Marius' Mules

by S. J. A. Turney

  Caesar smiled.

  “Yes Crispus, I’ve thought of that. There are around four thousand men still there, two cohorts from each legion. They should make a good show of it and, if Ariovistus decides to try and retreat that way there will be a force to prevent him.”

  By now a number of the men attending the funeral on the field had noticed the army on the move past them. Fronto looked around at Caesar.

  “Best tell them what’s happening.”

  Caesar nodded and stepped to the front of the platform. With them on the wall, Varus and Ingenuus wore grim expressions and at the front of the two legions stood their tribunes, twelve in all.

  “Tribunes, to the platform.”

  With much confusion and apprehension, the twelve men approached the pyre. Once they had struggled up the bank, they came to attention in front of the senior officers. Caesar looked along the line.

  “Gentlemen. The figures currently moving along the periphery of the field are your fellows from the Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Twelfth Legions, along with the rest of the cavalry and auxiliary units. They will enter this camp shortly and will stay out the rest of the night here with you once the pyre burns down. In the morning, we will be moving on Ariovistus and battle will commence. Return to your legions and inform the centurions of this.”

  The tribunes and prefects saluted the General, the tribunes with looks of eager anticipation, the two cavalry prefects with grim satisfaction.

  “Go now.”

  As they made their way down the grassy slope to the troops below, Fronto stepped toward Caesar again.

  “Are the other legions properly informed or still in the dark?”

  “I sent a courier out to them hours ago. Balbus, Rufus and Galba have had their orders delivered and should have addressed their troops. The pyre should be starting to collapse in less than half an hour. Once that happens, dismiss the troops and send them to their tents. The legates, prefects and primus pilus of each legion will join me in the praetorium for a command briefing. I’m going now to meet the commanders when they reach the camp and give further orders.”

  Fronto nodded unhappily. He could understand the tactical advantage of all this, but it seemed dishonourable to use the funeral of a well-respected Roman nobleman to pull the wool over the enemy’s eyes.

  Fronto stood side by side with Crispus and Crassus as Caesar left the platform, staring at the burning timbers and the leaping flames now entirely obscuring the body. Ahead of them, spread out across the grass, the men of the legions stood silent, watching the last moments of the commander.

  Less than an hour later, the troops had been dismissed for the night and twenty five men sat around the edges of the large tent at the praetorium of the camp. Caesar entered last and walked through the officers to the empty campaign chair.

  “I see we’re all here now. Good.”

  He looked around. Fronto sat with Balbus and Crispus with Varus and Ingenuus close by. Crassus stood with the staff. The beam of self-satisfied smugness on his face irritated the General and he could see the rift between his senior officers widening by the minute. Something would have to be done to bring Crassus down to the level of everyone else, and yet without provoking his father into withdrawing support. He sighed.

  “Very well. Firstly, due to the recent morale problems among the legions and the need to give them as much support as possible, each of my senior staff will be taking a position with the legions and the cavalry tomorrow. No one will stay behind safe and sound.”

  There was a general rumble of assent from the officers.

  “I will assign my staff after the briefing. They will act as lieutenants for the legions’ current commanders. The cavalry will be split into two wings. Publius Crassus will command the left wing and I will personally command the right.”

  The General became aware of unhappy grumbling among some groups, so he pressed on before anyone could speak.

  “I have not yet decided who will take a more permanent control of the cavalry. Crassus and I will control a wing each tomorrow and both of us will have the close support of three regular cavalry prefects. When tomorrow is done with, I will consider the question more closely.”

  He glanced around. The grumbling had died away, but the silence that replaced it was equally filled with distrust and discontent.

  “In respect of the infantry, the six legions will all commit side by side, advancing in three lines as per our previous engagements. The first two lines will carry out the attack, with the third in reserve to support any weak area. I will leave it to individual command units of the legions, though I would recommend that the legate moves with the first and second lines, while his lieutenant remains behind the second line, with the third. Again, that is your decision. Officers who are stationed at the rear will be able to identify weak spots and draw support from the third line.”

  “The non-mounted Auxilia will be split into six groups, each with one of my staff to command and each assigned to a legion. They will move with the legions, though the exact nature of their placement I will leave to the commanders of the units involved. The only men left behind here will be the actuarii, the quartermasters, the medical units and a small guard to protect them and the pay chests.”

  Nods and murmurs of approval.

  “At first light, the troops will come to order within the defences and will then cross into the field, falling into position as fast as this can be achieved. As soon as the last unit is in place, we will move on the German camp at a steady field march. I hope to draw them out rather than fight them across their defences, but if they are still reluctant I will press them. I intend for this to end tomorrow. If Fortuna is with us, they will be surprised at the size of the force on this side and will be badly prepared. Does anyone have anything to add, ask or suggest?”

  The room stood silent for a moment before Ingenuus raised his hand.

  “Caesar, I would like to formally request assignment to the right wing.”

  The General nodded, entirely prepared for this,

  “I understand. Granted. Do I presume the same request goes for you, prefect Varus?”

