THE INVASION OF GAUL (9 page)

Ten minutes later, Fronto strode into the Headquarters of the Eighth’s garrison fort. The building was bustling and busy. Despite the absence of the newly commissioned officers of the Eleventh and Twelfth, who were now at their own camps and preparing their legions for later in the day, a large number of officers, administrators and other personnel charged around the building, carrying piles of paper and lists. Caesar’s door stood open, people rushing in and out almost constantly. Fronto waited impatiently by the opposite wall for the line of incoming and outgoing scribes to thin out, tapping his fingers on his crossed arms and making a throaty harrumphing sound.

A hand on his shoulder made him start. He turned to see the worn but smiling countenance of Balbus.

“
You look like a man who’s ready to charge the barbarians all by yourself. What’s got at you?”

Fronto sighed. “Just one of those days I suppose. I see the Eighth are ready to move. Balventius has been trying to get hold of you, but I gave him permission to strike tents and make ready. I assume that’s alright?”

“
Yes indeed. Things have been a little hectic here and I’ve not had the chance to get away. I saw Longinus earlier. He’s already sent all my cavalry and the auxiliary riders off to the far end of the wall. I can’t decide whether he’s being tactical or just trying to stay out of the way of the action.”

Fronto nodded.

“
Probably the latter.”

He gestured at the door, the traffic having fallen to a sensible level, and the two legates entered.

Caesar stood, his campaign chair folded against the back wall. He was, for a change, in full armour with a servant tying the ribbon around the cuirass. Fronto, who spent most of his life in full armour, could never see the attraction of the glamorous looking efforts that generals habitually wore. The whitened chest piece with the embossed decoration was very impressive, but impractical in a combat situation. Fronto had been given a very ornate cuirass after the Spanish campaign, though he had left that back in Puteoli in a chest. The armour he currently wore was a bronze-finished steel cuirass with the traditional soldier’s decoration of a Medusa head on the chest. Comfortable and practical.

Caesar glanced up at them as they entered.

“
Ah, gentlemen. I assume manoeuvres are underway?”

Fronto and Balbus nodded. “The Eighth are striking tents and will be in position by sunset, fully encamped. The Eleventh and Twelfth have maybe an hour on us and will be in position in time for the men to eat lunch sir.”

“
Good. Good. I want all available senior officers with me when the Helvetii arrive so, Balbus, you’ll have to leave your primus pilus in charge of the Eighth for now. On the bright side gentlemen, that means that the two of you and Longinus will get the next two days in luxurious quarters in Geneva with myself and the other staff officers.”

Balbus merely nodded, but Fronto’s fear that the day would turn nasty was gradually being borne out.

“
Sir? The Eighth is still lacking its major training officers due to the inexperience of the two new legions. Balventius is good, but he could have trouble holding a widely-spread legion together without a solid command structure around him. To keep us here will not help. Balbus should be with the Eighth and I should be with the new legions, helping Tetricus and Velius when they need it. I’m not an ambassador, sir, I’m a soldier.”

A slightly peeved look passed across Caesar’s face. The servant tying the ribbon finished and stepped back abruptly.

“
Legate, tell the Eighth’s primus pilus to call his training officers back in. They can aid the Eleventh from where they’ll be on the wall. I’m sure he can manage.” With a sigh, Caesar sat down on the corner of a large table.

“
Fronto, I know you hate this, but you need to be aware that an officer has a number of tasks above and beyond fighting and commanding a unit. We need to present these barbarians with a united and terrifying front, and all the legions, in the day or two to come, will need officers who are fully informed of the situation. You
will
come with me to the meeting, and you
will
allow the more junior officers the chance to do their jobs. Tetricus will be moved to the staff in a year or two and he will need command experience in case he has to command a legion then. Velius and Balventius have over a hundred years of command experience between them. I’m sure they can handle anything that’s thrown at them.” He saw Fronto open his mouth and draw breath to speak, so he gestured pointedly.

“
Don’t make me argue, Marcus, just do as you’re told!”

