Marius' Mules

by S. J. A. Turney

  “You’re being needlessly cryptic, Balbus.”

  “Alright General, here’s what I think: You and your campaign have been endangered by the failure of morale in your army. If things get any worse, you could find that you’re facing the entire German army with only a dozen men.”

  Caesar nodded.

  “I realise the peril, but I won’t flee.”

  Balbus shook his head, smiling.

  “I’m not suggesting you flee, Caesar. The question is, who stands to gain from a collapse in your army here in Gaul?”

  A frown.

  “Ariovistus. The Gauls in a way, I suppose.”

  A thought struck him and he looked up at Balbus sharply.

  “My rivals and enemies in Rome!”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  His headache all but forgotten, Caesar leaned forward.

  “Do you really think the conspiracy that Fronto unearthed stretches this far?”

  “Far sir? No distance at all. If, as the Gaul said to Fronto, the conspiracy spread through the Roman ranks as well as the Gauls, the conspirators will have come with us. This current situation has come down from the higher ranks, and you realise what that means?”

  Caesar nodded again.

  “The tribunes. They’re all high-born Romans. I’ve got around fifty tribunes attached to the army, along with other staff officers. How many owe their patronage to me? I wonder if there are clients of my opposition among them. I can’t bring myself to suspect any of my more senior officers. They’d have too much to lose.”

  Balbus nodded.

  “I tend to agree, Caesar. Even Crassus I would think above that. What we need is to watch all the officers who try to get out of here. I’d be pretty sure that any conspirator who tried to leave you high and dry wouldn’t stick around to share in the consequences.”

  “Hmm. I’ve already had a number of officers call on me requesting permission to vacate the city. So far I’ve refused them all. I think I need to speak directly to the centurions of the legions. We’ll gather them together and I’ll go over the heads of the tribunes and legates. If we can shame the army into fighting, it doesn’t matter what the officers do. I shaln’t let any of them flee, but anyone who tries will be noted. Any officer who doesn’t feel he can fight in the front line will be assigned temporarily to my staff. They’re not getting away that easily.”

  Balbus nodded.

  “I would suggest that you keep your personal guard close and prepared. Keep an eye on all your officers.”

  “I shall, Balbus. I shall. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and I hope we can resolve it. I think you need to get back to the Eighth and have them fall in.”

  “Sir.”

  Balbus left, wandering out of the building and down the main street. As he passed the corner of the side street with the tavern on, he spotted Tetricus coming the other way.

  “Tribune.”

  “Sir.”

  “Has Priscus finished with the Tenth already?”

  Tetricus nodded.

  “No nonsense. Cut the deadwood away and promoted a few good men to replace them. I don’t think we’ll have much of a problem now. If you don’t mind me asking sir, what are you planning to do with the Eighth?”

  Balbus smiled at the tribune.

  “I don’t really have much choice, do I? I either do the same as Priscus or I watch the Eighth slide into rebellion. I’ve got to do something before Balventius takes matters into his own hands like your primus pilus did. Priscus dismissed the chaff. Balventius would probably gut them. He’s not very subtle.”

  Tetricus lowered his voice.

  “Could I ask that any tribunes you get rid of be pointed in my direction up on the hill sir?”

  “If you like. Why?”

  “I’m doing a little investigating to try and find out where these rumours came from.”

  Balbus frowned.

  “That’s good, but be very careful. There’s something deep and dark afoot here. You’ll have been back in Geneva at the time, but there was at least one assassination attempt on Fronto and one insurrection among the cavalry. This goes much deeper than a little rumour mongering. Fronto trusts you, and that’s good enough for me, so anything you can find out would be most welcome but don’t push anything too much in case it pushes back. As soon as you have anything to go on, call Priscus and myself and we’ll all go and see Caesar.”

  Tetricus nodded again.

  “I’ll do that, sir.”

  They became slowly aware that someone was running up the street towards them shouting “Legate Balbus!”