  Varus shook his head.

  “My unit and the others that have seen action under my command work best on the left wing. It would be foolhardy to ignore the benefits of their experience for the sake of a grudge.”

  Crassus looked up sharply and then nodded.

  “He’s right General. I do not have a great deal of experience at cavalry command and having an officer who knows the strategy of a left wing offensive would be invaluable.”

  Caesar smiled.

  “Then I hope you’re both very successful.”

  Balbus coughed and gestured to the General.

  “What about the artillery? Are we leaving them on the wall here or are we going to try and take them with us?”

  The General raised his hands in a gesture of defeat.

  “I don’t see how we can realistically take them. We’ll be on the offensive and moving fast. I think we have to discount artillery support this time.”

  Balbus nodded.

  “If that’s all then, I suggest you retire to your units and get as much sleep as possible before dawn. It’s going to be a busy day, gentlemen.”

  The officers bowed as they left the tent, dispersing and heading back to their own men. Varus jogged and caught up with Balbus, Crispus and Fronto.

  “Pardon me for interrupting sirs, but I’m going back to the pyre. It’s still a long way off burning out and I’d like a chance to sit and drink a few toasts to him. Would any of you care to join me? I’ll understand if not; there’s not a lot of time left for sleep.”

  Fronto smiled at the cavalry prefect.

  “I’ll happily join you, Varus, so long as you can get the wine. I ran my stock dry earlier.”

  Balbus and Crispus glanced at each other. The younger of the two yawned and then smiled.

  “Oh who cares? If I’m this exhausted now, what difference can an extra hour
make? Count me in, and I do have almost a full chest of good wine. I’ll send someone for it.”

  The four of them made their way slowly to the now bare artillery platform upon which the embers of the pyre were burning down low, still warm and orange. Soon the detail would gather up the ashes and the bone fragments and put them in a ready-prepared funerary urn for transport back to Longinus’ family.

  Crispus looked over at Varus as they sat.

  “You held the commander in very high esteem, did you not?”

  The prefect nodded.

  “He was the man who assigned me as prefect of the Ninth’s cavalry while we were still in Spain. He’s been my commander ever since I joined the Ninth, and he always looked after the cavalry something special. He taught me everything I know about horse tactics.”

  Fronto smiled.

  “And I gather that’s quite extensive knowledge; I hear only good things. You’ll command the cavalry yet. Caesar would have passed it to you purely on Longinus’ recommendation if it weren’t for the all-glorious, sun-shines-out-of-my-arse Crassus and his father.”

  Varus laughed, as did the others. Balbus was first to straighten his expression.

  “You do realise, I presume, that Crassus is going to do something horribly wrong or stupid tomorrow. He doesn’t know the first thing about a cavalry battle and he has absolutely no respect for anyone below Senatorial level. I’d have preferred it if you’d taken Caesar’s offer and stayed on the right wing. Caesar is a good horseman and a good tactician.”

  Varus shook his head.

  “I need to be near Crassus. If anything’s going to go wrong, the cavalry are going to need someone they know and trust to put it right. I have to be there to make sure he doesn’t kill everyone in a mad rush for glory.”

  Fronto gestured to Crispus and pointed at Varus.

  “That’s what makes a good commander. The men should always come first.”

  Balbus shook his head sadly as he reached out for the jug of wine.

  “I don’t know, Marcus. I keep feeling it’s getting close to my time. Longinus was not far off half my age and look at him. I can’t afford to die out here in the field when my wife and daughters are back in Massilia waiting for me. I might see out this season and then give it up; become a gentleman of leisure. I own an extensive estate near Massilia, not to mention property in Rome and Campania.”

  Fronto smiled.

  “I hate the very idea of carrying out this campaign without you around, but I’m forced to agree. You’re a good friend and the only one of us who really has something that counts to go back to. I’d hate to have to visit Corvinia the way I’ll probably do for Longinus’ family. Do you realise I don’t even know whether he was married?”

  Balbus nodded.

  “He was. Didn’t see her very often, but I gather it was a match of choice rather than convenience. He told me she was in Spain with his father, supervising the building of a villa. He…”

  Balbus trailed off as Crispus leapt to his feet.

  “Look, out there…”

  The others followed his pointing and saw the figures, scattered and few, but darkened and definitely German, running across the field back to the camp.

  “Scouts. They’ll have seen everything.”

  “There goes the element of surprise!”

  Crispus frowned.

  “Can we load one of the ballistae and get them before they escape?”

  Balbus shook his head.

  “No way we’ve got time. We can’t catch them now. We’ll just have to go ahead anyway. I’d best go let Caesar know though.”

  * * * * *

  Fronto glanced over his shoulder.

  The field was full of men and metal. Six legions, even depleted as they were, numbered over twenty thousand and, with the Auxilia among them, they more than doubled that. Thousands of cavalry sat on the wings neighing and prancing expectantly. Archers and slingers filled the rear of the force. Each legion had its own commanders present in all their glory. In all, the formation as a display of military might was a great deal more impressive that the carefully organised hilltop formation at Bibracte.

