THE INVASION OF GAUL (39 page)

For the first time the Boii leader to the right addressed Fronto. He stood wearily and stooped. For the first time Fronto realised that he was wounded. From the matted bloody hair and the bloodstains around wounds on his torso and arms, Fronto would easily have pronounced the wounds mortal. How the man had managed was unfathomable. A grudging respect crept into Fronto and he began to understand why the Aedui had such faith in the tribe. The chieftain looked up at the Romans, meeting Fronto’s gaze levelly.

“
Your words are just, Roman. You speak for the benefit of our tribes despite our differences. I doubt your general would offer such consolations as enthusiastically, and so I presume you have been left to deal with all arrangements accordingly. May I speak to you in private?”

Fronto was taken aback. Not only had he not anticipated any spirit left in these people, he had certainly not expected eloquent speeches in perfectly balanced Latin. Deep in thought for a moment, he focused on the Boii leader.

“
Your Latin is impeccable and you speak with the Rhetoric of a politician. How is this?”

The man shrugged.

“
We are not animals. I am Boii, but I have also been a citizen of Ocelum. Will you speak to me in private?”

Fronto stared for a while and finally nodded, rising and beckoning the Gaul outside. The two of them exited, leaving the Roman officers and the two remaining Gauls frowning and regarding each other suspiciously.

Outside, the Gaul staggered slightly and fell against the tent support. Fronto had been finding it harder and harder to maintain the tough façade and finally he cracked.

“
Sit down man, for Elysium’s sake. If you stand any longer, you’ll fall over.”

The Boii leader gratefully sank to the grass.

Making sure that there was no one but the guards in view, Fronto sank to the floor too. With one word he dismissed the guards and the two of them were alone.

“
Alright. I can see you’re an intelligent and educated man. You can probably see through the façade that I’m a soldier, not a politician or high commander, so let’s speak man to man.”

The Gaul nodded.

“
Indeed, though I think you put yourself down legate Fronto. We all know who you are. You are an able commander and I have the feeling you’re a just man.”

Fronto nodded.

“
I would like to think so.”

The Gaul shrugged wearily.

“
Our tribe has staked our future on the plans of the Helvetii. I think it would have paid well had not your general chosen them as his scapegoat for a campaign.”

Fronto raised his hand to stop the Gaul, but the man continued.

“
No need to deny it, legate. I am well aware of how Roman politics work. Caesar is hungry for war because war fuels careers. We had legitimate cause and concerns. In the end we lost because we were convenient. This is in the past. Rome is the future of this land, whether we like it or not. I know, as I’m sure you do, that Caesar will not stop with the Helvetii. In the end this will become a province and only those of us who do not capitulate will suffer. We have had our fight and made our stand. Now we will sit and await the inevitable.”

Fronto nodded again. There was a lot of sense and a lot of truth in what the Gaul was saying. It didn’t matter how long it took; this land would be Roman. The Boii recognising and accepting this would be a first step to peaceful domination.

“
What did you want to speak about in private?”

The Gaul shifted on the grass.

“
There are several thousand of the Helvetii that have not surrendered in the group. They escaped well ahead of your cavalry and will be making for the German border. I will accept the Aedui proposal, and I believe my tribe will support me. There is no future for the Helvetii without Roman support. Whether you can catch these fleeing tribesmen I do not know, but even if you don’t I cannot imagine them remaining a threat. There are not enough of them to create any kind of force and they are unlikely to be treated kindly by the Germans. I thought you should hear this in private. If I speak of it in there, it may cause further trouble.”

Fronto nodded. He would have to inform Caesar, but he already knew exactly what Caesar would do. Messages would be sent out threatening all the tribes until the remaining Helvetii were found and either returned to Geneva or made an example of. No point in causing trouble among the ambassadors when things were going so well.

“
Very well. It will be dealt with in time, but for the moment we have enough to worry about. Let’s get back inside. I want to get this finished and go for the drink I’ve been thirsting for over the last hour. I’d like to thank you for your candour and your honesty.”

As they walked back inside, Fronto didn’t even bother retaking his seat. Instead, he addressed the Gauls directly from next to the door.

“
Unless any of you has something to add, I believe we are finished. Anyone?”

The Gauls remained steadfastly silent.

“
Very well, leave now and settle for tonight within this camp. Your tribes will be joining you tomorrow, and arrangements will then be made.”

Turning to the other officers, he said “Velius and Gallus, show these men to an area they can make camp and have a guard assigned to them.”

The two saluted and escorted the Gauls out.

As soon as the other tribunes and centurions had left, Fronto slumped into the chair and motioned Priscus to the other seat in the corner.

“
Well Gnaeus, looks like we’ve finished with the Helvetii at last. I kind of wish it was us going with them back to Geneva rather than that vexillation. We’re all tired and undermanned, and Caesar’s got something up his sleeve. We’ve not seen the last of Gaul or of blood yet.”

Speechless, Priscus merely nodded wearily and reached for the wine jar.

PART TWO: ARIOVISTUS

Chapter
13

(Bibracte central square)

“
Pteruges
:
leather straps that hang from the shoulders and waist of the garment worn under a cuirass
.”

“
Aquilifer
:
a specialised standard bearer that carried a legion’s eagle standard
.”

The morning sun beat down on the baked earth of the square. The gentle sounds of summer surrounded the staff as they sat on comfortably draped benches to one end of the square. Even in his summer uniform, with the linen tunic rather than the wool, Fronto was aware of the spreading patches of damp accumulating around his armpits and the pools of salty sweat collecting beneath the bronzed cuirass and leather pteruges he wore. He could only imagine what the various signifers and cornicens felt like, wearing much the same but having to stand constantly at attention, carrying their heavy trappings of office.

