Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (27 page)

The legionary
saluted and ran off up toward the auxiliary prefect where he worked
at the stockade. Fronto watched him go, impressed. Caesar had
underestimated these non-citizen legionaries. Glancing down at the
scene below, he realised that Sabinus had pulled much of his force
away from the rear wall by the river to bolster the beleaguered men
at the other three walls. As he scanned the shoreline, frowning, he
turned to the auxiliary archers and their commander nearby.

“
Decius!”

The prefect
looked back up from where he was pointing out targets to his
men.

“
Sir?”

“
Sabinus’ rear wall is unprotected and there are a few Belgae
trying to get round on the river bank. Discourage them, will you?
And shortly we’ll be trying something there, so have your men
concentrate on keeping that rear wall completely clear of
barbarians.”

Decius nodded
and smiled, turning back to his men. There were small groups of
Belgae making their way along the bank toward the badly-defended
riverside ramparts. Moments later, as Fronto watched, arrows began
to find their targets and barbarians toppled into the water with a
splash. The current down by the bridge began to take on a pinkish
hue.

Without
waiting any longer, he ran once more down to the men of the legions
below.

“
Plancus!” he bellowed. The young legate turned from his
position by the bank.

“
Change of plan. Get your men to the river opposite the
fort.”

Without
waiting for acknowledgement or reply, he ran across to the soldiers
at the near end of the bridge.

“
Whichever cohort’s near me, get up that hill and join in.
They’ll tell you what to do. Now go!”

The signifers
and centurions pushed their way through the mass and started to run
up the hill, the legionaries following their standards. Fronto took
a deep breath and ran across to the ground opposite the fort.
Briefly, and nervously, he looked back up the hill at the archers
firing their arrows overhead, but the missiles were coming down
with deadly accuracy on the opposite bank and picking off the last
barbarians brave enough to try the difficult approach.

He watched
with unease for several minutes, tapping his fingers nervously on
his scabbard and then, turning, squinted past the ranks of archers
to check the activity at the top of the slope. Once again, he was
impressed with the quality of these men. Already the three sections
of palisade were unearthed and being gently moved down the slope.
Even as he watched, the archers parted to allow the engineers and
legionaries through with their makeshift bridges. Gods, they were
fast.

“
Hold on, Sabinus. We’re coming…”

* * * * *

Ten minutes
later, Fronto was still standing on the north bank, twitching at
the urgency of their mission. He watched with growing tension as
the legionary engineer, whose name he had discovered was Biorix,
tied off the last rope securing the far end. Now all three bridges
were attached to the opposite bank. Tapping his foot impatiently,
he watched the engineers carefully hauling the bridge ropes as
tight as possible and then tying them to the stakes that had been
hammered into the ground here. Opposite, three large holes had been
broken in the fort’s riverside rampart.

He clucked his
tongue irritably and was about to shout something when he saw
Biorix waving at him. With a sigh of relief, he turned to the
legion assembled behind him.

“
Get across. Twenty men to each crossing at a time for
now!”

The
legionaries stormed onto the makeshift bridges and Fronto watched
with sudden alarm as the wooden walkway dipped and disappeared
below the water. However, it took but a moment for him to realise
they had only sunk a little under the weight of the men. The
soldiers, nervous though they were, crossed in water only ankle
deep. As the first men reached the far side and ran into the fort,
a familiar figure in burnished armour and with a red plume appeared
in one of the gateways. Sabinus was directing the new arrivals to
plug the worst gaps in his defences.

With a sigh of
relief, Fronto turned to Plancus.

“
Looks good. I’m going across. I think we can just settle now
into getting one century across at a time.”

The young
legate nodded, staring with clear nerves at the submerged and
shuddering bridge. Ignoring him, Fronto joined the next group of
men to cross. Splashing along the thirty yards, he grinned as he
climbed up the embankment and Sabinus slapped him on the
shoulder.

“
Thought you’d never get here, Marcus!”

Fronto
breathed deeply.

“
We nearly didn’t. Clever engineers, eh?” He gestured back
across the river.

“
Indeed. What’s your plan?”

Fronto
blinked. He hadn’t got as far as a plan. Just getting here had been
his plan.

“
Well Caesar’s on his way with the other legions. We need to
drive a wedge between the Belgae and the river, so that the
Thirteenth can form a bridgehead and secure the bank. Once that’s
done, we can marshal the men and begin to actually do the job. You
need to get runners out around the Belgae somehow to pass
instructions to Varus, and others back across to the missile
troops. If Varus can start trying to help thin them out towards the
bridge and the prefects above can concentrate their fire on the
area where the Belgae are thickest, we can divide the men between
maintaining the defences here and joining up along the bank with
the Thirteenth at the bridge.”

Sabinus
laughed.

“
Oh… nothing simple, then?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
We’re still up against enormous odds, but now we can actually
start to bring tactics into play.

Sabinus
nodded. “I’ll get the messengers out and get back to the walls. You
concentrate on things by the river, yes?”

Fronto nodded.
As the next group of men crossed the bridge, he called them over.
Their centurion stepped to the front.

“
I need you to head along there between the wall and the river
and when you get to the end start to push out into the Belgae.
Don’t try and engage properly. I just want a shield wall that moves
slowly outwards. Reserves will be coming up to support you. We’re
going to keep pushing them back until we control the whole bank and
meet up with the Thirteenth at the bridge, alright?”

The centurion
saluted and nodded. Without a word, he and his men picked their way
along the difficult terrain towards the open ground on the river
bank. Fronto watched them go and then turned his attention back to
the bridge. The next century had just arrived. The legate pointed
into the fort.

“
To the walls!”

