Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (29 page)

“
Well, I’ve been thinking about the geography of this.
Divitiacus and his Aedui are wading through Bellovaci territory, so
they’re actually more to the west than the north. In actual fact,
the Belgae are now more directly between the forces than they would
have been near the marsh. In fact, if the Bellovaci learn about the
Aedui, they’ll likely abandon the army to go home and defend their
lands.”

There was a
sigh.

“
I suppose so. I was just looking forward to a single
definitive victory.”

Fronto smiled
in the dark.

“
That was never going to happen among the Belgae, Caesar, and
you know that. Everyone says that when they’ve no common enemy they
fight each other. That sort of people aren’t going to give up in
one big force. We’ll probably be fighting them tribe by tribe long
after the big boys are under our heels. The way to do it is not in
one big battle, but to put them down one tribe at a time and, if
possible, to turn them into allies as we do it.”

“
Yes, you’re right, of course.”

“
Caesar?”

Fronto’s voice
took on a worried tone. A headache was one thing, even one strong
enough to make the general delegate all duties and retreat to his
tent, but for him to meekly accept Fronto’s advice without an
argument, a quip, or a little pomposity was truly unheard of.

“
Are you alright?”

“
Yes, Fronto!” Slightly irritable now. “Of course. Now, what
else?”

Good. That was
more like Caesar.

“
I’ve seen to everything here, but I’m assuming that we’ll
probably be moving on shortly, and I doubt we’ll be back here,
no?”

Another
sigh.

“
Would you like me to handle your scouts and spies while you
recover?”

“
That would be good, yes. Thank you, Fronto. Now I think I
should sleep.”

Fronto stood
in the darkness and turned, using the tiny sliver of grey to
navigate his way to the door once again.

“
Be well, Caesar.”

Trying not to
open the flap wide and admit too much light, Fronto left the room
and spied the dozen Gallic-dressed horsemen standing respectfully a
distance away, beyond Ingenuus’ men who guarded the tent.

“
You speak Latin, yes?”

“
Yes,” confirmed the nearest man.

“
I don’t know what Caesar usually asks you to do, but the
general is sleeping, and I’m to brief you. We need you to get back
among the fleeing Belgae. Spend a few hours among them and find out
their plans. Then get back here as soon as you can and report to
Caesar or myself. Be subtle and careful. Clear?”

The men
nodded.

“
Good. Then go.”

Without
watching them leave, Fronto turned and strode back towards his own
tent.

“
Wine!” he said, slapping his forehead. Veering off to the
side, he strode in the direction of the quartermaster.

* * * * *

The morning
was pale and watery, as was Fronto, blearily emerging from his tent
like a cave dwelling creature coming out of hibernation.

“
What is it?” he grumbled, rubbing his bristly chin and
blinking. This was going to be a powerful hangover.

“
The scouts are back and Caesar’s called for his officers,
sir.”

Fronto stared
at the young guard in front of him; one of Ingenuus’ men, neat and
smart, who had obviously been on guard.

“
Urgh.” Wincing, Fronto excavated a lump of crusted sleep from
the corner of his eye.

“
Of course… the general’s had a long sleep, so he’s up at
Aurora’s arse!” He became aware of the smirk the soldier was trying
to hide. “Lead on!”

As he shuffled
along behind the guard in the direction of Caesar’s tent, he saw
Balbus approaching with Varus. The latter was clean-shaven and
bright, but the older legate was clearly enjoying this morning as
much as Fronto was. He smiled. On the bright side, they’d both be
feeling better than Sabinus who, this morning, probably wished he
was dead. The two legates shared a look and entered the tent.

Many of the
staff and senior officers were already present and seated. Fronto
and Balbus walked around the edge and sank gratefully into their
chairs. The general tapped impatiently on the table and then
cleared his throat.

“
My scouts have returned and confirmed the situation,
gentlemen.”

He tapped on
the map behind him, indicating the territory to the west.

