Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1

by S. J. A. Turney

  Crispus struggled to his feet and stood roughly to attention, faltering a little. Varus followed suit. Fronto merely hauled himself around to face the general and remained slumped. Caesar looked down at the scene with one eyebrow raised.

  ‘What…’

  His voice tailed off as his wandering gaze took in the body on the platform behind them.

  ‘Longinus?’

  Fronto sighed deeply and took another swig of wine.

  ‘He fell protecting the legions while they got into position. We’ve been mourning him, as you can see. I’ve read his will. I think you should look too.’

  Caesar dismounted and strode up the bank. Standing before the body, he lowered his head in respect and then sat with the others, motioning Varus and Crispus to do the same. Looking up briefly, he noticed the other riders. Crassus wore an impatient frown, Ingenuus a look of genuine distress.

  ‘Crassus? Ingenuus? I think you should dismount and join us. The rest of you, go report to your comrades.’

  As Ingenuus dismounted, Crassus coughed.

  ‘Caesar, the cavalry is without a commander. Most of them are Gaulish levies. Perhaps I should go and make sure all is in order? They may desert without command.’

  Varus rose to his feet, shaking.

  ‘They are not cowards or animals, and they do not need shepherding! Will you not join us and drink to my commander?’

  Crassus glanced at Caesar and then back at Varus.

  ‘He is not your commander. He’s gone. When I am your commander, you will not speak to a superior officer like that. Caesar? Permission to take command of the cavalry?’

  Fronto jumped to his feet just in time to wrestle Varus back to the grass.

  ‘Don’t do anything stupid. Let the mindless fop make a fool of himself,’ he hissed in the prefect’s ear. Turning to Caesar, he spoke in a more audible tone.

  ‘I presume you have no intention of putting him in command of the cavalry?’

  Caesar cleared his throat.

  ‘I’m making no decision about it now. Longinus is still warm. Crassus, if you’re not joining us, you should head back to your legion for the time being.’

  Crassus grunted.

  ‘Yes, general.’

  Turning, he rode off.

  Fronto suddenly realised that Ingenuus was leaning over the body. He wandered over to the young prefect and patted him on the shoulder. The man had risen high in the ranks, but he was still very young, inexperienced and impressionable. He glanced up at Varus.

  ‘Can you take him somewhere and talk to him?’

  Varus, his face still red, nodded and beckoned to Ingenuus. The two wandered along the bank. Caesar looked at Fronto and Crispus.

  ‘I want to see any prisoners you took. Just a couple, if you have lots. Can they be brought out here?’

  Crispus and Fronto shared a glance.

  ‘There aren’t very many sir, if you get my drift?’

  The general nodded. Crispus stood, shakily.

  ‘I need to exercise my muscles for a moment anyway and perhaps dip myself in a horse trough. With your permission, Caesar, I’ll bring you all the prisoners. Both of them.’

  As he staggered off down the inside of the bank, Caesar looked at Fronto.

  ‘Both of them?’

  Nod.

  ‘I see that you were well in the middle of the action, by the state of you?’

  Nod. Swig of wine.

  ‘The corpses and line of battle across the field show that you didn’t exactly defend the wall, am I right?’

  Nod.

  ‘Marcus, you’re one of the best. Certainly the best I have in this army, but I can’t have you endangering the entire campaign through insane stunts brought on by grief and rage. And I particularly cannot let you lead Crispus down that path. He’s young and naïve. He’s lost a figure he respected today. You are the nearest thing he has here to a father, and how you treat him will affect his whole future. Are you going to speak to me?’

  Fronto looked up and took another swig of wine.

  ‘Longinus is gone. We couldn’t get to him in time. Don’t underestimate how well-liked he was.’

  ‘You and he used to hate each other.’

  Fronto glared angrily at Caesar.

  ‘Don’t pick apart what you don’t understand. We never hated each other. We were just different, and there was a resentment. We were both mature and sensible enough to overcome our differences, and he became a damn good friend. One of the best. And a good cavalry commander. If you let Crassus run amok with them, our cavalry will all either die or desert. Here.’

