Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (22 page)

He smiled at
the officers as they steered the mounts with their knees and
readied for another charge.

“
They’re ready to break. A dozen or so followed you last time.
But I don’t want them following right across the field. Same drill
again, but this time, when you’ve released the volley, retreat
fifty yards, form up for action and draw swords.”

The officers
saluted and relayed the orders to their men.

With the
fourth charge, Lucilius accompanied the cavalry once more. The
charge reached the churned mud, the horses whinnied to a halt, the
javelins arced out, and the Belgae, with a deafening roar, broke
their line and ran forward waving spears, swords and axes. As
ordered, the cavalry pulled out of reach and formed up to await the
onslaught.

Clearly, the
barbarian warriors had broken the orders of their chieftains. The
boar-head standards and horns and the shining golden helmets of the
few visible noblemen remained tightly in position. But hundreds had
been unable to contain their rage any longer and had run
forwards.

As they ran,
screaming, Lucilius watched with great interest, bordering on
mirth. The warriors reached the churned mire left by the hooves of
the Roman cavalry and many slid, tripped or fell. As they climbed
to their feet, they were forced to move slowly and painfully
through the thick, sucking mud, hauling their feet out and then
sinking them back with a squelch. The entire bloodthirsty attack
had slowed to an embarrassing plod.

“
Take them.”

The men to
either side walked their horses forward and began to swing with
their longer cavalry blades, arcing like bloody scythes left and
right, maiming and killed the desperate Belgae wherever they found
them. It was a massacre, plain and simple; a harvest of living
bodies.

Lucilius
watched as the barbarian attack dissolved into simple butchery.
Within a couple of minutes the only Belgae who were left standing
were the lucky few at the rear of the attack who were now fleeing
the field back to their own line as quickly as the mud allowed. A
few of the more eager troopers were advancing to take the
stragglers.

“
Call for regroup!” Lucilius shouted.

The cornu rang
out a moment later and the troopers wheeled their horses and
returned to their alae. With a satisfied smile, Lucilius calculated
the numbers. He could assume at least a hundred dead from each of
the four javelin volleys, and at least a couple of hundred more
here in the mud. Six hundred Belgae dead at a very conservative
estimate.

He laughed out
loud as he surveyed the muddy mess.

For eight
Romans. Now that was going to please the general. Mars be praised,
it certainly please Lucilius.

“
Sound the withdrawal. There won’t be any more barbarian pushes
for a while now. Time to head back to camp and report.”

A decurion
nearby laughed.

“
And maybe we can resupply with javelins and have another
go!”

As the cavalry
reached the top of the slope, Lucilius smiled in surprise and
saluted. Varus returned the gesture and eyed the returning cavalry
with a raised eyebrow.

“
Had fun, Lucilius? Looks like you hardly got
dirty?”

“
We’ve given them a fairly bloody lip, sir. I’ll tell you all
about it on the way back.”

Varus nodded
as the two cavalry forces fell into formation together and began
the trek back to Caesar’s camp.

It was hours
later when the third cavalry group finally came into sight of the
main gate. Varus leaned over the parapet where he’d been waiting
anxiously for word of his men and waved at the lieutenant.

“
What did you find?” he asked, eyeing with interest the tired
but apparently undamaged cavalry force as they slowed to a
walk.

“
Nothing, sir” the prefect reported, sighing. “We’ve been miles
and miles and miles. No sign of anything. Just in case, I sent one
ala off with orders to do a sweep over a ten mile radius beyond
where we were, but if there’s more Belgae coming, they’re at least
a day away.”

“
Did you have a more exciting time, sir?”

Varus
laughed.

“
It’s been a good day. We’ve dented the Belgae and confirmed
we’re safe from reinforcements as yet. Get yourselves into camp and
rest. I need to inform the general.”

Chapter 8

(Caesar’s camp
by the Aisne River.)

“
Lilia (Lit. ‘Lilies’): defensive pits three feet deep with a
sharpened stake at the bottom, disguised with undergrowth, to
hamper attackers.”

Fronto
grumbled under his breath and leaned forward over the table, fixing
Caesar with a steady gaze. As so often happened, the other officers
in the room had melted into the background, trying to blend in with
the tent leather in an attempt not to become involved in the
argument.

“
But it’s a waste to play a defensive action now. We need to
press the advantage we have!”

The general
glowered at his senior legate. His brow had furrowed and he had
become quite pale; a sign that he was deeply angry and reaching the
end of his tether.

“
We don’t have an advantage, Fronto. They outnumber us about
five to one. Only an idiot charges into those odds!”

The legate’s
rumble rose to a steady growl and he barked back at his
commander.

“
It’s five to one now! Wait until you’ve faffed for a while
building walls and shuffling the legions around and you could find
it’s ten to one. The advantage I’m talking about is that is not
more than five to one! We should strike while the iron’s
lukewarm!”

Caesar’s
eyelid flickered alarmingly. Tetricus, standing behind Fronto,
could see the warning signs in the general’s demeanour, though
Fronto apparently either couldn’t tell or didn’t care. Either way,
this had to stop. Tetricus stepped forward to intervene, but the
two arguing commanders ignored him.

“
Fronto, I put up with your astounding insolence because you
really are one of the best legionary commanders Rome has to offer,
but I’m rapidly reaching breaking point with you. There will come a
time when you are more trouble than you’re worth.” He snarled.
“Pray it’s not today!”

“
You…” Fronto drew a deep breath, ready to launch into a
tirade. Tetricus reached out and grasped his shoulder, hauling him
to the side and defusing the building stress in the man by slapping
him so hard on the back he was momentarily winded.

