Balbus shook his head and wrenched the spear from the turf, slamming it back in inches from Fronto’s foot.
“Use your eyes man.”
Fronto leaned forward, making a close examination of the spear. It was a normal, ordinary, dull cavalry spear.
Except for the marks.
The marks.
He bent his head closer.
“What the hell are they?”
Balbus shrugged.
“My guess is some kind of Gaulish markings, maybe religious, or political, or even just a curse or something. I didn’t want to take it to one of Longinus’ Gaulish men; after all, we don’t want to alert the man that we’re on to him. I have a couple of men in the Eighth that can speak their language with reasonable skill; the result of being stationed in Transalpine Gaul for so long. I do remember seeing marks similar to that though, carved or painted in various places like graffiti.”
Fronto smiled.
“So we want to find out what it says, and maybe see if we can find the matching one of the pair among Longinus’ men.”
Balbus nodded and, once more, pulled the spear from the ground.
“I’ll speak to a couple of people about it tonight while things are quieter.”
Fronto smiled.
“Thanks, Quintus. We’ve got to get this psychopath. Can’t have Gaulish assassins hiding in the legions.”
The two clasped hands and then went their separate ways.
* * * * *
Aulus Ingenuus was a lesser cavalry officer, a decurion, who had volunteered for this duty because it got him out in the open. Who could have preferred to be back in that hollow with the choking smoke of burning flesh filling his throat and making him gag? Better by far to be out here, even if it meant the danger of meeting the Helvetii, and the constant smell of Gaulish auxiliaries who seemed unable to grasp the most rudimentary concepts of bathing.
Six regular legionary cavalry decurions had been chosen to keep the auxiliaries in line during this morning’s pursuit and reconnaissance mission. Obviously, most of the regulars, including the true cavalry prefects, were back in the dip, respectfully choking in the smoke of that centurion from the Tenth. The Auxilia had no such restraints placed on them and had been assigned this morning’s duties. It was Ingenuus’ first chance at an independent command. Six alae of cavalry, numbering five hundred men apiece, commanded each by a regular officer, temporarily filling in as a prefect.
With the way Caesar’s cavalry contingent was expanding on a weekly basis, Ingenuus was looking forward to speedy promotion, and taking every opportunity to command and to shoulder responsibility would be a helpful step in that direction.
The day was bright and clear, and the yellow globe hanging mildly over the horizon promised a warm afternoon. The smell of flowers, grass and all the Magna Mater’s bounteous gifts assailed him. Today was a good day to be alive.
He had drawn the Fourth Ala that rode along the eastern side of the valley floor, heading toward a crest where the ground fell away and beyond which would be the Helvetii. The Fifth, slightly further east, rode parallel with them along the ridge and somewhere out of sight beyond them would be the Sixth. The First, Second and Third mirrored their positions off to the west.
The auxiliary units had already had Gaulish officers assigned earlier by the high command, to aid the cavalry prefects, and Ingenuus suspected they resented young Roman junior officers being placed in such supervisory roles. On the other hand, he thought, eyeing the well-bred and well-dressed Aedui officer of whom he had taken control, the man had reacted well and had followed his orders swiftly and efficiently ever since. Perhaps these Gaulish allies weren’t the barbarous monkeys the regular officers seemed to regard them as.
He glanced over to the west, where the Second Ala rode in relatively good formation along the ridge at the other side of the valley. They seemed to be moving quite fast. Scanning around and behind him, suddenly alarmed that the cavalry may be under pursuit by enemy forces, he could see nothing untoward. The Third Ala was ahead; further ahead than anyone should be. They should be on the valley floor, keeping pace with Ingenuus’ men. In fact, the Third were far enough ahead they were at the crest and must be clearly within sight of the Helvetii. What in the name of Jupiter were they doing? Motioning the Fourth to pick up the pace, he began to race after the stray unit.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted; not what he’d expected. He’d taken command this morning because it had promised to be a nice easy reconnaissance mission. Now there were units breaking formation. The Third seemed to be determined to reach and engage the enemy on their own. They had disappeared over the crest of the hill almost a minute ago, and the closest pursuing unit, the Second, had almost reached the saddleback now.