* * * * *

Fronto sat by the warming fire of Balbus’ quarters. He was once again profoundly grateful to the legate of the Eighth for the hospitality he had shown during the last two days. Longinus and many of the staff had, in the way of insecure officers everywhere, spent their entire time hanging around Caesar’s feet like lapdogs and attempting to get themselves into his good books. Fronto had known Caesar long enough, and Balbus was secure enough, to know that the best way to get on the general’s good side was to be there just before he realised he needed you, and be conspicuously absent the rest of the time. Thus the legates of the Eighth and Tenth had been prompt at all four of Caesar’s dinners and strategy meetings, and had spent the rest of the time at Balbus’ house, talking over old campaigns and discussing the generalities and the specifics of life in the military.

Fronto had been embarrassed on his first evening here to be eating one of the very tasty cakes Balbus’ wife had made for the general when she had walked in on them. He had mumbled some excuses about deprivations around a mouthful of crumbs, and Corvinia had, surprisingly, immediately taken to the gruff legate. Apparently he reminded her of Balbus twenty years ago; a comment that had made the older legate wince. Since then, Corvinia had apparently given up any hope that Caesar might grace her household and had instead taken to looking after Fronto. He had not been allowed to return to the quarters in town, spending his nights instead in a spare room. She had fed him to within an inch of his life, and Fronto was convinced he would have to run the length of the wall twice just to wear off two days’ worth of eating. Finally, she had confided in Fronto that she didn’t like to see such a brave, handsome and intelligent man without a good wife, and had made sure that every time he needed anything, one of her two daughters was on hand. He had asked, foolishly, after the third daughter and been told that she had been married two years ago to a soldier of some importance.

Despite feeling as though he were trying to digest a signal tower, and having to avoid and frustrate the attentions of the two teenage girls and their insistent mother, Fronto was at the most relaxed he could remember being in many years.

A runner had arrived to inform the two legates that the legions were in position and that lookouts had been placed. Balventius, Velius and Tetricus had apparently taken good care of them and Fronto was surprised to realise that he had not spared a thought for the men during their travel and manning of the defences. That would change soon enough of course.

Today in fact. It was a little after dawn, and Caesar had informed all of the officers that they must be in position at the town’s north gate an hour after sunup. Balbus sat on the other side of the fireplace, one slave tying the ribbon around his cuirass, another lacing up his boots. Fronto eyed him up and down. Balbus looked every inch the hard bitten soldier. Much, he suspected, like he would look not long from now. Probably how he looked now, in fact.

Fronto had been all for taking a glass of watered wine with his morning repast, which his father had always claimed was good for the blood, though Corvinia had clucked over that decision and supplied the two legates with a glass of warm goat’s milk each.

Fronto sat in his military garb, with the red cloak folded and ready to don when he stood. He was profoundly grateful to Corvinia for having washed and dried his good red military cloak. Caesar had made it clear that full dress was required, but had grasped Fronto by the shoulder as he left and whispered into his ear “not
that
cloak though.”

He had made another attempt last night to unpick one of the cherubs from
that
cloak, and had accidentally torn a small hole by one leg. He sighed. The cloak would be with him until he died and, knowing his sister, he would be buried with it and would have to suffer it throughout eternity.

Balbus stood and dismissed the slave with a gesture.

“
Alright, Marcus. Are you ready to face the barbarian?”

“
As ready as I’ll ever be, Quintus. It’s about time we moved anyway. A week here at the mercy of Corvinia and I’ll be a lazy, rotund man with as much energy as a sponge!”

Balbus laughed and slapped his colleague on the back.

“
Come on. Let’s move before one of my harpy-like daughters corners you.”

