmenion.'

'Yes, sir.'

Over towards the eastern horizon a thin strip of lighter sky heralded the coming dawn and moment by moment Cato could see more detail in the surrounding landscape. Still there was no order to advance. Then, at last, a staff officer, one of the junior tribunes, came riding along the line, pausing to give orders to each commander in turn. Cato strode up to meet him as the officer reached the Second Illyrian. The tribune saluted.

'General's compliments, sir,' he said breathlessly. 'He says we will await the enemy attack here on the high ground. He will give the order to advance the moment we have broken them up. In the meantime, you are to guard the flank. If there's any attempt to cut behind our line it will be up to you and the Palmyran prince to hold them off.'

'Very well.' Cato nodded. 'We'll do our duty.'

'Yes, sir.'

They exchanged a salute and the tribune wheeled his mount round and galloped back towards the general. Cato turned to Parmenion.

'You heard that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then we know what to expect. We need to cover the flank,' Cato decided. 'Pull the men in and form a line away from the crest at the end of Macro's cohort. Send a man to Balthus. His men are to form up behind us and be ready to shoot up any Parthians that attack the left of the line.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then let's get moving! We're not being paid by the day.'

Once the Second Illyrian had taken up their new formation Cato's command position was only a short distance from Macro's and he strode across to speak to his friend. As Cato approached, Macro shook his head with a weary expression. 'Longinus has screwed it up beautifully.' He motioned to the new crest adorning his helmet. 'Paid some bastard in the second cohort five denarii for this. A fine waste of money now that we're about to provide the Parthians with some target practice.'

'Looks that way,' Cato agreed. 'And the general seems to have it in his head that they're going to charge us.'

'He'll know the score soon enough.'

'And then?' Cato lowered his voice so that only Macro would hear him. 'What do you think he'll do?'

'What can he do? We've got bugger all cavalry to pin the enemy in place while the legions close on them. My guess is that Longinus will order a retreat the moment our men start hitting the ground.'

'I agree. It'll be difficult to pull off without heavy losses.'

Macro sighed. 'Well, he wanted his battle. Now he's got it. The trick of it will be living to tell the tale.'

'Yes.' Cato glanced up at the sky. 'It's getting lighter. I'd better get back to my men. Good luck, sir.'

'And you, Cato.' They clasped arms and Cato turned and strode back towards the standard of the Second Illyrian.

As the light strengthened the Parthians began their attack. There was no wild charge of the kind the legions had faced before on other battlefields. Small groups of Parthian horse-archers trotted their mounts up the slope and began to loose arrows at the dense ranks of Roman soldiers. The power of their bows was such that some could shoot almost straight at their targets, while others aimed high so that their arrows arced into the sky before plummeting down. Receiving missiles from two different directions immediately upset and confused the solid ranks of infantry. As the first men were struck down the centurions hurriedly ordered the front two ranks to raise a shield wall while the rear ranks raised their shields overhead. While it offered a solution to the enemy's method of attack it was tiring work and could not be continued for long by the men in the rear ranks.

As soon as the Parthians realised that their arrows had ceased having much effect on the front of the Roman line they began to shift their effort to the flanks.

'Here they come!' an auxiliary near the crest shouted.

'Down!' Cato ordered. 'Behind your shields!'

The men dropped to one knee and lowered their helmets until they could just see over the rims of their shields. Cato turned to Balthus and his men and cupped a hand to his mouth.

'Get ready to shoot!'

Balthus nodded and bellowed an order to his small force and they rapidly strung their bows and fitted arrows as the sound of drumming hooves swelled in volume. Then Cato saw them, perhaps fifty of the enemy, riding over the crest a short distance from the Roman flank. The foremost riders tried to rein back as they caught sight of Cato's flank guard, but those behind pressed on, trying to weave a path through their comrades and causing a moment's confusion and loss of impetus. Balthus seized the chance to hit the tightly packed and immobile target and shouted the order to his men. The arrows arced high over the Roman lines and fell, like a fine veil, amongst the Parthians. The effect was impressive, Cato noted. Unlike the Roman soldiers, the horse-archers had no armour and no shields, and the arrows tore through their robes and punched through skin, muscle and bone. Several men pitched from their saddles, and wounded horses reared up with shrill whi