Swallowing his fear, Ingenuus began giving orders to the auxiliaries. The unit moved into a spearhead formation, the best tactic he could think of, not knowing what he was facing.
Moments later, the Second were wheeling their horses and turning. Had the Third found the trouble they were so obviously looking for? Faced with his first critical command decision, Ingenuus dithered. What to do? Should he form up with the rest of the cavalry in the valley? But if he did and the Third had run into trouble out of sight ahead, then they would be abandoning half a thousand men to their fate. Whatever else the young cavalry commander could be accused of, including foolhardiness, he would never be accused of leaving fellow soldiers to die for the sake of his own skin.
With a sigh of resignation, he gave the order to charge. Breaking into a gallop, he heard the hooves of the entire unit keeping pace with him. He daren’t turn round for fear of losing his nerve. He had no idea what awaited them over the ridge, and charged on blindly.
The Fourth had crossed the ridge and hit the enemy square on before they were aware of what was happening. With an efficiency that surprised Ingenuus and would have made his commander proud, he had begun swinging with his sword and manoeuvring his horse automatically, his mind still trying to comprehend what had happened. Signalling his unit to rally round him, he made for a small raised mound in the valley and surveyed the battlefield.
The Third Ala had obviously launched straight into the Helvetian cavalry with some force. They were now surrounded by the enemy, and were being systematically driven back and cut down. Ingenuus could see around half of the unit making its way as best it could toward the edge, making a break for freedom and the Roman force a few miles away.
There weren’t that many of the Helvetian cavalry, but the terrain was definitely with them, and the rest of the tribe stood patiently, waiting behind them to mop up anything their cavalry couldn’t finish. Time was running short. As he glanced around, he could see that the tribe were slowly whittling down the numbers around him. The auxiliary cavalry were fighting as hard as they could, but without the discipline of the regular legionary cavalry beside them, they were far too disorganised.
As he watched, one of his unit accidentally speared another, mistaking him for the enemy in the press. There was no hope here; they had to pull out. He glanced up the slope to the crest of the saddle. The other four officers in charge of the alae had drawn them up in a line on the hill. While Ingenuus had committed himself to saving as many of the Third Ala as he could, his peers had decided to maintain distance as per Longinus’ orders and would not risk getting tangled in the melee. He was on his own, like that poor bastard who’d led the Third in. Damn his choice of duties! Today was no day to be in command of a cavalry ala. With a shout, he called his second in command, a warrior of the Aedui tribe with a good grasp of Latin, to him.
“Take the Fourth back out as fast as you can and join up with the other alae on the hill. There’s a couple of hundred survivors from the Third that got out safely. Hook up with them and get back to the army as soon as you can. Report to the legate.”
The Aedui warrior frowned.
“What will you do, sir?”
Ingenuus pushed the fear and dread deep down inside and locked it
in behind a manic grin.
“I’m going to take a dozen or so men and try to get to the rest of the Third over there.”
He pointed deep into the Helvetian melee.
“With any luck it’ll distract them enough to give you time to get away and up the hill.”
The warrior nodded and called a retreat in Latin to the Fourth. The auxiliaries surged towards the rear, catching the Helvetii by surprise though still losing men as they ploughed their way toward freedom.
Signalling to a few of the troopers around him, Ingenuus pushed on deep into the throng. Eleven men followed him, madly battering the Helvetii with swords and spears, trying not for kills, but to create enough room to manoeuvre.
A minute later he and the eight surviving auxiliaries who had made it through, burst out of the mass of Helvetian cavalry, and into the open space separating them from the waiting infantry. Not far off to his left, he could see a Roman cavalry banner waving defiantly above the press of horsemen. Wheeling his mount, he began to gallop along the clear ground, his eight companions staying close.