“
Caesar,” the young tribune said calmly. “I believe we can put
together very adequate defences in a few hours. I propose a
compromise. Fronto may well be correct in his estimate that the
Belgae will only get stronger, but I also see the wisdom in being
as prepared as possible.”

He glanced
sideways at Fronto, who was staring angrily at him.

“
All we need is something we can fall back into if we run into
serious trouble. Instead of fully enclosing stockades and gates,
towers and so on, which would take more than a day, I propose
this:”

He leaned on
the table where Fronto had previously been and drew an imaginary
map of the terrain with his finger.

“
We’re sort of on a loop in the river here. In front of us is a
nice flat area where we can marshal the troops. All we need is one
good defence across it… say a nice deep and wide trench with just
two or three causeways crossing it. Might even put some lilia in
place.”

Caesar shook
his head.

“
That’s not enough. If the Belgae come in force, they’ll just
swarm over it. I will not allow my army to be destroyed in detail
after all I’ve achieved.”

Tetricus
shrugged.

“
Once the ditch is there, and I think we can have a nice deep
ditch that crosses the flat ground from riverbank to riverbank in
about five hours, we can look at raising a palisade perhaps. More
than that, if we install a small fort at each end of the ditch, we
can have a nice crossfire of missiles in the middle.”

Balbus stepped
forward from the shadows around the edge of the tent.

“
He’s right, general. If we put our artillery in emplacements
at either end there won’t be an inch of flat land that’s out of
range of a shot. Once that’s done, we can look at the possibility
of marching on the Belgae, but we know we’ll have a good safe line
to fall back to.”

Caesar rubbed
his eyes and pinched the bridge of his impressive nose.

“
Alright. I will concede to a reduction in the planned
defences, but I have no intention in engaging in combat until we
are clear that the advantage is ours and there is no viable
alternative.”

He turned to
Tetricus.

“
You seem to be full of ideas, tribune. Gather your engineers
and get to work.”

As Tetricus
saluted and made for the exit, the general regarded his
legates.

“
I want every spare man working on this to get the defences as
tight as possible and as fast as possible. While that’s happening,
have your artillery from each legion taken to the left and right of
the proposed site, so that they’re ready to move into place as soon
as the platforms are ready.”

He gestured at
the door and the officers saluted, nodded and filed out.

“
And the cavalry, Caesar?”

The general
looked up to see Varus hovering in the doorway.

“
Form your men on the plain in front of the works. The entire
infantry is going to be occupied with the construction, so the
cavalry are the main defence against any sudden
assault.”

Varus nodded
professionally, though Fronto noted the brief flash of disapproval
on the man’s face.

The general
turned to the only figure remaining in his headquarters tent.

“
And you? Just get out of my sight!”

Fronto saluted
half-heartedly and muttered under his breath “gladly!”

As he allowed
the tent flap to drop back into position, he breathed deeply of the
air outside the headquarters and then strode across the grass to
where Labienus and three other members of the senior staff stood in
deep conversation.

Fronto
wandered up and stood next to Labienus.

“
Maybe we should just go attack them anyway.”

Labienus
raised his eyes to the sky.

“
Fronto, your mouth is going to open too wide and swallow the
rest of your head one day. I swear it must already have swallowed
your brain. Crassus can get away with talking to Caesar like that,
because he’s richer and his daddy is so important.”

He gestured up
and down at Fronto.

“
But you? Your command is all you really have. Don’t mess it
up.”

There was a
chorus of nods from the others and Labienus laughed weakly.

“
I, for one, don’t relish the thought of fighting the rest of
this campaign without your help.”

Fronto kicked
at the turf.

“
We need to persuade Caesar to attack; we can’t wait until
every barbarian north of the Alps is gathered together against us.
He’s too worried about how this all looks at home and not worried
enough about what might happen right here.”

Labienus
shrugged.

“
Problem is, even if we could persuade him to attack, the
ground around here is just not good for a battle. I couldn’t even
begin to decide how to go about it.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
I know. Can’t just take an assault to them because of the
marsh. Not enough room either side of the marsh to take seven
legions without stringing them all out and making it simple for the
Belgae. Can’t lure them onto the plain in front of the fort, cos
they’ll not come. They’re just waiting and growing in numbers. The
only option would be to actually decamp and move to see if we can
find somewhere that’s less defensive.”

He
frowned.

“
Why did Caesar choose somewhere like this? There was never any
hope of conducting a proper battle here. It’s a place just made for
defence.”

Labienus
shrugged.

“
Maybe Caesar never intended to fight here?”

Fronto slapped
his head in irritation.

“
That’s it. Should have realised the old bastard had something
up his sleeve.”

He realised
the others were looking at him in expectation.

“
He’s waiting for something. He’s not bothered about the
growing strength of the Belgae. Only an idiot would wait while they
got stronger… unless he’s waiting for something more important, and
whatever it is must be important enough that he thinks it’ll make
this battle either easy or unnecessary.”

With a smiled,
he patted Labienus on the shoulder.

“
I’m going to find out what it is.”

The senior
staff officer grasped Fronto by the shoulder.

“
Be careful and deferential. If you go blundering in there with
accusations and demands you’re going to find yourself shipped off
back to Rome by the end of the day.”

Fronto
smiled.

“
I wouldn’t go. You all need me too much.”

Labienus
raised his eyes skywards again as the legate turned and strode back
towards Caesar’s tent. Without knocking or calling out, he lifted
the flap and entered. The general was still sitting behind his
desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as though suffering from a
powerful headache. Caesar looked up at the sudden intrusion.