THE INVASION OF GAUL (24 page)

Fronto smiled indulgently at his second in command.

“
I can think of no better way of spending a lazy afternoon, Priscus. Get Velius in on the matter too. That man’s a born complainer, so everyone’ll take it seriously.”

He turned to the others.

“
I’ve got to be back at the headquarters in less than an hour in full dress uniform, but I could spare half an hour to go and hate the prisoner in person. Care to join me, gentlemen?”

Among the shaking heads, Longinus stepped forward and patted Fronto on the shoulder.

“
Someone’ll have to go with you, or you’ll end up stringing the man up in his cell.”

The various commanders went their separate ways, leaving Fronto and Longinus walking alone toward the hastily-erected stockade in the camp of the Ninth.

It struck Fronto once more that he was walking among men he had once commanded, and that he and Longinus had antagonised each other for so long that he had never considered the possibility that they could actually get along. The relationship was still nothing like that he already shared with Balbus, but every day he came to respect and like the legate of the Ninth a little more. He hadn’t noticed when he had become comfortable in his company and they had not slung even joke insults at each other for some time now. Perhaps it was the pressure of campaigning. Both of them had much more on their minds these days than the exchanging of petty abuse.

Smiling at Longinus with genuine warmth, he passed through the gate of the Ninth’s temporary camp as the other legate gave the daily password to the guard.

The stockade was a solid affair. Ten feet along each side, formed of sharpened stakes twelve feet high that had been retrieved from storage in the baggage train. Various materials were carried for just such emergencies. The one gate in the stockade was formed of the same stakes, bound together with heavy rope and barred with a six foot branch fed through two rope loops. A guard drawn from the Ninth stood at each corner of the stockade, and two of Caesar’s provosts stood by the gate, stiffly at attention, their eyes straight forward.

Fronto had never much cared for provosts. They were always rules-lawyers with an obsessive nature and no sense of camaraderie toward the rest of the regulars. Velius regularly joked that they stood as though they ‘had a javelin stuck up their arse.’ Fronto looked at the posture of the provost guards and raised his hand to his mouth, coughing to cover a smirk. Velius had an eye for detail, it seemed.

Longinus threw a questioning glance at Fronto and ordered the guard to open the door. Moving with mindless precision, the provost turned and withdrew the heavy beam, his counterpart levelling a pilum at the gate.

Fronto, still trying to stifle a smile, could see how unnecessary the precaution was as the door was pulled open. The prisoner, disarmed and unequipped, stood at the rear of the stockade, clad only in Gaulish breeches, shoeless. He was chained to the wall and could reach no more than five feet toward the gate.

Longinus regarded the prisoner for long moments and then turned and gestured meaningfully at the provost.

“
Get this man a tunic and some boots. I don’t care whether he’s comfortable, but if he dies of a chill before he can be brought to trial, you might be punished instead.”

The provost stood still and emotionless, answering with only the curtest of nods.

Longinus and Fronto stepped inside and the legate of the Ninth motioned to the provost to shut the gate.

Once they were inside alone, the two approached the prisoner, staying out of reach of his restrained arms, though the Gaul stood still and relaxed at the rear, with no tension on the chains. Fronto regarded him coldly and the Gaul met his gaze defiantly and with head high and back straight.

“
There are plenty of men in my legion and probably in the others that would like nothing more than to personally unravel your guts in front of the whole army and I have to admit to being one of them myself. Longinus is here to make sure I don’t disembowel you at a moment’s notice.”

He stood silently for a moment, waiting for a response that never came. He almost wished the Gaul would say something to goad him. For all Caesar’s words, Fronto was fairly sure he could get away with it. Still, killing a chained man was beneath him; even a traitorous dog like this.

“
Make no mistake. There’s only one direction from here. Death is inevitable. However, I might be persuaded to make it quick and easy for you if you cooperate a little with us?”

Once more he waited for a response, but the prisoner merely stood stiff and straight-backed, glaring at the two officers.

“
What the hell did I ever do to you? I assume you’re Helvetii, not Aedui? If that’s the case, then yes, I did attack your army and I did fight them. I’m not the only one, and I daresay that your generals would do the same to us if the situations were reversed. We would
never
stoop so low as to murder them in cold blood, though.”

As soon as the words were out, he regretted them, visions of Caesar’s execution of the Helvetii prisoners swimming once more through his head. How could he hold the moral high ground when senior Romans were capable of such barbarism? The obvious response did not come. The prisoner merely continued to glare at him.

“
For Gods’ sake, say something.”

The Gaul leaned back against the stockade.

“
What would you have me say, Roman? That I hate you? Of course I hate you; all of you. Why did I do it? What did I hope to achieve? Meaningless questions, all. What matters is that I tried and failed. For that I’m prepared to die. Now leave me be. It’s time I made peace with
my
Gods.”

Longinus shrugged as they turned.

“
We’ll get nothing from him. Arrogant race, the lot of them.”

Behind them the Gaul began to laugh. He muttered something in his own language, but the word ‘arrogant’ was clearly audible in Latin.

As the two officers reached the gate and Longinus knocked, the Gaul called out.

“
I will offer you one scrap of information, Roman, to keep you warm and cosy at night: I am not alone. There are others. Many others, and not all of them Gaulish. I failed, true, but
someone
will succeed.”

Fronto turned, ready to bear down on the Gaul and question him further, but Longinus held his shoulder fast.

“
He’ll tell you no more Marcus. Look at him. Personally, I want to know how the hell he managed to get into our cavalry. Surely the Aedui auxiliaries must have known he wasn’t one of them. I’ve got several men questioning them, but I doubt we’ll find anything out.”