  He held out a parchment that Caesar gently took from his hand and unfurled before letting it roll up again a moment later.

  ‘His will? It wasn’t meant for me to read. What do I need to know?’

  Fronto sighed.

  ‘He left me his best cloak. Bit of a joke I think, the old bastard. Left me his horse too, would you believe it? Other than that, he appears to have left his sword to Varus, though I haven’t told him yet. The rest of his stuff goes back to his family in Italy.’

  Caesar nodded.

  ‘He obviously held you in more esteem than I thought. He loved his horse a great deal I understand. Other than that, fairly ordinary, yes?’

  Fronto nodded.

  ‘Apart from one thing. He wanted me to propose Varus as his replacement should this happen. He specifically stated him in the amendment he made at Vesontio. Surely you can’t select Crassus.’

  Caesar sighed.

  ‘I cannot always do what I wish, Marcus. I am not a God, so I must sometimes do as I am required. I have to give Crassus a chance. I can stop him doing something if he does it wrong, but I cannot prevent him from trying. I owe his father much too much for that.’

  ‘So you’re going to ignore this?’

  He waved the will at Caesar.

  ‘It is my prerogative and my duty to assign commanders, not their own. I would be happy to accept Varus and would go with the recommendation were he the only candidate. He has proved himself a number of times. However, Crassus wants it, and he’s currently got the more important claim. Things may change, Marcus. There’s a long way ahead of us yet. Crassus will get his chance to prove he can do it, but only one chance. No more.’

  Fronto nodded unhappily.

  ‘If you’d like, I’ll speak to Varus and tell him all about it.’

  ‘Thank you Marcus. Here comes Crispus with the prisoners. Before he gets here, I want you to remember one thing. Crispus is going to look to you now. He’s very young, and he takes inspiration from the other commanders. Be sure you inspire him correctly and not toward chaos, yes?’

  Another unhappy nod.

  The two surviving prisoners of the German attack were dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the bank. Crispus indicated the auxiliary soldier standing beside him.

  ‘This is one of our Aeduan allies who speaks both their language and ours fluently.’

  Caesar looked down at the Aeduan cavalryman.

  ‘You’ll translate for them and I?’

  ‘Yes Caesar.’

  ‘Ask them why Ariovistus won’t come out and fight me.’

  A brief and garbled exchange followed between the prisoners and the auxiliary, after which he turned to face the general.

  ‘It’s a little hard to explain, Caesar, but… well you know how before the legions are committed, a Haruspex is consulted, and the entrails of a bird are opened in order to determine the auspices for the day?’

  The general nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, Ariovistus has his own Haruspices to consult, but his are Matrons of the tribes; revered old women. They cast bones and determine the will of their Gods from how the bones fall and, if they fall wrong, Ariovistus will not commit.’

  ‘And the bones keep falling badly for him?’

  The auxiliary exchanged brief words with the prisoners again and then addressed the general once more.

  ‘They do not need to, Caesar. T
hey cast their bones once when they first arrived and they informed the King that if he attacked before the new moon, the Gods would not let him win. Thus he has committed to small actions only and won’t commit his main force until then.’

  Caesar frowned.

  ‘How long to the new moon, Crispus?’

  The young legate shrugged.

  ‘A little over a week, I suppose.’

  ‘Too long. I won’t let their barbarian superstitions prolong this standoff.’

  Crispus cleared his throat.

  ‘Sir, we are just as superstitious in our observance of ritual Haruspicy before taking action.’

  Caesar nodded.

  ‘Yes, but frankly, I’ve never believed in them. I go along with it to keep people happy, but life is what you make it, Crispus, and I intend to make it difficult for Ariovistus. We hold Longinus’ funeral tonight. I want everything out of the way before tomorrow because in the morning we set upon the Germans.’

