Free Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate by S.J.A. Turney Page A

haze along the side of the elongated column, Priscus peered into the trees, wishing the sky was a little brighter. This dull, leaden-grey half-light played tricks on the eyes with forested terrain. Now that he knew what he was looking for, though, he could see them dotted here and there among the trees. Almost certainly they had archers with them, and the column was within bow range even for a bad marksman, so what were they waiting for?
    His intense concentration was suddenly shattered by the braying of what might charitably be called a musical instrument. The unpleasant, droning cacophony was joined only a moment later by other similar noises being played just enough off-key as to send a shudder along his spine. He had heard the sound of the Gauls' carnyx horns before and, while it was true that the noise put the wind up many of the men, it in equal parts annoyed and amused Priscus. It sounded like a menagerie of distressed animals being physically abused.
    His amusement remained suppressed this time, however. Too much of a coincidence to have a Celtic nobleman - for that was surely what the horn heralded - approaching the column at the same time as the forest to the side filled with apparent attackers. He had been sure there could not be enough men there to pose a threat to the legions. The woods would hamper the attack too much to be any real danger. And yet it had all the hallmarks of an ambush.
    "Carbo!"
    The pink faced centurion, senior in the Tenth, stepped out from the column and strode across to the new legate's horse.
    "Sir?"
    "Pass the word down the line. I want every pilum in the Tenth unshouldered and in hand ready to use."
    "Yes sir." Carbo was peering into the woods. "Treveri, sir?"
    "Probably. It's their hallowed forest. Pass the word."
    As Carbo stepped back into line, Priscus turned to Fabius. "Stay here and keep an eye on the woods. I'm going to see what the fuss is about."
    Fabius nodded and pulled in closer to the column as Priscus kicked his own horse and rode ahead in the wake of Furius. The Tenth formed the first legion in the column, with only the small cavalry contingent between them and the officers of the vanguard. As soon as Priscus moved ahead enough to see past the dust cloud kicked up by the horses, he spotted the source of the impossibly atonal noise. A small group of Gauls, perhaps a score in total - three of them on horseback - were issuing from some unseen trail in the forest on a course to intercept the column.
    Steady, Fabius. This could turn ugly any moment .
    As the small party approached, Caesar gave the order to halt the line, an order that was relayed in a heartbeat by the officers of the various units. As the legions and their cavalry escort came to an ordered stop, Priscus reined in alongside the officers. Furius was sitting close to the general and nodded to his legate.
    "Ah Priscus," Caesar said, turning to him. "You've spotted an ambush I hear?"
    "Perhaps, general. There are a number of men in the forest."
    "Then perhaps this noble comes to offer us an ultimatum? More fool him if he thinks to threaten or bargain."
    The less experienced of the officers in the van laughed dutifully, but Priscus simply squinted ahead, trying to make out the details of the approaching party. It was clearly a nobleman and his escort; his personal bodyguard. Priscus frowned. Why would the man put himself in such direct danger if he had a hidden army just waiting to pounce?
    He continued to puzzle over the problem as the men approached and slowed. The leader was short and stocky, barrel chested and with the arms of a legionary blacksmith. His hair was a copper colour and braided, and his molten-bronze moustaches drooped past his chin, giving him a fatalistic, unhappy look. The ornamentation of his armour and helm and the high quality sword at his side spoke volumes about his rank. Here was a prince among the Gauls. For some reason he looked strangely familiar to Priscus. Caesar was wearing an