As soon as he judged they were level with the entrapped Third, he turned and began to plough his way back into the enemy cavalry, swinging in wild figure-eights with his long cavalry blade. Five of his companions made it back in to the melee, the others being brought down with long spears or vicious Celtic swords while they turned.
Looking ahead, he could see the Third, such as it now was, only ten yards ahead of him. There were little more than a dozen of them. He could see the Roman officer, bathed in blood, swinging his sword madly with his left hand, his right clenched tightly to his side where Ingenuus could make out, even at this distance, a number of wounds in the blood-drenched tunic.
Shouting a defiant cry in the face of the Helvetii and invoking the protection of Jupiter and of Mars, he pushed forward, painfully aware of wounds he was now receiving and the loss of another of his companions. Moments before he was unhorsed and disappeared under the press of the enemy, he saw the commander of the Third also disappear from sight.
On the crest of the hill, the senior of the four officers shook his head sadly, watching perhaps three hundred men make their painful way up the hill, leaving near seven hundred dead and dying in the valley. With the briefest of signals, he led the entire cavalry contingent back towards the legions.
* * * * *
News of the cavalry’s return had spread among the senior officers before the first ala appeared over the distant hills. Longinus had ridden out to the highest point close to the marching legions, and Fronto, Balbus and Crispus had joined him. Caesar had remained in the Vanguard, leaving cavalry matters to Longinus.
Fronto reined his horse in next to Balbus.
“What the hell d’you think’s happened? They’ve only been out for a couple of hours.”
Balbus shrugged.
“I really don’t know, but they had no senior officers out there, and only six regular soldiers altogether. Perhaps the auxiliaries panicked and fled. It’s been known to happen.”
As the four remaining cavalry alae formed up on the slope below their commander, the remnants of the Third and Fourth formed under their Gaulish officers, neither of the regulars having made it back. The two Aedui rode out proudly alongside the four Roman regulars to report to Longinus.
As a mark of respect, the other three legates sat astride their horses a few paces behind Longinus as he received the commanders.
The senior of the cavalry decurions stepped his horse slightly forward and saluted Longinus.
“I beg to report the loss of a number of cavalrymen, sir.”
Longinus frowned, his displeasure plastered across his face.
“You had strict orders to follow and watch and not to become involved, and yet you bring our forces back with the best part of a thousand men missing? This is not a ‘loss’, decurion. This is a debacle. Who is responsible?”
The Aedui officer in charge of the Third Ala stepped forward.
“Sir, the commander assigned to our unit came across the enemy and ordered a charge. The other units were not close enough to support us. By the time we were deep among the enemy, the commander ordered as many of us as possible to pull out and regroup with the others.”
A moment later the Aedui officer of the Fourth joined them.
“Sir, our commander ordered a charge to try and rescue the Third. When he realised it wouldn’t work, he tried to get us clear while he and a dozen others went on to try and reach the survivors.”
Longinus glared at the two Gauls for long moments while he mulled over the information.
“You are all dismissed. Fall in alongside the Ninth in your assigned positions. You.”
He pointed at the remains of the Third and Fourth Alae.
“You are now all assigned to the Fourth. Report to the prefect of the Fourth and form up with him. Find the prefect of the Third and send him to me.”
He turned to face the other legates as soon as the cavalry moved off.
“I’m going to have to send the regulars out under the circumstances. Could I prevail on you three for your opinions of that?” He stressed the last word with distaste and gestured in the direction of the disappearing cavalry alae.
The three looked at each other and, after several shrugs, Fronto sighed.
“I don’t like to think that one of our regulars would take such a stupid action in the face of the enemy, but they were all juniors, and juniors are capable of the most surprising strokes of genius and stupidity alike. You sort the cavalry out, Longinus. I’ll go and figure out how to report this to Caesar with the best possible angle. Don’t be too hard on the Fourth. Sounds like they tried to pull off a hell of a heroic rescue to me. It’s just a shame it didn’t work.”
