Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (51 page)

* * * * *

Baculus came
to suddenly in a commotion. He reeled and his head spun as he tried
to remember where he was. Ah yes; the world came flooding back. He
realised someone was helping him upright.

“
What’s going on?”

The legionary
beside him grinned.

“
It’s over, sir. The Fourteenth have broken through and joined
up with us. The Thirteenth and the Tenth are busy dealing with the
remnant of the Nervii, but the commander of the Fourteenth has been
asking for someone in charge, sir, and I can’t find legate
Galba.”

Baculus nodded
woozily and strained as he reached a standing position.

The soldier
helped him limp slowly and painfully through the gradually
dispersing ranks of the Twelfth who were now free from the press of
the enemy and recovering their strength.

Ahead, he
spotted a shiny breastplate and a crimson plume. He almost laughed
at the parade-ready cleanliness of the commander, particularly
given the fact that he himself was covered almost head to foot with
dirt and blood and had lost his helmet some time ago.

“
Report, centurion.”

“
Sir?” Baculus was genuinely taken aback. Who was this idiot?
The commander, obviously a legate, removed the plumed helmet and
placed it under his arm. He had big ears, Baculus noted, trying not
to laugh.

“
I want to see the commander of the Twelfth. Would that be
you?”

There was no
stopping it this time. Baculus laughed momentarily.

“
Possibly, sir. Legate Galba was here somewhere, deep in the
fighting, but he could be dead by now.”

“
Are you not going to salute?”

Baculus stared
at the man.

“
Can’t sir. Wounded.”

“
Very well.” The legate looked distinctly put out, which
threatened to make him laugh again. ”You appear to be diminished.
How many officers do you have?”

Again, Baculus
stared.

“
I really don’t know sir. Maybe half a dozen? I know we’ve lost
two cohorts entirely, including the standards.”

“
You lost a standard?” The man’s voice reached a high-pitched
shriek.

“
Not me personally, sir. That would be the standard bearer
you’re thinking of…”

He grinned.
The officer glared at him, slowly tuning purple.

“
When the general hears that you have lost a standard,
he…”

Baculus
watched with interest as the young officer’s face dropped and very
quickly turned from purple to white. It was a sharp colour change,
the likes of which the centurion had never seen before.

“
Legate Plancus,” Caesar said, as he reached for Baculus’ other
arm and supported him, “I suggest you stop talking before you
irritate me.”

The young
man’s mouth flapped noiselessly and Caesar smiled unpleasantly.

“
As I expect you will observe from the fact that the Twelfth is
missing four men in every five, that we are all covered in blood,
both Roman and Belgic… and that centurion Baculus is so badly
wounded that he cannot stand without aid…” he took a breath,
leaving a leaden silence. “I expect you will realise that we have
had rather a tough day and I’m not as worried about the loss of a
few gaudy baubles as I am about how long it took my damned reserves
to reach the field and help us.”

The last few
words came out as a growl and Plancus flinched.

“
Sir, we came as fast as I deemed sensible. Troops who are
tired from running cannot fight as well on the field.”

The general
stared at him.

“
You left us all to die because you wanted your men well
rested? Get out of my sight, Plancus, and be grateful I’m not
sending you home.”

* * * * *

Baculus sighed
and lay back on the sheet that was his temporary resting place.
There had not been enough time to construct even a makeshift
hospital and the wounded were being treated on carts where there
was room and the ground elsewhere. Blankets and sheets from the
medical supplies had been draped over the clear portions of grass
at the top of the southern slope and here lay those soldiers who
had now been dealt with by the medical staff, but were too wounded
to return to duty.

“
What the hell?” a voice asked suddenly to his left.

He blinked and
turned his head painfully. Legate Fronto of the Tenth was rubbing
his head with his right arm.

“
Where am I?”

Baculus
smiled.

“
With the wounded heroes, legate.”

Fronto turned
and tried to focus on him.

“
Baculus, yes? From the Twelfth?”

“
That’s right, sir.”

“
Looks like they really did a job on you.”

Baculus
laughed and then winced.

“
You too.”

Fronto nodded
as best he could.

“
So does this mean it’s over? We won?”

The centurion
smiled.

“
Pretty much. There were still a lot of them when I was taken
away, but they were dying in droves by then.”

“
Good.” The legate sighed and tried, unsuccessfully, to move
his left arm. “I suppose this serves me right for asking why the
Belgae were all pushovers!”

Baculus rubbed
his eye.

“
You might want to leave that arm alone, sir. I heard the doc
talking. He’s only fifty-fifty that you’ll ever use it again and
prodding and moving it probably won’t help.”

“
Layabouts!” a voice cut across them.

They both
craned painfully to look down past their feet at the source of the
voice. Priscus stood in front of them shaking his head.

“
Thought I’d best update you on the situation.”

Fronto nodded
as best he could manage.

“
Go on.”

“
We lost about seven hundred men. Not done a full head count
yet, but that’s a good estimate. Among them were five centurions,
three optios, a signifer and one of the tribunes.”

Fronto
sighed.

“
Not good.”

“
It gets worse,” Priscus said, his voice dark. “Velius has
gone. Not found him yet, but we’re searching the bodies and we’re
not hopeful.”

“
Where are the lads now?”

“
I’ve got some of them looting the enemy camp with the other
legions. The rest are either collecting the bodies or herding the
few prisoners we took. There aren’t very many… maybe five thousand,
all told. They fought to the death.”

Fronto sighed
again and Baculus frowned.

“
I don’t suppose you know of the Twelfth’s status.”