They stepped out and the provost closed and barred the gate behind them.

“
I’ll head back to my men now. Have fun with Caesar.”

Fronto grunted and walked off in the direction of the Tenth and his own tent.

* * * * *

Caesar’s headquarters tent had been decked out in all its finery when Fronto arrived. The standards and flags of the legions were present, along with a huge map of the whole Empire painted on animal hide that hung behind Caesar. The staff officers had been directed to various seats around the rear of the tent to either side of the general.

Fronto had been the last to arrive, slightly late, and Caesar had given him a disapproving glance that he currently felt disinclined to care about. He had taken his seat to the far right. A spare chair sat between him and the others, and he wondered why until Balbus entered the tent, bowing slightly. It made sense, really. Balbus had been dealing with Gauls and had been stationed among them for a long time now. Consequently, he was by far the most conversant with their ways among the Roman command.

Much as Fronto didn’t want to be here, in a political conference with their Gaulish allies and among the staff, he reminded himself that he had a vested interest in the proceedings. The quartermasters had warned all of the most senior officers of impending supply problems. The shipments of corn that Caesar had arranged up the River Saone were now very much out of the legions’ reach, since the army had followed the Helvetii far from the course of the river. The supplies in the baggage train had therefore fallen low and were being stretched already. With weeks at least of campaigning ahead of the army, this could prove a serious problem.

The weather had picked up a great deal recently, but the climate here was not the same as home, and the corn in the fields of Gaul would not be ripe for a long time yet, so there was little hope of commandeering supplies on their march. Forage was keeping meat and fruit supplies above the bare minimum, but if supplies of corn were not forthcoming soon, the army would slowly begin to starve and would be forced to abandon the campaign. To this end, Caesar had prevailed upon the Aedui, as allies of Rome, to supply the army with corn.

The Aedui, eager to sustain their alliance, and mindful of the large army campaigning in their territory, had readily agreed. However, it had been several days since the promise, and nothing had yet been produced. In around a week’s time, the legions were due their next rations, and there would not be enough corn to meet the demand. It was a worrying situation looming in the minds of all the officers. Fronto had had enough on his mind recently without thinking of such matters and had left it in the hands of Priscus, but couldn’t shirk the responsibility any more.

Daily, scouts had been sent out to the larger Aedui settlements, asking what was happening with the promised corn, and daily the scouts came back bearing the same message: It would take more time. The Aedui were collecting it, but it was a huge task and required more time.

Thus the staff were here, waiting for the representatives of their allies.

A legionary approached the tent’s open doorway, bowing deeply.

“
The Aedui are here, General. Shall I allow them to approach?”

Caesar nodded and the collective officers shuffled apprehensively in their seats. A great deal depended upon this meeting.

The seven tribal leaders were ushered in, each handing their weapons to the waiting servants by the doorway. The weapons were taken to a cupboard in one corner, where they were stored carefully. Other servants produced seven seats, placing them opposite the officers, lowered the leather tent flaps and tied them together before leaving. The Aedui bowed to the Romans and then took their seats.

Fronto recognised only two of the chieftains. They had both spent some time in camp. Divitiacus had, in fact, been with them now for a while, in charge of the Aedui military contingent. Fronto made a mental note to have a quiet word with him afterwards concerning the assassin among his men. The other chieftain that he knew, a giant with long red hair and a thick beard, was named Liscus. He remembered being told in some previous briefing that Liscus was the top man among the Aedui, akin to the Consuls of Rome.

Caesar waited a moment for one of the few remaining servants to pour wine for all present. Fronto lifted his cup and inhaled the heady aroma. A quick sip confirmed his suspicion. This was a very high quality wine from Latium. He doubted most soldiers could afford even the smallest jar on a week’s wages. Caesar was not only reminding them of the benefit of Roman culture, but also of how much Rome valued its allies.

“
Where is my corn, gentlemen?”

Short. Curt. Not even particularly polite.

The Aedui sat in silence for a moment. Fronto noticed several of them exchanging worried glances, among them Divitiacus and Liscus.

Pausing only long enough for shame-faced looks to creep across the ambassadors, Caesar jabbed a finger at the map of the local terrain that lay on the campaign table in front of him.

“
We cannot gather unripe corn from around us, particularly in the face of our enemy. We cannot reach our own supplies of it. Our
one small request
from our staunchest of allies was help in producing supplies. We
know
that the Aedui have plenty of corn in storage. You can be sure that if we were unsure of your ability to survive on it yourself, we would not have requested it. However, we are here, shedding Roman blood in copious quantities to ensure the safety of your lands and your people from the marauding Helvetii. Why, in the act of defending the Aedui, are we forsaken by them?”

Caesar sat a moment longer, waiting as the chiefs glanced at each other. Suddenly Fronto realised that he felt sorry for them. His General may have qualities that worried him, but the man had power and presence aplenty.

“
Answer me
!”

Liscus stood, sharply. He bowed slightly to Caesar, and spoke in perfect Latin.

“
Great Caesar, my companions and I deeply regret any trouble that we have caused your army. We have no wish to anger our allies. We are delayed not through our own desire, but due to other matters occurring among the Aedui.”

Caesar frowned and glared at Liscus.

“
Explain.”

Swallowing nervously, Liscus continued.

“
Caesar, there is sedition among my people. We are chieftains, and yet there are private men with more influence over our people. These men are persuading the people of our tribe to delay or halt their gathering of corn.”

Caesar’s frown deepened and a thin film of sweat began to form on Liscus’ brow. The general motioned with only a finger for the chief to go on.