Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (63 page)

“
Ad aciem!”

Caesar and the
officers turned in surprise to stare at the young commander, but
the order had been given. The praetorians closed up around the
general as fast and as tightly as their horses would allow.

There was a
thrumming noise that was all too familiar to Ingenuus, and he
looked up and left. Something was happening in the eaves of that
building off to the side that was a centre of activity. And, as he
stared at the building, his eyes automatically refocused instead on
the arrow whirring toward the general with alarming accuracy.

“
Archer!”

He was too far
away to help, but the trooper nearest the general heard his
commander and noticed the arrow just in time to jump upwards,
throwing his shield high. The arrow thudded into the wood and
leather and the praetorian fell to the floor, the momentum of his
leap carrying him from his horse.

The general
blinked as the threat to his life vanished with the guardsman to
the ground.

“
Form up!” a voice called from behind as the tribunes became
aware of the sudden danger. The cohorts began to drive past the
mounted officers and cavalry into the square, where they filtered
out into lines and began to lock shields.

The Aduatuci,
realising they had lost the element of surprise, let out a loud and
violent roar and all around the square and back down the street,
warriors lining the way drew their hidden weapons and lunged at the
heavily armoured and fully prepared legionaries. Ingenuus, however,
was already driving his horse hard, several praetorians alongside
him, as he made for the assassin’s house. His guardsman had been
lucky to catch the first shot, but they may not be so lucky
again.

He looked up
as they neared the building. Warriors were rushing out to stop
them, but the legions were right behind him, filling the square.
There was something happening on the roof.

Caesar shook
his head.

“
What?”

“
Sir, you need to dismount, for safety!” Cicero sounded
desperate.

“
Unlikely” the general replied, drawing his sword. He turned to
Sabinus, who had done the same.

“
We may still be outnumbered!”

The officer
grinned.

“
I don’t think so, sir.”

He cupped his
ear and pointed back down the main street. Above the din in the
square, Caesar could clearly hear the cornicens of the legions
calling out formation commands; and they were close. Maybe even
outside the walls by now.

“
Someone mobilised the legions without us” Sabinus grinned. “I
wonder who would do something like that?”

Caesar nodded
and turned once more to the areas of concentrated activity in the
square. Something was happening on the partially dismantled roof of
a building. That must be where the arrow came from. Ingenuus and
his men, supported by heavy infantry, were now cleaving their way
through the Aduatuci to reach the building, but someone was already
there. The general squinted to try and see in more detail. There
were three figures there, all apparently natives, and fighting a
bitter struggle. As the general watched, the smaller and lighter of
the three, clearly a man apart, thrust with a small blade and
dispatched the archer, whose bow fell to the floor.

The man had no
time to savour his kill though, for the other opponent, a great
bearded brute of a fellow, leapt on him and began to pound and
pummel. The two men vanished from sight among the stacks of thatch
for long moments and the general frowned, turning his attention to
ground level.

The Aduatuci
had been well prepared, with hidden weapons and men in position
throughout the line the Romans had taken. Had there not been a
commotion in the square, the first thing they would have know of
the barbarians’ betrayal would have been the general being swept
from his horse by an arrow through the chest. Then all hell would
have broken loose as the armed warriors dived upon the unprepared
legionaries.

But things had
gone wrong for the Aduatuci.

Someone had
given the game away too early.

The general
smiled. Because of that, the archer had released his arrow too
early, and the legions were already deploying as the warriors
collected their weapons.

“
Thank you Fortuna. Good to see Fronto doesn’t have a monopoly
on you.”

The square was
already coming under Roman control and the sounds from back down
toward the walls clearly indicated that the reserves that had been
mysteriously mobilised were already engaging the Aduatuci that were
trying to close the gates and trap their prey.

His eyes
strayed once more to the roof of that building, just as the two
figures, grappling and tearing at each other, punching and biting,
battled their way out of the hidden stacks and to the edge of the
roof where, with a last flurry of blows, both men tumbled from the
parapet to the stone below with a crunch that was audible even over
the dying sounds of battle.

Sabinus turned
to Caesar.

“
Do we give quarter, general?”

The general
clenched his teeth.

“
No quarter. Every last inhabitant of Aduatuca dies. Every last
one.”

Chapter 22

(Oppidum of
Aduatuca)

“
Subura: a lower-class area of ancient Rome, close to the
forum, that was home to the red-light district’.”

“
Vindunum: later the Roman Civitas Cenomanorum, and now Le Mans
in France.”

“
Octodurus: now Martigny in Switzerland, at the Northern end of
the Great Saint Bernard Pass.”

Fronto
sighed.

“
But he’s alive?”

The young
capsarius, hunched over the figure of Priscus on the stone flags,
nodded, though his face was bleak as he turned to look up at his
legate.

“
He’s alive sir, but barely. He’s broken so many bones I can’t
even think how we’ll go about moving him. He’s like a
mosaic.”

Fronto
frowned.

“
But will he be alright?”

Florus stood
and met the gaze of his commander. Despite everything, it almost
made Fronto smile. Over a year ago, this young man had sat on a
hilltop near Bibracte as a green recruit panicking about the next
day’s battle. Now here he was, a professional soldier and medic,
dealing with some of the nastiest aspects of war in a calm and
collected manner.

“
I really can’t say at this point, sir. I’m not convinced he’ll
survive being moved, but we have to get him inside. The medicus
wants us to clear out some of the buildings here for use as a
hospital.”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
Can’t do that. Have to be back at the camp.”