The men
saluted and ran off into the fort. Fronto turned back to the bridge
and smiled. Plancus was coming across with the next group, stepping
lightly as a dancer, as though there were sea monsters beneath the
surface. As the young man, visibly relieved, arrived on the bank,
Fronto clasped hands with him.

“
Plancus… can you take over here if I join in the action? I’m
sending alternate units into the fort or along to the
bridgehead.”

The young man
nodded, letting out a deep breath. With a quick glance at him,
Fronto gestured to the centurion who had just crossed.

“
You men are with me!”

Without
waiting for a reply, he started to make his way speedily along the
river bank. Ahead, he could see the legionaries fighting
desperately at the edge of the river. As he ran he saw with dismay
one of the men slip in the midst of combat and drop into the river
like a stone. Weighed down with chainmail and helmet, there was no
hope for the man. Fronto gritted his teeth as he saw how hard the
men were fighting for such little ground. He and his reserves
finally reached the rear of the century of men, now already
whittled down to a third of their number.

“
Push!” he yelled, and threw himself in among the soldiers,
clearly greatly to the surprise of the Gaulish legionaries. The
reserves joined the line and the extra weight began to press back
the Belgic warriors. With grim satisfaction, as they slowly heaved
the line forward, Fronto noted how the victorious faces of the
barbarians slipped to uncertainty as they found themselves being
pushed backwards into the press of their own men. Fronto grinned.
An idea was forming, but he’d have to be fast. These bastards were
vicious. The Roman numbers in the push had almost halved again
already. He leaned across to his right and barked hurried
instructions at the centurion nearby. Behind them, another century
of men joined the fight.

“
Push them back!” he bellowed to the Roman force in general. He
was almost at the front now. Almost close enough to reach one of
the hairy bastards with his gladius.

Spotting the
centurion that had accompanied him into the fray, he quickly leaned
across and repeated his instructions. The man nodded and began to
move off to the left. Fronto waited a full minute for his
instructions to have been disseminated among the men present,
during which another century joined the rear. Their ranks were now
growing faster than they were being whittled down and they were
forcing the Belgae back, but the push was getting ever harder,
since the barbarians were being heaved into the press of their
fellows.

“
Now!” he cried.

Simultaneously, two thirds of his force changed direction and
pushed off to the left, in line with the fort’s western wall, while
the other third pulled back from where they had been pushing along
the riverbank. The whole Roman front line swung like a gate, back
along the shore to the fort wall. The sudden push deep in their
lines and the opening space next to the river caused a natural
momentum unfortunate for the Belgae. Unable to hold their ground,
pushed back by the inland advance and their own great press, a
large number of the Belgae found themselves pushed out of the
force, into the open space and then beyond, where the shoving
carried them straight on, over the bank and into the fast current
of the river.

A cheer went
up on the bridge several hundred yards downstream as over a hundred
Belgae washed past beneath them, screaming as they were carried
away from the field. The few wealthier barbarians who wore the
heavy armour and helmets of the Celtic noblemen, splashed briefly
before disappearing without trace.

“
Reform!” Fronto called.

As suddenly as
they had changed direction before, the Roman left pulled back and
the right pushed out once again to their original solid line. Now,
the diminished force of Belgae by the river gave Fronto’s force
sufficient room to begin pushing in earnest. Laughing like a
maniac, Fronto launched into the front line, hacking and stabbing
with his sword, lost in the simplicity of combat where complicated
thought could be replaced by instinct.

Bolstered by a
continual supply of legionaries from the rear, Fronto’s force
continued to expand the line in an arc, pushing the Belgae back.
Stepping back from the action for a moment, Fronto smiled with
satisfaction. They had now fought their way almost half way along
the fort’s wall, allowing Sabinus to redeploy a number of his men
from that side. As he watched, the nearest gate opened, just behind
his advancing line, and more reserves poured from the fort. The
press of Belgae in the narrowing area of riverbank they controlled
were now shouting desperately. As their concentration had been
drawn toward Fronto’s vicious assault, Balbus had taken the
advantage of their lack of attention and finally broken away from
the bridge, the Thirteenth pouring into the field and forming an
arc like Fronto’s, pushing the barbarians further back from the
river.

As the minutes
passed, Fronto grinned. The advancing forces from the bridge and
the makeshift crossing were close now, the Belgae pushed back to
the flat land on the other side of the fort. With a deep breath, he
once more threw himself into the front line, shouting encouragement
at the legionaries to either side. A roar went up and the advance
redoubled in effort, Belgae now trying to turn and flee among their
own ranks.

‘
Lucky’, Fronto thought to himself. For all the Romans had
finally gained the riverbank and forced the Belgae back, they were
still outnumbered by at least five to one. The Belgae had descended
into chaos. Had they the discipline of the Roman army, they would
right now be driving Fronto back into the water, instead of trying
to get out of the way. The number of casualties Fronto’s advance
had suffered spoke volumes about how dangerous a foe these
barbarians could be when they had the bit between their
teeth.

He clenched
his teeth and offered a small prayer to Nemesis that the bastards
kept on running.

Another cheer
went up and the forces of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth legions
finally met on the bank, joining forces and turning the two
expanding arcs into one great, solid line advancing over the grass
on the disordered Belgae. Professionalism took over among the
centurions and the desperately pushing line quickly reformed into a
traditional legionary shield wall, supported by second, third and
fourth lines, with more reserves falling into place and rapidly
forming a fifth.

This was
starting to look like a proper battle now, rather than a mad
advance, though only because the enemy were already trying to leave
the field. A voice nearby called out his name and he turned to see
Balbus, grinning, his forehead spattered with blood and, judging by
the long cut close to his temple, much of it was his own. Fronto
shook his head.