  Balbus squinted and saw an optio heading for them. As the man reached the crossroads he pulled himself to attention, exhausted from the climb though he was. Tetricus recognised him as one of the men from the Tenth’s command tent earlier.

  “Legionary, what’s all this row?”

  The man straightened and grinned.

  “Message from centurion Priscus for you both sir. Riders have just entered the camp carrying news of Fronto and the Second Cohort. They’re alive and are on the way here.”

  Balbus let out a slow sigh.

  “Thank the Gods for that. Best get back to your unit, optio.”

  As the man ran off, he turned to Tetricus.

  “I’ll no doubt see you later, tribune. I’d best get along to the Eighth and talk to them before Caesar does.”

  * * * * *

  The dell was filled with centurions. Balbus knew, of course, how many centurions a legion actually had, but you never saw them all together. Sixty grizzled veterans from the Eighth stood at ease, watching the tribunal. With the other five legions’ centurions, excepting the Tenth’s Second Cohort that was still racing the Germans to Vesontio, there would still be nearly three hundred officers here, waiting to hear what the army’s commander had to say.

  Caesar had initially wanted to organise a private meeting at the citadel or in one of the camps, but Balbus had had to point out that nowhere was the General going to be able to have a ‘private’ meeting with three hundred centurions. And so here they were, three miles from the city in a clearing with only the centurions, a few senior officers and a small group of Caesar’s Praetorians.

  Balbus stood on the far left of the temporary tribunal, next to Tetricus and Crispus. More tribunes stood to the other side. Of Crassus or the other commanders there was no sign. Perhaps he had taken Caesar’s decision to speak directly to the troops as a personal dig. Balbus hoped so. The thought of it brought a smile to his face.

  The centurions of the six legions glittered in the dappled sunlight of the clearing. It would be warm for them, crammed in like this in such hot sun, with the trees around them preventing even the slightest of breezes. Balbus continually wiped his own brow, and he was standing high on the podium with room to breathe.

  There was, as he’d expected, the continual murmur of conversation among the veterans.

  A creak on the wooden steps behind Balbus caused him to turn. Caesar, with Sabinus at his shoulder, climbed onto the platform. The General walked to the front rail and held out his arm in an age-old gesture. In other circumstances, Balbus would expect a roar from the crowd to greet such a gesture. Not now. Caesar leaned on the rail with his left hand and addressed the crowd of centurions.

  “The Germans are men. Barbarians, yes. They may be tall and vicious, but they are just men. We’ve defeated men before. We’ve even defeated Germans before. Gaius Marius himself fought the Cimbri and the Teutones and brought them to their knees and his army was less powerful than this one.”

  A dramatic pause followed. Caesar turned his head and gave Balbus a knowing half-smile. He probably thought that the silence among the crowd was a good thing: soldiers ashamed, contemplating their own failures. Balbus knew otherwise. He knew the common centurionate. What they were doing was waiting for the General to finish before they made any kind of decision or reaction.

  Caesar turned back to the crowd.

  “The Helveti
i have stood between Rome and the German tribes for a long time. They have fought and defeated the Germans repeatedly for centuries, and we beat the Helvetii. Rome is the master on the battlefield and you must all know this. We have beaten the best, so the Germans hold no fear for me.”

  Another pause and another half-smile. Balbus hoped to the Gods that Caesar wasn’t willing to push them too far. The centurionate held far more loyalty to their units than to Caesar right now and an insurrection by the centurions would be worse by far than anything rumour-mongering tribunes could manage.

  “Do not panic about being caught like rats. When the time comes for us to fight Ariovistus, we will do it in the field like we were trained to. We have full supplies and a good source for more if we need it. The local Gaulish tribes have all agreed to aid us. We have everything we need. Do not tell me that what we lack is fighting spirit!”

  The last line was delivered with a thumping of his fist on the front rail of the tribunal. Again there was silence. This time, as Caesar turned to look at Balbus, his face betrayed the first hint of worry. A voice from deep in the centre of the crowd called out.

