The wind, I noted, was still in about the right position for what I had in mind, leaving us upwind of the bridge and the front ranks of the enemy. I glanced at the sun, which was low; the late-October dusk was fast approaching, we might just have time… On cue, the first riders trotted in from the coast, with sacks slung across their saddle bows, sacks whose contents they also began distributing among the heavy cavalry. Constantine, too, was glancing at the setting sun, then nervously eyeing our left flank, which was slowly giving way under the irresistible pressure of Maxentius’ greater weight of forces. Only a desperate barrage from the slingers and archers was slowing the oncoming tide of the legions. “They’ll not hold much longer, and I can’t afford to send reinforcements without risking collapse in the centre,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have to hold these fellows,” pointing, “to throw in at the centre as we need them. I want a steady retreat of our centre to envelope Maxentius between our horns.