  On the right flank, Caesar sat astride his white charger, the red cloak picking him out as an obvious target. Whatever Fronto might have to say about the General from time to time, the man was certainly not short of courage. A well-placed arrow could soon cut short his career in Gaul once they started moving forward. Beside Caesar sat Ingenuus, proud on his dappled grey, red cloak flapping in the breeze. Divitiacus, the most senior of the Aedui present, sat in his traditional armour on the other side of the General.

  On the far left, Crassus sat on his brown and white, looking pompous to Fronto’s eyes. In the centre Priscus was the front man of the Tenth, for Fronto and Varus were here, two hundred yards ahead of even the foremost of the army. Varus sat astride his white horse, some Gallic breed that Fronto didn’t recognise, while Fronto rode Bucephalus. He had to hand it to Longinus, this was a lovely horse. Comfortable and steady, but fearless and strong. There were a network of small scars on the horse’s shoulders and flanks; signs of the situations in which the commander and the horse had both been in trouble and both come out to tell the tale. The scar on the horse’s shoulder from the recent cavalry engagement was still fresh and livid. Fronto made a mental note to have someone look at it later.

  The sun was already fairly high. Once word had reached Caesar that the massing of his troops was no longer a secret from Ariovistus, he had set back the assembly time to give the troops and officers a full night of rest. Consequently, when the legions had begun to move into position, the Germans were also already on the move.

  Much as the German King obviously did not want this battle, he had been left with little choice. Knowing that the entire Roman force was in position, well supplied, and intending to march upon him, his only option had been to prepare for battle.

  Fronto glanced along the German lines, not very far away at all. He was grateful that Ariovistus had chosen to make an open fight of it. The man could easily have stayed within the camp and made Caesar besiege it. Fronto knew they could guarantee a greater loss of life if that were the case.

  “They’re split up into different groups. Not tribes, but thingies, like the Helvetii did. What d’you call them?”

  Varus smiled. Fronto made him chuckle even when blackest vengeance was gripping him from the inside.

  “Cantons.

  “Bless you!”

  Varus grinned as the iron grip on his heart faltered again. Fronto was a rare breed among senior commanders. He and Balbus were very similar in many ways and the effect that the two of them had on the other senior officers was noticeable. Varus could only imagine what the atmosphere among the men would be like now if Crispus, Galba and Rufus had come under the influence of Crassus from early on. Men who improved the morale of the army did it credit and Varus was determined one day to be one of those men.

  “I can see seven Cantons. That means the Suevi must have joined up with them on their march.”

  Fronto sighed.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. If they moved as fast as the rest of the Germans did, they probably reached them before even we rejoined the army. Can you see what they’ve done at the back and the sides?”

  Varus squinted into the haze.

  “Are they fortifying around behind them?”

  Fronto shook his head.

  “They’re stopping their own men from running. That’s a good sign for us. Probably a lot of them are unhappy about being made to fight against the whim of their Gods. Ariovistus is making sure the only way they can get out is through us.”

  Varus shaded his eyes.

  “I think you’ll find there’s something else going on. They appear to be loading all those wagons around the back with women and children!”

  Fronto stared.

  “Now that’s interesting. I wonder whether they’re meant to encourage them to fight or to prevent them escaping. No one’s going to fl
ee the field if it means cutting through your womenfolk. Interesting. I think we should be in a good position today. Our men are riled and ready for a fight. If theirs are suffering that badly with morale problems, we should be alright.”

  He leaned back in the saddle.

  “We should probably get back and tell Caesar now.”

  Varus waved him down.

  “In a moment. Look at their cavalry, heavy on either side. D’you see?”

  “I see cavalry. Why?”

  “There’s a weakness on the right. Look at them. They’ve concentrated around two thirds of them on the left. On the right they don’t have many foot supporting them. They could be broken easily. The other side could be a problem. I need to speak to Crassus. He’s going to have to pull in extra support on our left. Perhaps from Caesar’s cavalry, perhaps from the legions.”

  Fronto shrugged.

  “Either you really do know your stuff or your eyes are better than mine. Looks the same to me. Still, I’ll tell Caesar about the general situation. You tell Crassus about your cavalry, yes?”

  As Varus nodded, the two of them turned their mounts and rode back toward the Roman lines.

  Moments later, Caesar leaned forward in his saddle.

  “Fronto. What’s the situation?”

  The legate grinned.

  “They look a little unwilling. Ariovistus has them surrounded by wagons and women to stop them running. They’re all drawn up in seven Cantons and the Suevi are there. The legions should be able to take them so long as the cavalry are alright on the flanks.”

  Caesar smiled at him.

  “Oh, I think we’ll be fine, Marcus.”

  “Yes, I think you will. Varus said the cavalry element’s much lighter and weaker on this side, like maybe it’s a feint.”

  Caesar frowned.

  “What does he plan to do about it?”

  Fronto growled.

  “He doesn’t command the cavalry if you remember, sir? He plans to warn Crassus.”

  The General directed a warning glance at Fronto.