“
The surviving force, numbering probably around a hundred and
twenty thousand has made for the lands of the Suessiones. There
they plan to disperse to protect their own lands and wait to see
what our next move is. It would appear that the Bellovaci have
become aware of the Aedui in their lands and have already gone off
ahead on their own.”

The general
paused and registered the surprise on many officers’ faces at news
of their Gaulish allies.

“
I am sure of Divitiacus’ ability to deal with them on his own,
so I intend to concentrate on the rest. We will not give the Belgae
enough time to pull a huge army together again, but will move on
them swiftly, one tribe at a time. But in the first instance, while
they’re still largely together and disorganised, I want to damage
them further. We are only a day behind them and can easily catch
up.”

He smiled
grimly.

“
I want to follow them closely and keep harrying them. I want
to encourage them to panic and disperse and, as soon as they have,
we will make for the Suessiones’ capital at Noviodunum, where we
will bring that tribe and any allies that remain to battle and
either absorb or annihilate them. Once that is done, all of the
southern Belgae will be under our control: the Bellovaci,
Suessiones and the Remi. Divide and conquer, gentlemen… divide and
conquer.”

There was a
shuffling noise at the rear. Fronto turned to look and he and
Balbus almost let out an explosive burst of laughter. Sabinus was
sheepishly stumbling around the periphery and looking for a seat.
He resembled one of the homeless drunken old soaks that lived in
the outfall pipe of the cloaca maxima in Rome. There was a general
good humoured murmur, though Fronto turned and watched the
disapproving frown on the general’s face.

Caesar cleared
his throat.

“
So this is what you will do: Varus? You will take the cavalry
and harass the enemy as they flee. You will need to split into
three forces to herd them in the correct direction along the river,
so… Pedius and Cotta? I am assigning you to Varus on cavalry
duty.”

He gestured at
Varus.

“
I want you out there and engaging them in the next few hours.
As soon as we’re done in here, get the cavalry moving. Keep pushing
them west into the Suessiones’ land. And don’t bother having them
decamp first. Just get going.”

Varus nodded
professionally. Fronto smiled. The young cavalry prefect he’d seen
at Vesontio last year had evaporated, to be replaced by this
professional veteran who had just had two of Caesar’s most senior
staff officers placed under his command.

The general
wheeled.

“
Right behind them will be half the army. The Eighth, Ninth,
Tenth and Eleventh are all fresh and at full strength. Those four
legions under their commanders will move out immediately after the
cavalry at the fastest possible pace. Again, they need to take only
their weapons and armour. Leave the decamping and transport. Just
get caught up. Varus will be keeping them busy until you
arrive.”

He turned to
the officer on his left.

“
Labienus? I’m putting you in overall command of that force.
The legates all know what they’re doing…”

He cast a
pointed look at Fronto and Balbus.

“…
despite current appearances… but I want a cohesive
strategy and that means an overall command system. Kill as many of
them as you have to with as few losses as possible. Don’t let them
change course, and don’t allow them to form up into a proper army
again. You will need to play this carefully to keep them moving. Be
a shepherd and only cull where necessary.”

Labienus
nodded and the general straightened.

“
The Twelfth have been mopping up the survivors by the marsh
and burying the dead. Galba will return shortly. Once he is here,
the Twelfth, Thirteenth and Fourteenth will break camp and
accompany the slow-moving artillery and baggage. I will stay with
them and we will transport all the gear of the cavalry and the
other four legions until we meet up and find the place for our next
campaign camp.”

He folded his
arms and scanned the crowd in the tent.

“
Is that all clear? Any questions or comments?”

Fronto cleared
his throat.

“
With respect, Caesar, there are still quite a few Belgae
unaccounted for. According to the numbers you got from the spies
and the Remi before we moved into Belgae lands, we’ve only come
across half or two thirds of them. We can be fairly sure the rest
aren’t out to the west. If the Bellovaci are rushing that way to
protect their lands, then there’s no allies out there. We know
they’re not south ‘cause that’s where we came from. They can’t be
west as that’s all Gallic and Germanic lands and we’d have heard.
That means they’re north and when the legions follow the survivors,
they’ll have free reign behind us.”

