Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (33 page)

“
Roman. The Suessiones seek an end to this. Call off your war
dogs and we will discuss peace.”

Caesar smiled
his empty smile.

“
Why should we discuss peace with an enemy when we have the
advantage? You seek peace only because you see our ramp, our towers
and our determination. You know Noviodunum will fall soon and fear
drives you to bargain.”

The old man’s
brow furrowed.

“
You would keep fighting? So that the Suessiones are no more?
Be sure that if you do, many Romans will not leave here. We are
Belgae and brave. We offer peace but if you insist on war we will
make the price of our oppidum the highest Rome will ever
pay.”

Caesar
frowned.

“
My terms are simple, then: total and unconditional surrender
of the entire tribe to the will of Rome. Then we call off our
attack.”

The old
nobleman sighed.

“
And our most beautiful women, our strongest men…” he sneered
unpleasantly “… and our prettiest boys will be sent to Rome as
slaves. This is less acceptable than death. We will agree peaceful
terms, but we will not sell ourselves, Roman.”

Caesar took a
deep breath and gave a feral smile.

“
Equally, when we are in such a strong position, you would not
expect us to clasp arms with you and forget our thousands of dead?
I will retire to consider what I am willing to accept and return
within the hour. You,” he said arrogantly, “will wait here until I
return. If you do not, then I will consider that to be a decision
to fight on and we will recommence our siege.”

Without
waiting for a reply, Caesar turned and strode off back to his
headquarters, the senior officers hot on his heels as the duty
centurion and his men fell in and closed the gate behind them,
leaving the disgruntled Suessiones staring at a closed door.

* * * * *

Caesar shook
his head.

“
After the damage they have done to us and with our current
position of strength, I refuse to smile and welcome these
barbarians into the fold. By rights they should be begging for
their lives on their knees now and, instead, they have the audacity
to make demands of us?”

Fronto glanced
across at Galronus, the most senior of the Remi serving with the
auxiliaries. The man, strong and tall and every bit as impressive
as the son of a chieftain should be, was glowering at Caesar.

“
My father want Suessiones treat well. Friend with
Rome!”

The general
rumbled deep in his throat.

“
Your father, Galronus, does not dictate the policy of the
Roman military. If the Suessiones wanted alliance with Rome, they
should not have chosen to go to war against us. For Venus’ sake,
it’s their leader who was elected to prosecute the war!”

Crispus
cleared his throat.

“
Perhaps, Caesar, this is an opportunity to build bridges
rather than walls?”

The general’s
head snapped round to glare at the young legate.

“
Very pretty rhetoric, Crispus, but I am faced with two
options. Firstly, I make peace with them and let them side with
Rome, and to balance the thousands of dead they have caused, we
draw a small number of auxiliary soldiers from them, and maybe a
hostage or two. Secondly, we take Noviodunum, put the Remi in
charge, and sell the Suessiones and all of their goods for an
enormous war profit that may well pay for another year’s
campaigning?”

The room went
silent.

“
Yes, I think that’s a fairly clinching argument,
gentlemen.”

Galronus stood
angrily.

“
Rome want friends with Remi? Remi want Rome friends with
Suessiones.” He folded his arms and then spread them in a breaking
motion. “Rome not friend with Suessiones? Rome not friend with
Remi. Remi go home!”

Caesar’s face
took on a dangerous hue and Fronto stood and strode across between
them, turning to the Belgic nobleman.

“
Galronus? Your point is made. Please, go outside and calm
down. Have a drink. Kick a horse or something. Just cool
down.”

He jostled the
resisting man to the tent’s entrance and heaved him bodily outside,
pinning the flap closed. He turned to see mixed emotions on
Caesar’s face.

“
Sorry, Caesar, but any minute you or he would have said
something we’d all later regret!”

The general
continued to glower. Fronto walked forward and took a central
position. He’d never been a great speaker and his rhetoric teacher
had given up in disgust, but when you had a great point to make, he
knew the centre of the floor was where to make it.

“
Caesar, you can make money from them as slaves and from booty,
but it’s a short term win. I can give you three reasons why you
should choose to come to terms.”

He held up his
hand and touched one index finger with the other.

“
One: terms are negotiable. You can gain auxiliaries who know
the other tribes and the lands to the north; men who have been in
the intimate council of the enemy; even taking the man who led
their army on as an ally. The intelligence you can gain is
phenomenal. If they feel you are treating them with fairness, they
may be amenable to giving you booty willingly, and resupplying you.
You may find the benefits that you can argue for outweigh what you
can just take.”

Caesar’s
glower had faded to a vaguely thoughtful frown. He gestured to
Fronto to continue.

“
Two,” the legate said, touching his middle finger this time,
“word of this will spread. If you show mercy and care, other tribes
may be swayed to our side without a fight. Whereas, if you tear the
Suessiones down and destroy them, you will remove for all time any
hope of the other tribes seeking peace. I’ve fought these Belgae
four times now this year already and I don’t believe that they’ll
react to violent treatment by becoming scared and meekly
surrendering. If they see you take out vengeance on a defeated
tribe, I think you’ll find they’ll react with ever greater
violence.”

He waited and
watched Caesar’s frown deepen.

“
Three.”

Here was the
biggest gamble, as he touched a third finger. “The future. I don’t
know whether we’ll be here next year fighting more Celts or
whether, once the Belgae are with us, the whole land will settle
and we’ll be able to call the whole of Gaul Roman, but either way…”
he swallowed. “Either way, one day Gaul will be Roman and what we
do now will either help hasten that or delay it. If we want Gaul a
peaceful, contented province, we have to start dealing with them
correctly even now.”

He finished
his little speech with a dramatic sweep of his arm and looked
around at the assembled faces, pleased not note the nods here and
there among the officers, the thoughtful looks on almost every
upturned face, and the sheer pride in Crispus’ young eyes. He
dropped his arms to his sides and gazed levelly at Caesar.