Longinus sighed.
“There’s often a fine line between heroic and insane, Fronto, but I see your point.”
It was around an hour after sunset when Fronto was shaken awake by Priscus.
“Come on sir, get up.”
Blearily, Fronto grasped the scarf around the primus pilus’ neck by the knot and pulled the man down to within an inch of his face.
“This had better be important, Gnaeus.”
Priscus pulled his head back, wrenching the scarf out of Fronto’s grip.
“Oh, important like you wouldn’t believe, sir.”
As Fronto rose and struggled into his tunic and breeches, he rubbed his eyes and wearily questioned Priscus.
“What is it, then?”
“Let’s keep that as a surprise, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of having legate Balbus awakened too.”
Fronto stopped for a moment and frowned quizzically at his senior centurion.
“Alright then. Let’s go.”
Priscus led the two of them away from the command quarters of the Tenth and down the slope to the freshly-dug trenches that formed the outer ramparts of the marching camp.
A small knot of people stood near the corner of the ramp and ditch. As they got closer, Fronto identified Balbus. Others he didn’t know, but he spotted a couple of medical personnel there.
Arriving at the corner, he could see that the two medical officers and two tired-looking capsarii were tending five wounded cavalrymen. The men were under the guard of several of the Tenth’s legionaries who had been posted at the ditch.
Balbus hurried to join Fronto as he approached.
“What on Earth is going on? My adjutant woke me at this unreasonable hour on the authority of the legate of the Tenth.”
Fronto glanced at Priscus, who grinned back, smugly.
It irritated Fronto to see that Balbus was immaculately turned out in his full dress and armour, whereas he himself looked like an off-duty legionary who’d been hauled out of a trench. One of the guards approached the two legates and saluted.
“These five came through the picket line about a quarter of an hour ago, sir. They were creeping around and bumped into us. When we challenged them, they gave the correct password and ask
ed for the legate of the Ninth before the leader passed out in the ditch.”
Balbus cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered to Fronto.
“That’s a cavalry officer’s uniform. Looks like one of the regulars got back from that attack alive after all.”
Priscus, standing close enough to listen in, said
“Look again, sir. Two cavalry officers.”
Sure enough, the second officer was there, lying drenched in blood and blessedly unconscious in the hole.
Fronto stepped to the edge of the ditch, gesturing at the officer who was on his feet.
“You! Name and unit.”
The officer staggered, trying to pull himself to attention, despite a number of wounds that obviously hampered his movement.
“Sir. I beg leave to report to legate Longinus.”
“You can speak to legate Longinus when you’ve finished here. As a staff officer, I represent Caesar himself. Now report.”
The officer sighed a weary sigh.
“Aulus Ingenuus, sir: decurion of the Ninth Legion, acting prefect of the Fourth Ala of auxiliary cavalry.”
Fronto barely blinked.
“And your fellow officer?”
“I don’t know his name sir, but he’s the acting prefect of the Third Ala sir.”
Fronto relaxed his shoulders and dropped to a crouch.
“Alright soldier, at ease. I think you’d better tell me everything.”
As the medics worked quietly and efficiently, Ingenuus retold the sad tale of the events of earlier that day. By the time he had reached the end of the engagement, the medics had finished with the criss-cross of vicious wounds he had received, and taken the mammoth task of saving the other officer out of the hands of the capsarius.
“Anyway, sir, there were little more than a dozen of us. Once we’d been unhorsed, there was little chance of fighting back, so we stayed down and played dead. I realise that’s not very honourable sir, but we thought it would be more important that we get back than taking down maybe a couple more. Unfortunately half of us died when the Helvetian cavalry moved out. Trampled beneath the horses. Since then we’ve been trying to get back to the legions without bumping into the Helvetii again.”
Marius' Mules Page 16