Fronto smiled.
‘I wouldn’t go. You all need me too much.’
Labienus raised his eyes skywards again as the legate turned and strode back toward Caesar’s tent. Without knocking or calling out, he lifted the flap and entered. The general was still sitting behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as though suffering from a powerful headache. Caesar looked up at the sudden intrusion.
‘What is the name of Venus do you think you’re doing, Fronto?’
The legate smiled what he hoped was a disarming smile, actually the one his sister always said made him look constipated.
‘Alright, Caesar. I’ve worked it out. I know you’re waiting for something, but we really need to know what. Your officers are quite capable of planning actions both offensive and defensive, but if we don’t know what’s going on, we can’t plan for anything.’
Caesar narrowed his eyes, and Fronto continued.
‘Look, I don’t know what the secrecy is about, but I can tell you that just wandering along as though you haven’t a care in the world, settling in behind fortifications while the population of the northern world gathers nearby is just going to make you look either indecisive or cowardly.’
Caesar’s eyes flashed dangerously.
‘I’m not saying that’s what you are, general, but that’s what people are going to think. If, as I assume, you have a good reason for waiting here, you need to tell people what it is.’
The general shook his head.
‘I cannot afford to have certain things become common knowledge ahead of time, Fronto. My army is riddled with treacherous Romans trying to undermine me and Gallic sympathisers who leak information to the Belgae. I trust most of my officers, but this incident with Paetus has just made me question how far that trust can really be extended.’
Caesar sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
‘You, Fronto, are the most insolent, arrogant and obstinate man in my army. And don’t think I haven’t contemplated sending you back, many times…’
He leaned forward.
‘After all, no commander, no matter how clever he is, is worth the trouble we have to put up with from you. But that’s only half of it. There is hardly an officer in my army I can trust fully. All of them have some political game going on at some level… except you. And that’s why I can’t have you arguing with me and gainsaying me in front of the others. I need them to know you’re with me and to understand why I don’t send you home.’
Fronto shrugged.
‘If that’s the case then at least confide in me. You know damn well I’m not going to go shouting your plans to the Belgae or sending letters to the senate.’
He laughed.
‘Hell, I never even get round to sending a letter to my sister!’
Caesar sat back again, thoughtfully.
‘The reason, Fronto, that I was getting so damned angry with you just now, is that you already know the answer to this! And you are the only person in the whole army that does already know. Focus, man. What could I be waiting for?’
Fronto blinked.
‘What?’
‘The Aedui’ Caesar said with a sigh. ‘Divitiacus and his tribesmen are busy hacking and burning their way through the lands of the Bellovaci. They’re closing on our position as we speak.’
Fronto grinned.
‘Caught between two armies. Now I see what’s happening. You want to hold off until the Aedui are close and you can pin them and crush them in one fell swoop!’
Caesar sighed.
‘When will you realise that I’m not completely helpless, Fronto?’
* * * * *
Fronto stood on the causeway with Tetricus and Priscus, peering up and down the defensive trench that cut a line across the flat ground before the fort, just under a mile away. The shadow in the trench was dark and deep as the sun sank quickly now toward the western horizon.
‘Are we really going to hole up here and wait for the Belgae to get stronger?’ Priscus grumbled. ‘You may have had your fun at Bibrax, but my lads are itching to kick a few Belgae.’
Fronto smiled.
‘I’m sure you’ll get the chance shortly. Caesar’s got something up his sleeve. Just be patient.’
Once more he shaded his eyes and examined Tetricus’ handiwork. The ditch was wide enough to roll a cart back and forth across the bottom and deep enough that a man could break his leg if he fell. It really was impressive for only a few hours work. Now, men were working on the inner side shaping a rampart from the excavated earth and planting a palisade atop it. On the berm between the mound and the ditch, men in small groups worked to dig and disguise lilia. At each end of the fortification, a small but heavily defensible fortlet protected artillery platforms onto which the ballistae and onagers were now being manoeuvred. All in all it was impressive. Probably unnecessary, given the approaching Aedui force, but then only he and Caesar knew that.
Priscus snorted.
‘I hate defences and sieges. Give me a good open field and a sword any day.’
Fronto opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again when he saw, over Priscus’ shoulder, legate Balbus of the Eighth striding down to the causeway.
‘Evening all. That’s looking very strong.’
The older legate nodded appreciatively as he looked up and down the defences. Fronto smiled.
‘Afternoon stroll, Quintus?’
Balbus chuckled.
‘Not quite. Now most of the work’s done, Caesar wants the legions moved forward to the new line and camped behind it. I think he’s worried that the Belgae think we’ve lost interest.’
Fronto nodded.