Next to him, Sabinus wiped his brow for the umpteenth time. Away to the right beyond the career officers sat Caesar in his campaign chair on a hastily constructed wooden dais. Beside the general, Liscus sat on the same dais, seated in his own throne. The Aeduan leader had, over the past few weeks, taken to wearing a very Roman style tunic. He still wore the trappings of his people, including the golden torc around his neck, but had adopted much of the civilised Roman style. Fronto had noted how, over the following week, many of the better-off members of the tribe had taken to sporting these tunics. Somewhere in Bibracte there must by a tailor laughing and counting coins.

Fronto shuffled uneasily and felt his bare leg peel away from the wood where it had stuck with the heat. He fervently wished he could stand and air himself out a little, but the entire command had to be both present
and
presentable for the arrival of the chieftains. Word had reached them a couple of weeks ago that an assembly of the Gaulish chiefs had been called and that they would be congregating here. Most of the lower ranks continued to relax during their month-long respite after the battle, looking forward to seeing such a grand assembly of barbarians. Fronto and a few of the others knew better. There was no way that the assembly being called here was an accident of timing and, recalling Caesar’s words, he wondered whether the chieftains had come to ask for Caesar’s help against Ariovistus or whether Caesar had, indeed, engineered the whole thing.

Glancing at Sabinus, he smiled. A good thing the man was here. He was the only member of the staff that Fronto felt remotely comfortable around socially, and the legates and senior officers of the six legions were seated along one side of the square, opposite the various higher-born Aedui. Priscus, taking his place as commander of the Tenth, sat between Balbus and Longinus shuffling uncomfortably in the legate’s uniform he had been allocated by the staff. The ranks of the Roman command glittered in the sunlight and Fronto couldn’t help but wonder what the troops were getting up to without a single senior officer in sight.

A braying of horns became audible at a distance. That would be the various chieftains arriving at the city gate. They had elected to stay outside the walls in their own camps until the last of their number had arrived and now they were making for the assembly at the square. The discordant blaring of the strange wolf-head-shaped horns grew slowly louder, birds taking to flight from the trees in flocks. Of a sudden, the sound of Roman cornicens echoed round the city, drowning out the native horns. Tetricus was carrying out his duty to the letter. Fronto had assigned him as the senior prefect at the city gate, waiting to greet the Gauls. He had been told to leave the natives in no uncertainty as to who held the power here. Consequently, Tetricus was determined to assert Roman superiority even in the blared fanfares of the arrival. Fronto nodded approvingly. The cornicens were in perfect tune.

Around the square the officers straightened in anticipation. The sound of the horns from both armies faded and, a few minutes later, the sound of tramping feet and creaking wheels announced the approach of the tribal envoys. A Roman honour guard of cavalry entered the square first, fanning out and taking positions around the empty end of the square. Moments later, Tetricus rode in, his plumed helmet under his arm and his weapon sheathed. The Aquilifer of the Tenth rode at his side, a Roman eagle leading the way for the Gauls. The whole event had been well choreographed in advance by Longinus. Once the honour guard were in place, the first of the chieftains arrived, riding in a chariot pulled by two large black horses, with a ceremonial spear bearer by his side. He glittered in gold finery and wore a very well made cloak of deepest blue over his native tunic and breeches. A small group of his horsemen accompanied him. As the chariot ground to a halt, raising more dust than all of the cavalry had managed, the chieftain stepped down and alighted. The horsemen and the chariot pulled off to one side and exited the square by the other road, where they would be taken care of by one of Longinus’ cavalry alae.

As the second chieftain arrived in his chariot, the first walked to the centre of the square, gave a deep bow to Liscus, a curt half-bow to Caesar, and strode over to one of the campaign chairs that had been set aside and covered with fine silks to accommodate the guests. The second leader stepped from his chariot and followed suit as further natives entered. Fronto watched with interest as the chieftains arrived by the dozen. He found himself wondering how many tribes there were in this land and how many the army would have to put down before this land could be called a Province, for he was under absolutely no illusions now that that was the future of Gaul. The tribes that already held an alliance with Rome or that could be considered pro-Roman were self evident. Here and there Roman-style tunics or jewellery caught his eye. Some had gone so far as to wear purple after the fashion of Senators or some of the Eastern client Kings.

Finally all of the guests had arrived. With a salute to Caesar and a bow to Liscus, Tetricus turned and trotted from the square, the cavalry escort following him in precisely-drilled motion. Four of the chieftains stood and faced each other. Without a word being spoken, some kind of agreement was reached and three of them sat. The fourth turned to face the two leaders. He wore a long white tunic and robe over his Gaulish breeches, his beard was whitish grey and braided at the sides and his hair was held back from his forehead with a band of interwoven flax. Although he bore the traditional Celtic broadsword at his waist, he leaned on a long, knotted oak staff. Fronto squinted, trying to take in as much detail as possible. This must be one of the Druids of whom he had heard many tales since his first stationing in Spain. Most of those tales, told by Romans, had been variations on a horror theme, though he had never seen a Druid in all those years of campaigning. If they were all like this specimen, Fronto could see why they held such a position of influence in Celtic society. The man was imposing in the extreme. His long hair and beard, the white robes and the staff were partially responsible for that, though much of his arresting appearance came from the fact that the man stood head and shoulders above anyone else in the square. He must have been close to seven feet tall, ox shouldered and with fists like hams. As he opened his mouth to speak, his voice proved every inch the match of his physique, deep and booming.

Though he spoke in his local tongue, a member of the Aedui stood on hand as an interpreter and translated the Druid’s words for the benefit of the Romans.