On the way through the town, the streets were eerily quiet. Fronto had always assumed that civil townsfolk awoke at a more leisurely time than the army but had found, with the early morning noise of the last few days, that the military did not have the monopoly on early. However, today the normal tradesmen, craftsmen and hawkers were absent. No surprise really, as word of Caesar’s deadline with the Helvetii had leaked out almost immediately. Surely the townsfolk couldn’t be worried about the Helvetii. They must know that no tribe could walk through such defences, held by three legions. Indeed, the increase in the local military presence had heralded a boom time for many of the local merchants and shop-keepers. The problem was that the people of Geneva were aware of the distinct possibility that, once Caesar had his victory, he would take most of the army and head south, leaving Geneva open to revenge attacks. It was a reasonable assumption in the circumstances, and Fronto could quite understand the people not wanting to be seen to be a part of this.

At the north gate, Balbus and Fronto were the first to arrive. The two stood for a moment, enjoying the morning. The temperature had improved dramatically over the last two days, and spring appeared finally to have arrived. Perfect soldiering weather, Balbus had called it. Not cold enough to discomfort the troops, but not hot enough to exhaust them. The ground was hard, but dry, which looked good for military action.

They stood in silence for five minutes, watching the Eighth Legion moving around the near end of the defensive embankment, and admiring the beauty of the landscape beyond.

The sound of hoof beats brought them back to the task at hand. Caesar came at a trot along the main street of the town; Longinus and Sabinus, one of the staff officers, behind him among a knot of other staff. Fronto and Balbus saluted as the general arrived and then fell into step alongside the other officers.

The gathering of officers left the town with Caesar at the head on his white charger and the rest behind, a glimmer of red, burnished bronze and polished steel. The group passed down from the gate, along the shore of the lake and to the redoubt that had been constructed under Fronto’s guidance near the end of the bridge that had been dismantled.

Once at the fortification, the officers were admitted by the soldiers of the Eighth that were already in position. Balbus nodded at the centurion in charge, who replied with a bow.

Caesar made his way to the centre of the redoubt and dismounted, an optio of the Eighth rushing to help him. Climbing onto a raised stand, the general looked down at his officers.

“
You are all aware that the Helvetii will likely be returning today. We have no way to tell when, and they may even be a day or two late. Thus the army will have to wait in position and we, gentlemen, will stay at this fortification for the duration. Scouts have been placed so we will have at least an hour’s warning of the enemy’s arrival.”

The general then turned to Longinus. “I want dispatch riders ready at this place to warn all the legions as soon as the Helvetii are on the move. I also want a horse brought for Fronto. Marcus, you’re going to need to be highly mobile during this action, present among all the legions and being my eyes and ears and controlling the strategy of the army.”

In a louder voice, so as to be heard by the officers and all the men of the Eighth stationed close to the lake, Caesar called “and now we wait. Look to your comrades and to your arms. Remember that you are Roman, and that Rome stands in need of you now. They are barbarians, and barbarians will never again trample the soil of our lands beneath their stinking boots. Jupiter and Mars protect the men of the Eighth and of the other great legions here today, serving Rome!”

A cheer rose around the redoubt, rippled along the length of the wall and into the distance like a wave. Fronto smiled. ‘This is what he’s good at’ he thought. ‘This is why he’s a great leader, not just a great strategist.’ Even Fronto’s blood was pumping now, and he sensed the eagerness around him. Even that donkey Longinus had his sword out and was inspecting the edge. A swell of pride flowed through the legate. He was Roman, as were all the men around him, and if the mountains themselves moved against the wall, the legions would hold them back.

* * * * *

Velius stood on the raised platform behind the palisade and looked along the wall toward the lake. That would probably be where they hit first. They might even be fighting for control of that now. With the lake being eight or nine miles away, he couldn’t see anything but quiet and peaceful countryside. The word had come down with a rider ten minutes ago that Caesar had refused access to the Helvetii and that they had threatened the Eighth before pulling back and gathering the tribe. Velius couldn’t believe that in the face of such defences any army would try to take them, let alone a bunch of unwashed, hairy barbarians. The officers seemed to think they would come, and they should know their business. Still, Fronto had said that he’d try and spend as much time as possible with the two new legions, and Velius wished that he’d hurry up and get here.