The capsarius’
frown deepened.

“
Then we’ll have to carry him more than a mile and I’m really
not convinced he’ll make it. Even if he does, he’s going to need
several operations and splints. And, to be honest, many men
wouldn’t make it though that either. And then if he does, he’s
still nowhere near out of the woods. If he’s still alive tomorrow
morning there’s a chance. And every night he survives after that
his chances improve.”

Fronto’s face
was a picture of misery.

“
Do what you have to. I’ve lost one of my best centurions and
closest friends already this summer. I’m not going to lose
another.”

Florus shook
his head.

“
I’m afraid you are sir.”

“
What?”

The young
medic sighed.

“
Sir, the primus pilus shattered his left leg, including his
knee, in the fall. Bones heal, but joints are a different matter.
Whatever happens, even if he returns to robust health, he’ll be
lame the rest of his life, sir.”

“
Lame?” Fronto’s face fell. “You’re sure?”

Florus
nodded.

“
He may not even be able to walk. And I’m not sure about the
damage to his arms yet either.” He took a deep breath. “He may wish
he’d not lived, sir.”

The legate
growled and took a step backwards, grinding his heel into the body
of the man that had tumbled from the roof with Priscus, locked in a
terminal embrace. He felt the man’s bones crunch under his boot and
clenched his teeth.

“
Get him back and take care of him. Do whatever you have
to.”

Florus nodded
and waved over a couple of legionaries who were leaning on their
shields nearby and taking in the scene.

The oppidum of
Aduatuca had fallen less than ten minutes after the attack began.
Caesar had called for no quarter to be given, and the troops had
butchered every member of the Aduatuci they had come across for
some time before Fronto had persuaded the general to call a halt to
the murder. Even then, given the situation, he’d had to persuade
himself that the halt should be called first. Caesar was, at times,
harsh and even perhaps wicked in his dealings with his enemies and,
while Fronto often stood in opposition to such measures, after
betrayal, sneak attacks and the disappearance of Priscus and
Galronus, he could see how people were tempted to such
measures.

A centurion he
didn’t recognise, and there seemed to be so many of them these
days, approached him across the square. Fronto had been left in
command of the oppidum by Caesar, with very specific
instructions.

“
Sir?”

“
Centurion. Have you finished the count?”

The man
nodded.

“
Barring the farms and the woodland to the rear, all houses
have been checked and cleared of booty and the Aduatuci dead
stacked inside. We’ve counted just over four thousand enemy bodies.
The optio who counted the prisoners out of the gate said there were
over fifty thousand.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
That’s a good number for the slave markets in
Rome.”

“
All of them, sir?”

Another
nod.

“
Caesar’s orders. The Aduatuci are no more. Not a single one to
be left free. Dead or enslaved.”

“
Now that the legionaries have been separated out and taken
away, do we start the burials?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
No burials. There’s to be nothing left. Get everyone back to
the camp barring one century and have them fire the oppidum,
starting from the woods and working their way to the gates. Every
building; every tree; everything. Use oil to make sure the place
goes up like a torch. In a year’s time no one will remember the
tribe.”

The centurion,
startled by the decision, saluted.

“
We’ll get on it now, sir.”

Fronto nodded
and turned back to the three legionaries who had carefully shuffled
the unconscious and broken form of Gnaeus Vinicius Priscus onto a
blanket and were bearing him aloft toward the lower end of the
square. Striding across and catching up with them, he fell in
alongside the makeshift stretcher.

Trying not to
look at the mess that was his old friend, he paid attention instead
to the oppidum as he descended the street. The quality of the road
itself and the houses that faced onto it was outstanding for Celtic
tribes; almost Roman in its neatness and efficiency. Apparently the
Aduatuci had been ahead of their peers. Was that what had made them
so devious and calculating? Was this what Rome had become when
viewed by an outsider?

He found
himself once again thinking on the future of Gaul. The patricians
of Rome saw themselves as a civilising force, offering culture and
advancement to the barbarian world, though conquest if necessary.
What the patrician class generally failed to realise was how much
Rome itself could learn in return from those cultures. If only
things would settle and stay settled, Gauls, Belgae and Romans
could build something here.

He sighed.
Such thoughts seemed so sensible and practical in his head, until
his eyes strayed to the doorways of buildings as he passed and he
saw the piled bodies within.

“
Through conquest if necessary.”

“
Sorry sir?” the legionary beside him queried.

“
Oh, nothing.”

The small
party continued down the main street where less than an hour ago
Fronto had led the reserves into battle. Now, soldiers were
carrying chests full of the booty they had stripped from the tribe,
back down the paved avenue, across the square and through the gate
to the camp.

At least
they’d made something out of this. The campaign had been costly,
with a chillingly high number of dead among the legions. Many of
the centurionate, including some old friends, had gone to Elysium
this year. But the Belgae were beaten. There would be peace, at
least for a time and, after this, the Germans would be disinclined
to cross the Rhine for a while. There would probably be trouble in
the west of Gaul to deal with either in a month or so or, more
likely, next year. But in all, things would be peaceful.

He looked up
at the great wall, towers, and gate of the oppidum as he passed. He
would have to speak to the artillery officers. No good burning all
traces of the Aduatuci from the world but leaving their great
fortification to be used again, particularly this close to Germanic
territory. No, the walls would have to be completely destroyed. By
the end of the week, the great oppidum of the Aduatuci would be
nothing but a charred, denuded hill, and the process of wiping the
tribe from history would begin. It was like Carthage again, though
on a smaller scale.