  He turned and called over to the two cavalry officers. Varus and Ingenuus walked over to the general and stood side by side.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Gentlemen. I want you to arrange a pyre for your commander. This ballista…’ he patted the weapon that stood next to Longinus’ body ‘will be removed to the camp interior. The pyre will be built here on this platform, and it should be high. I want the Germans to be able to see it burn quite clearly. Have torches lit all along the defences.’

  Fronto glanced over at Caesar, a sad look about him.

  ‘You can’t even give Longinus a sendoff without making a statement with it, can you general?’

  Caesar glared back at Fronto. The man was usually only this bold when they were in private. It could cause trouble if he started questioning his commander in front of other officers. Still, Caesar was aware of the grief clutching him at the moment and, whether he should have said it or not, he was, of course, correct. His glare lessened.

  ‘Marcus. Anything that might give us an edge could save other lives. Besides, Longinus would have been the first to agree.’

  Fronto snorted.

  ‘I suppose so. If you’re going to do it like this, though, do it properly.’

  He turned to Varus and Ingenuus.

  ‘Go and find Priscus of the Tenth and get him to send a forage party into the woods. We want thousands of torches making. One for every spectator when we burn Gaius.’

  Varus and Ingenuus bowed and, turning, went about their tasks.

  Fronto turned round to see Crispus and Caesar look at him.

  ‘We line them all up on the field before the pyre, but also before the German camp. Can you imagine what a sight eight thousand burning torches will be? Shame we haven’t got the rest of the men here.’

  Caesar nodded.

  ‘Still, it will be a great send off for Longinus and a sight to behold for Ariovistus. And, in the morning, we will force the man to fight us. If he will not come out, we will go in!’

  Chapter 20

  (The field before the small fort)

  ‘Actuarius: Clerks, both civil and military. In the legions, Actuarii existed from the very top command levels, down to century levels, where excused-duty soldiers served in the role.’

  The pyre burned bright on the wall. There was a slight wind disturbing the smoke, though it blew high and away above the soldiers. Two legions and all the attached auxilia stood before the wall with burning torches held high.

  Fronto stood with the two cavalry officers and Crispus, Crassus and Caesar on the platform near the body. He could see Priscus down below in front of the Tenth. The primus pilus was sweating with the heat and the effort of continuously holding the torch high. The rest of the men would be suffering in much the same way. The pyre had only been lit for short while, and they would have a long time to go yet.

  Fronto wore Longinus’ good dress cloak that had been left to him and Varus bore the good quality Spanish cavalry sword that had been willed to him. The rest of his goods had been packed to send to his family, along with a letter from Fronto, one from Varus and one from Caesar. As a last gesture, before Varus lit the wood of the pyre, he laid his own much-used blade at the commander’s side. Fronto had caused much raising of eyebrows among the command when he brought forth his resplendent red and gold cloak and covered the torso with it.

  Now they all burned together. Caesar had made a speech and then Varus had added his own words.

  In the silence, broken only by the crackle of burning wood and the spit and hiss of flaming fats, Fronto suddenly put his hand to his brow, shading his eyes from the glare of the fire. Trying not to cause too much alarm, he sidestepped toward Crispus and whispered to him.

  ‘Can you see movement out to the left, beyond the ridge?’

  Crispus sheltered his eyes and gazed out.

  ‘Yes. What’s happening?’

  Fronto, still squinting, shook his head.

  ‘Don’t know. They’re not Ariovistus’ men, though. They’re moving in legion formation. It must be the rest of the army.’

  He glanced up at Caesar to see the general smiling at him.

  ‘Absolutely, Marcus. What a distraction, eh? While the Germans marvel at the bright lights, four legions and thousands of cavalry walk right past them in the darkness.’

  Fronto gawped.

  ‘The whole army here? Now?’

  ‘They will walk right around the edge of the field and into your camp. If all goes well, Ariovistus will not know that they’ve even moved. It should throw any tactics he has planned completely out of the window when the entire army forms up here at first light.’

  Crispus shook his head.

  ‘The other camp must be occupied or at the very least maintain the illusion of occupation. Otherwise Ariovistus can retreat and occupy our camp.’

  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 seem
ed 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 moment. 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.