For a long
moment, the general sat silently, staring at him, and then suddenly
burst into genuine and noisy laughter.

There were
nervous laughs scattered around the tent from those who didn’t see
the joke but feared for their careers if they weren’t seen to
follow Caesar. Fronto almost smiled as he watched Plancus wrestling
with himself, laughing madly while he frowned, unsure why he was
doing so.

Finally,
Caesar slapped his hand down on the arm of his chair and wiped his
eyes.

“
Fronto, you are absolutely priceless. I can see why you never
went into politics. A magnificent collection of points you made,
but you deliver great ideas in common language, while gesturing
like a hawker of meats in the forum. And you’re sweating so much
your tunic’s actually changed colour!”

More laughter.
Fronto sighed and merely waited for it to finish.

“
Fine!” Caesar smiled. “You win me over. I can be as merciful
as I can harsh. Let’s go see the Suessiones and see what they can
offer.”

Fronto’s
shoulders dropped with relief and, as the general left the tent,
the other officers filing out behind him, a number of them slapped
him on the back or grasped his arm as they left. Lastly, Crispus
and Balbus joined him and the three left the tent.

“
Magnificent, Marcus” Crispus grinned. “You had the general
convinced by the end of your first point. That last one though…
worthy of Scaevola himself.”

“
Who the hell is Scaevola? You’re in danger of slipping back
into rhetoric yourself!”

Balbus
laughed.

“
He’s right, though. That was very good. I didn’t realise you
thought that far ahead. I never assumed you thought beyond the next
drink or the next fight!”

Fronto
frowned.

“
I just hope he doesn’t demand too much and push the Suessiones
into a fight anyway. Do we really want to go and watch
negotiations?”

Balbus shook
his head.

“
I don’t, but I think Caesar might expect you to be there,
given the role you just played.”

“
Oh, he doesn’t need me. And I have a jug in my tent that’s
still half full. Cita would moan at me if he thought I was wasting
his precious wine.”

Almost an hour
had passed with Fronto, Balbus and Crispus lounging in the tent,
working through Fronto’s now copious stock of wine. The mood had
been light and frivolous since the meeting at Caesar’s tent.

Crispus
grinned at Fronto.

“
So… about your woman, Marcus?”

Fronto
grimaced.

“
What about her?”

“
Well I can’t devote the senior officers of the Eleventh for
the rest of the campaign to baby-sitting a girl for you. You need
to decide what to do. Are you going to leave her here?”

Fronto
shrugged.

“
Can you have your tribunes deliver her to the elders in
Noviodunum? She’ll be safe there, once the treaty’s been
ratified.”

Crispus
frowned.

“
We can do that, certainly, but she trusts you, Marcus. It
should be you who takes her if she’s to go.”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
I think not. The bloody woman attaches herself to me like a
limpet. If your tribunes take her, she might stay there. Not with
me though.”

Crispus
smiled.

“
Very well. I shall arrange it for the morning. But you may
regret it on the cold nights in the hills…”

Balbus
laughed.

“
What is it with you, Marcus? Woman just want you.”

The three were
still laughing when there was a knock at the door. Before Fronto
could call out, however, the familiar voice of Sabinus from outside
addressed another man.

“
It’s Fronto’s tent. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

Fronto grinned
as the staff officer flung the leather aside and stepped in.

“
Are you still sober, man of the hour?”

Behind Sabinus
came Tetricus, with the tall figure of Galronus of the Remi
stooping to enter and bringing up the rear.

“
Others will be along shortly” Sabinus stated. “Your man
Priscus is busy arguing with Cita over wine and beer…”

“
Oh, good…” smiled Crispus vaguely.

“
But I thought you’d like to know that we are now officially
allied with the Suessiones. They’re supplying us with troops, gold
and provisions and lots of information. Their leader’s gone to
consult with Caesar.”

Fronto
smiled.

“
Good sense does sometimes win out, then.”

Sabinus
nodded.

“
So, I think we’ll be here for a few days now and, since you
and I might be called on at any time to go deal with official
matters, let’s make the most of this evening.”

He sat down
and grabbed three mugs from the table, passing one to Tetricus and
one to Galronus. The engineer watched happily as the staff officer
filled the mug.

“
Hadn’t even got a third of the way out into the ditch with my
ramp, let alone got the towers built. Caesar reckons that as soon
as they saw what we were doing, they gave in. Says he’s going to
give me a phalera for my efforts. It’s rare that an engineer gets
decorated!”

Sabinus
nodded.

“
Certainly is. Well deserved though. That ramp idea of yours
gave us the Suessiones without a fight.”

“
Thank you” a voice said.

Fronto turned
to look in surprise at the Remi nobleman, who raised his mug in
salute.

“
Remi and Suessiones thank, legatus Fronto.”

Taking a deep
swig from the mug, the man reached up and unfastened the
finely-crafted golden torc that hung around his neck. With a smile,
he held it out to Fronto. The legate stared at it for a moment, so
Galronus nodded and gestured with it.

“
Fronto says thank you” interjected Sabinus, passing the torc
on. “Now that’s enough giving of presents. Tomorrow we’ll probably
be ironing out treaties and training Belgae, so for now, let’s get
good and drunk before your Primus Pilus gets here with his dice and
takes me for everything I own.

PART TWO:
PRIDE OF THE BELGAE

Chapter 12

(Roman camp
outside the fortified oppidum of Noviodunum)

“
Duplicarius: A soldier on double the basic pay.”

The early
afternoon sun glinted off the standards and equipment piles of the
Tenth legion. The camp had settled into that limbo during a
campaign when there was currently no direction or action, but the
constant threat of it.