  “What if we do have a good fighting spirit? We can only keep the men in line if there are good examples set from above. Senior officers are trying to leave. How does that look to the men? If we all stand and march on the Germans with you, can we guarantee that the soldiers will go?”

  Caesar leaned forward on the rail.

  “Are you suggesting that one of these legions would actually revolt? That’s unthinkable! These are the greatest force in the Empire. If they lack spirit, we must give them it back. You must give them it back, for it’s to the centurions that they look, not to tribunes or staff officers. Spirit is what matters. The slaves’ revolt ravaged Italy twenty years ago and nearly broke legions in their path. They were slaves! How did slaves manage such power? Because they had spirit. There is no reason for the troops to fear or cower, or even to have reservations. We will defeat the Germans. Tonight we will ride out to meet Ariovistus. I will break camp and the officers will go with me. We will see how many men cower in their camp then.”

  Balbus shook his head gently. Caesar was playing a dangerous game.

  The General scanned the crowd for a moment until his eyes fell on Priscus.

  “Centurion Priscus. Are the Tenth stood to?”

  Priscus moved out of the crowd to the front.

  “Aye General, the Tenth are ready.”

  He turned to face the crowd.

  “Officers of the Tenth to the front!”

  In perfect military order, fifty three men stepped out of the crowd and lined up behind Priscus, their backs straight and their vine staves under their arms. Caesar smiled.

  “Are your men ready for a fight?”

  Priscus grinned.

  “The Tenth are always ready for a fight, sir!”

  “And do you not worry about cowardice or reluctance in your legion, Priscus?”

  The grin widened.

  “No General. Got rid of ‘em all sir. Won’t have cowards in my legion.”

  Caesar straightened again and addressed the crowd.

  “The Tenth have always been stalwart and I have always placed my trust in them. If morale fails among your men, I would go with just the Tenth in place of my Praetorian Cohort and we would still beat the Germans. Can any of you match the Tenth?”

  There was a great deal of muttering among the centurions. Again, Balbus wondered whether Caesar had provoked them a little too much. To shame the centurionate was a dangerous move. He became aware of a small knot of centurions moving through the crowd.

  Balventius reached the front and turned his one good eye to Priscus. He nodded professionally at him and then stood to attention facing Caesar.

  “The Eighth will be ready to move out by nightfall, General.”

  Without turning, he called out loudly.

  “Officers of the Eighth!”

  The half dozen men that had accompanied him through the crowd fell in beside him and the rest of the Eighth’s centurions made their way from the crowd to the front.

  Crispus coughed politely behind Caesar, who turned and raised an eyebrow.

  “May I, sir?”

  Caesar hesitated for a moment and then nodded, stepping aside for the young man. Balbus smiled as the young legate approached the rail. He liked Crispus a great deal.

  “Where are the Eleventh? I realise that your soldiers are relatively new to military endeavours but you, their centurions, are all veterans. Can I believe that the legion who defended the flank at Bibracte and saved the army’s posterior are unwilling to stand with me now?”

  A centurion somewhere at the back began to push his way forward. Once he reached the open space at the front, where the Eighth and Tenth stood, he addressed his commander.

  “Legate, I and many others will stand with you as always. I cannot guarantee the men, though. We are a young legion; the officers are drawn from other units and have only worked together for a few months. It is hard to appeal to a unifying spirit in such conditions. We will return to camp and call out the whole legion when we leave here. If you would care to join us, sir, I believe that your presence would help give heart to your men.”

  Crispus nodded.

  “Very well. I will join you presently.”

  As Crispus stepped back, Balbus caught him.

  “Well done lad. He’s right about the nature of the Eleventh, but they’re rapidly becoming a proper force, and a lot of that’s down to you. They’ll march out tonight. I think all the legions will apart, maybe, from the Seventh.”

  Caesar once more took the rail.

  “Go then. Go to your men and prepare them for the off.”