Caesar frowned
and rubbed his neck.

“
So what are you suggesting, Fronto?”

You need a
rearguard, Caesar. A strong rearguard. All your cavalry will be out
west and you’ll be weighed down by the wagons. I’d suggest you send
three legions west, not four. Then have two legions accompanying
the baggage and artillery and two playing rearguard. In fact, I’d
be tempted to keep a small cavalry unit to act as scouts and
outriders for the column.”

Caesar
nodded.

“
I suppose that’s sensible. And we need to be sure of our
supply lines anyway. Very well. I’ll keep the Eleventh and Twelfth
for rearguard and the Thirteenth and Fourteenth with the baggage.
The Eighth, Ninth and Tenth will go west under
Labienus.”

Ten minutes
later, Fronto was standing, still grey, bleary and unshaven, by the
standards of the Tenth in their shrine. Priscus sat on the altar to
victory, an act that was highly sacrilegious, and folded his
arms.

“
So we’re actually going to have a chance to fight?”

Fronto
nodded.

“
It’s not going to be much of a fight. We’re just pursuing a
fleeing army and nipping at their heels. Varus and his cavalry left
five minutes ago. Caesar wants the three legions ready to move,
unburdened by crap, within the hour. I want the Tenth out front and
ready in half that time. We’ve a reputation to maintain,
Gnaeus.”

The primus
pilus laughed.

“
You’re certainly living up to yours. If you want us to look
good, go bathe and shave while we decamp. You smell like a latrine
and you look awful.”

“
Thanks again.”

The legate
sighed.

“
But a bath does sound good. Right, I’ll go bathe sharpish and
I’ll see you on the ‘parade ground’ out front in forty
minutes.”

The primus
pilus nodded and tapped the nearest standard.

“
I’m looking forward to it. So is Balventius. We talked last
night. To be honest, we’re all a bit sick of watching auxiliaries
and Gauls hogging all the glory. Are you sure you remember how to
command a legion? You’ve been an auxiliary prefect for the past few
weeks, really.”

“
Shut up!”

Fronto
glowered at his subordinate’s grinning face and, turning, left the
legion’s command tent. Watching the upheaval around the camp, he
strode down the slope to the river. Finding the shelf by the
water’s edge that the legions had flattened and decked out with
planks for this purpose, he wandered over to the large wooden chest
that lay on one side.

The container
was unlocked and opened to reveal jars of olive oil, strigils, and
clean sponges. Fronto stretched and began to remove his tunic,
breeches and various accoutrements. The early morning chill brought
out gooseflesh as he stood, naked, on the wooden platform. Reaching
down, he grasped the olive oil container and proceeded to tip it
out into his hand and rub it into his cold flesh. In a nice civil
bath house within the empire, the process was relaxing and
refreshing; often with the help of a slave and, in the better
establishments, accompanied by wine, bread and cheese, and music.
The experience in the field was a little less relaxed.

He shivered as
he hurriedly rubbed the oil into his calf. At least it led to very
quick and efficient bathing. Once he was fully oiled, he replaced
the oil container in the chest and, picking up the strigil, stepped
off the wooden surface and onto the discoloured turf nearby.
Slowly, he worked at removing the oil and grime with the curved
blade, the gloop falling away in gobbets to the grass. Finally, he
finished his routine and stepped forward and down into the
water.

As part of the
work the engineers had done on this temporary bathing complex, a
set of steps had been carved and decked down into the water, and a
floor of wooden beams sunk into this side of the river, replacing
the reeds and sucking mud that would have greeted him.

Biting his
lip, he stepped into the cold water, his toes curling at the
sensation. A little further and his shins and calves complained.
Then the knees; the thighs; his abdomen and then with one quick
splash, he submerged completely, dropping to sit underwater on the
wooden floor. He sat for a moment, adjusting to the refreshing
cold, and then pushed himself back up.