Priscus nodded
sombrely.

“
Unfortunately, yes. They’ve already turned in a headcount.
Your numbers are down to nine hundred and twelve, including
officers. Only three centurions made it, and seven
optios.”

Baculus
collapsed back to the floor.

“
This was a total bloody shambles.”

“
Could be worse,” Priscus sighed. “The outriders spotted scouts
from the Aduatuci. They were only an hour away, and there were
thousands more of them. They’ve turned round and run back to their
own lands.”

“
Good,” Fronto grumbled. “I’m rapidly getting sick of the
Belgae.”

* * * * *

Paetus cowered
and shrank back amongst the Belgic warriors being herded like
cattle between the trees and back toward the partially-constructed
camp. Dozens of warriors, along with their druid, had left the
field and disappeared into the woodland with a view to escaping the
battle and finding somewhere they could recuperate before returning
to their home. Paetus had gone with them. What else could he
do?

All the way
through those dark woods he had been deciding how best to deal with
this. If he stayed with the Belgae, they would skin him alive when
they reached safety; indeed, he was surprised they’d left him this
long. But on his own, he’d not survive long either. The other
option, to return to the army and deny any knowledge of what had
happened, would be difficult to achieve convincingly. Plus it would
leave that taste of bile in his throat.

But all his
deliberation had been a waste of effort, for the moment they broke
cover from the woods, Varus and a cavalry unit had them surrounded.
Paetus had wondered what the druid intended to do about it, but
somehow the man had vanished before the cavalry sprung their
trap.

And now here
he was. It was a testament to how much he’d changed in recent days
that the cavalry had herded him along without a second glance,
assuming him to be one of the enemy. Things had fallen apart once
more for him, and yet he was still alive; and as long as he was
alive, that fiery thirst for revenge deep in his heart would
continue to drive him.

Chapter 18

(Battlefield
by the Selle River)

“
Kalends: the first day of the Roman month, based on the new
moon with the ‘nones’ being the half moon around the 5th-7th of the
month and the ‘ides’ being the full moon around the
13th-15th.”

“
Haruspex (pl. Haruspices): A religious official who confirms
the will of the Gods through signs and by inspecting the entrails
of animals.”

In the
hastily-erected headquarters tent, Caesar leaned forward and
cradled his fingers.

“
Are we going to have to spend the next few months repeatedly
pacifying every Belgic tribe that still has a complaint against us?
I was under the impression that the Belgae’s alliance would
collapse if we broke the back of the Nervii?”

Galronus of
the Remi shook his head gently.

“
Nervii, Atrebates and Viromandui are greatest of Belgic
tribes…” He paused, and looked a little saddened to Fronto. “Were
greatest. And you destroy them. There is hardly man left who can
fight; just women, children, old men. They not come to seek peace,
for they broken and frightened, but you nothing to fear from
them.”

He pointed at
the map on the wall.

“
Now all of Belgae will take Rome as friend… except Aduatuci.
You understand why?”

Sabinus,
sitting to one side of the table, nodded.

“
I think I understand. The Aduatuci are the last proud Belgae.
They know that we are aware of their part in this, and they believe
that we will not seek peace, yes?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
It’s more than that. The Aduatuci will shun the Belgae now and
join the Germanic tribes. They descend from German blood and are as
much German as they are Belgae. You’ve eliminated all the Belgic
resistance now and I think you can safely say that The Belgae are
tamed. You can arrange terms and so on, but the Aduatuci will join
with the Germans instead. Problem is: we need to deal with them
before they get that chance.”

Caesar shook
his head.

“
The Aduatuci have abandoned all the forts between here and
their home. They’ve retreated to their oppidum. It makes no great
matter whether they call themselves Belgae or German, or even
Samnite or Greek. The fact remains that they are in no position to
resist us now and they know it. Given enough time to see the
hopelessness of their position, they will fall before us and ask
for peace.”

Fronto glanced
across at Galronus who was shaking his head.

“
I don’t think so, Caesar.”

“
What?”

Fronto tried
to heave himself out of his chair, but he was still too weak from
the battle and, with only one working arm, he just didn’t have the
strength or the leverage. He sighed.

“
If the Aduatuci consider themselves basically a Germanic tribe
and so do the Germans, there’s a good chance that they will ally
with the tribes across the Rhine against us. The Germans have had a
problem with us since last year, and I can’t see the Aduatuci
having to do much prodding to push those tribes into open war
again.”

He looked
around the room at the number of officers currently displaying
wounds.

“
And, given the fact that we just got the living snot kicked
out of us and are operating very much below strength, we really
can’t afford to have another Ariovistus pop up and decide that
Rome’s getting too close to the Rhine again. If they rose against
us, there’s still time for them to come west before
winter.”

Caesar
frowned.

“
A worrying possibility, I will concede.”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
It’s very simple. We’ve got to get to the Aduatuci and take
them out of the picture before they involve the
Germans.”

The general
stood for a time, tapping his finger on his lower lip and finally
nodded.

“
Agreed. I was hoping this war was finally over, but we have to
finish it before it becomes a German matter.”

He looked
around at the officers under his command.

“
Labienus? I need you to take a force from the army. Not a full
legion, as we may need them, but enough cohorts from wherever they
can be spared to make half a legion, along with a few scouts and
cavalry. Procillus and Mettius, I want you with him. The three of
you, with a reasonable force, need to find and deal with the
remnants of the Nervii and their allies. Send scouts out to every
major oppidum of the Belgae and tell them Caesar calls their
leaders to council at…” He paused and examined the map
again.