  With one last salute, the General turned and climbed back down the steps, followed by Sabinus and the other officers. As they walked back along the forest road, Caesar’s Praetorians ahead and behind and along the road verge, Sabinus beckoned to Balbus and Crispus. The two jogged ahead and caught up with the General and Sabinus. The four of them walked in a small knot well ahead of the rest. Caesar turned to Balbus.

  “Quintus, I still worry about the men. Perhaps it has gone too deep now?”

  Balbus shook his head.

  “You heard the Tenth and the Eighth, sir.”

  “Yes, but I bluff, Quintus. I couldn’t go to face Ariovistus with only the two, no matter how good they are.”

  He noticed Crispus.

  “Even three. I need them all. Every last son of Rome. What do I do if I can’t count on them?”

  Balbus shrugged.

  “Try. All we can do is try. I don’t think the legions will fail you, sir.”

  Crispus shook his head.

  “Nor I, General. Nonetheless I do have a suggestion for you.”

  Caesar frowned.

  “Go on.”

  “Diplomacy. Give the legions the leisure to come to terms with facing the German horde. Let them behold the Germans and they will undoubtedly arrive at the conclusion that Ariovistus’ forces are merely men after all.”

  The General’s frown deepened.

  “I don’t want diplomacy any more. I want that German’s head on a pilum standing outside my headquarters.”

  Crispus’ eyes narrowed.

  “You do not desire diplomacy, and yet you do crave a killing mood among your men, yes?”

  Caesar nodded in irritation.

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Then you could use diplomacy to create an incident.”

  “What?”

  “You could do something to incense Ariovistus. Provoke him into making a move that will inflame the legions. In one fell swoop you would have the homicidal tendency among your men and your excuse for battle.”

  Caesar’s frown slowly metamorphosed into a smile.

  “Balbus, Sabinus? What do you think?”

  “It should work, Caesar. The legions hate thinking that barbarians have one up on them. Legions might be with you on the march, but that does
n’t mean they’d follow you into battle. If you gave them a reason to hate and resent the Germans, then you’d have your army.”

  Caesar nodded.

  “Very well, I’ll have a think on the matter and see if I can come up with anything useful. If any of you have a notion, let me know. For now I intend to head to the Citadel and gather everything up. We’re moving out tonight.”

  Balbus looked around the path, wondering where Tetricus had gone. He finally spotted him way behind the column of Caesar’s staff, walking with the front number of centurions. He smiled as he recognised Priscus and Balventius among the number. Bidding good day to the others, he stepped to the side of the track and waited for the centurions to catch up.

  Tetricus saw Balbus and nodded to Priscus. The two of them jogged out ahead and met the legate of the Eighth.

  “We need to talk, legate.”

  Balbus raised his eyebrows.

  “Very well, what about?”

  Tetricus frowned.

  “Let’s step aside and let the army pass by. I think we need a little privacy for this.”

  The three walked a few yards into the woods and watched as the collective centurionate of six legions walked past. Once they had gone and the only sound was the twittering of birds and the hum of bees, Balbus straightened his back.

  “Alright, what’s up, tribune?”

  “Do you remember a tribune called Salonius from the Ninth?”

  “Salonius? No. Should I?”

  Tetricus sighed.

  “I shouldn’t think so. I don’t remember him either, but it seems he’s been very vocal recently on the subject of Caesar and the Germans. I gather he’s also been seen among the other legions at camp. I wanted to get hold of him and ask him a few direct questions, but no one’s seen him for two days now. Odd that, isn’t it?”

  Priscus and Balbus looked at each other and then back at Tetricus.

  “Salonius. A tribune from the Ninth. Before we go to Caesar with this, I want to find Longinus. He’s going to know a thing or two about this man. I want to be sure and fully armed with details before I accuse a tribune of anything like this. Nice work, Tetricus. Stay with Priscus. Once I’ve found Longinus I’ll come back to you. I don’t want to rush into anything.”