Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1

by S. J. A. Turney

  Tetricus nodded again.

  ‘I’ll do that, sir.’

  They became slowly aware that someone was running up the street toward 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 had 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 Helvetii 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 was not 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 rumourmongering 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 is 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 a
re 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 doesn’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 paces 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.’

  Tetricus smiled.

  ‘What should we do in the meantime?’

  Balbus grinned back as he walked off through the woods.

  ‘Pack your kit, man. Pack. We’re departing at nightfall, remember?’

  Chapter 17

  (Among low hills between Vesontio and the Rhine)

  ‘Tabularium: The records office. In Rome the Tabularium is in the Forum, though each fort had its own based in the centre of the camp.’

  ‘Valetudinarium: The military hospital in a camp or fort.’

  Caesar leaned forward in his seat and frowned.

  ‘So where is this Salonius now?’

  Publius Sulpicius Rufus stood and met the general’s gaze with a calm and level look.

  ‘The tribune is one of three that has been missing since before your conference with the centurions, general. I gather a number of tribunes applied for permission to resign their posts and to return to Rome, and I believe Salonius is one of them.’

  Caesar gave a low growl.

  ‘I gave no one permission to leave. Everyone who requested it was assigned to my staff.’

  Caesar looked at Longinus.

  ‘Is there any chance of us picking those three up somehow?’

  Longinus shook his head.

  ‘Only in Rome. Can’t see any way to get them in the meantime that doesn’t involve the entire cavalry. Do you know who the man actually was?’

  Another growl.

  ‘Only that he was recommended by the senate and requested permission to be assigned. I daresay when I get back to Rome and pay a visit to the Tabularium, I’ll be able to trace his patron and find out how he got assigned. In the meantime, I think we’ll have to work on the assumption that he was the highest this thing went and try and get on with the business of campaigning.’

  Rufus nodded.

  ‘It irks me that the man was one of mine.’

  Balbus reached out and patted his comrade on the shoulder.

  ‘Not your fault Rufus. Could have been any of us, really. Just lucky to have got rid of him.’

  Caesar relaxed a little and opened his mouth to speak as one of the
guards outside the tent flap knocked on the frame and entered.

  ‘Caesar, I beg to report the arrival of riders, sir.’

  ‘Riders?’

  ‘Looks like several cavalry alae, sir.’

  Caesar’s brow creased as he turned to Longinus.

  ‘How many alae have we got out there?’

  The cavalry commander shrugged.

  ‘A few scout groups of auxiliary riders, nothing more. Oh, and the ala that was with Fronto.’

  Caesar frowned at the guard.

  ‘Any infantry with them?’

  ‘No sir, just looks like several hundred horse.’

  Caesar turned back to Longinus.

  ‘Best get out there and see who they are, then.’

  The officers in Caesar’s command tent made their way out into the late afternoon sun. The grass was light and pleasant and the legions were now resting after having made camp and stored away supplies. The legions’ morale seemed to be holding, but the commanders were still aware of rumblings among the men. A number of the senior officers were of the opinion that a good fight would sort out the problem. Caesar, on the other hand, reminded them that a good fight may just have entirely the opposite effect and he was not willing to stake the Roman position in Gaul on a roll of the dice.

  Balbus nodded in satisfaction as they passed the billets of the Eighth. Everything was squared away properly and a soldier saluted as the officers passed. As they made their way down the hill toward the turf wall-flanked gateway, Balbus could now see the column of riders coming down the hill opposite. They were indeed all cavalry, though not the lightly-armed and Celtic-attired auxiliaries. These were proper alae of heavy cavalry. Moments later he saw a second, much smaller group of riders around half a mile behind.