‘He doesn’t want to commit to battle yet, but the last thing we want them to do is to leave. Are we dismantling the main camp?’
Balbus shook his head.
‘The reserves are to stay in the camp.’
‘Reserves? We have reserves?’
Balbus nodded wearily.
‘You’ve been busy, so you’ve not seen what’s been happening. The two new legions have all but cut themselves off. None of the veterans will talk to them, because they’re Gaulish foederati who don’t speak Latin well. There have been fights and arguments; thefts and vandalism. It’s turning into an administrative nightmare. My officers are spending most of their time policing the men.’
He sighed.
‘I spoke to Caesar about integration. I was seriously considering transferring some of the Eighth out to them and taking some of them back in return, but Caesar won’t have it. He doesn’t think it’ll improve morale in general, so much as destroy the morale of the Eighth. It is entirely possible that he’s right as well.’
Fronto nodded, and Balbus squared his shoulders.
‘So essentially Caesar’s separating the forces. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth, as reserves, are going to stay in the camp while the other five legions move up to the new line.’
‘I suppose it’s a solution for now. Things will have to change eventually though.’
With a nod to Tetricus and Priscus, Fronto joined Balbus, and the two began to stroll back up the grass toward the camp.
They had walked less than fifty paces before they became aware of the sound of thundering hooves behind them. Stopping and turning, they saw half a dozen cavalry riding for the camp gate. Among them, Fronto noted the plume of a senior officer. Waving his arm, he stepped out toward them.
‘Ho, Varus! What’s happening?’
The commander of the cavalry steered his horse toward the two legates with a deft twist of his knees.
‘We’ve got trouble. Another big force of Belgae has turned up a few miles further out.’
Fronto narrowed his eyes.
‘You sure they were Belgae?’
‘What? Yes of course I’m sure.’
‘They couldn’t be any other sort of Gauls?’ Fronto probed gently.
Varus stared at him.
‘What the hell have you been drinking, Fronto.�
��
Gritting his teeth, he dropped from the horse lightly to the grass.
‘No, these are definitely Belgae. At least ten thousand of them; maybe fifteen. And they’ll be in camp with their friends in an hour or so.’
‘Damn it!’
Fronto ground his teeth.
‘Caesar’s plans are just going to have to change. At the very least we need to whittle their numbers down while we wait.’
He looked up at Varus.
‘Balbus and I are coming with you to see Caesar.’
‘We are?’ the older legate said with mild surprise and then hurried to catch up with the other two, Fronto walking with his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, Varus leading his horse by the bridle as his troopers went to water and rest their steeds.
‘We’re going to have to goad them into sending some kind of force out somewhere we can meet them,’ Fronto murmured. ‘I don’t suppose you could get your cavalry round behind them and destroy this relief force?’
Varus shook his head.
‘Not really. Not in time. We’d likely end up trapped between two armies of Belgae.’
‘Then we’re going to have to either provoke them into coming to us or find another way to pick off a number of them. Your man Lucilius did a good job earlier. Maybe he could think of something?’
Varus shrugged.
‘Whatever we try, the terrain will be dangerous, and the Belgae will be well prepared.’
He looked up into the purple sky.
‘And it’s too late to do anything tonight anyway. It’ll have to be in the morning.’
Fronto nodded.
‘Fair enough. Gives us a night to work something out anyway.’
He smiled at Balbus.
‘Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ve seen quite enough of Caesar for one day. Priscus will deal with moving the Tenth, and I presume you’ve set Balventius to moving your lot. Shall we retire to my tent for a beverage or two? It seems like an awful long time since I’ve seen you socially.’
Balbus chuckled, rubbing his fist.
‘That it does. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, the last time I had to break your nose!’
Fronto smiled weakly.
‘Yes, well…’
He turned to Varus.
‘After you’ve reported to Caesar, come join us. We should talk.’
Varus nodded.
‘I’ll find you.’
It was a little less than an hour later, with the last glow of the sun finally vanishing in the west, when Varus, divested of his armour and weapons and looking tired though relaxed in just tunic and breeches, finally knocked on Fronto’s tent.
‘Come on in.’
He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the low lamp light. Fronto’s tent looked exactly how Varus would have imagined: the furniture was pushed back against the walls, heaped with dirty clothes and junk, his armour in a pile near the door where he had dropped it, and the centre of the tent covered with rugs and cushions, all set around a low table on which sat a pair of dice, several piles of sesterces and goblets and jugs of wine.
In addition to Fronto and Balbus, the training officer of the Tenth, centurion Velius, and Aulus Crispus, legate of the Eleventh, sat around drinking and laughing. With a smile, Varus sank gratefully into a pile of cushions.
‘Gentlemen.’
As he sat, Fronto leaned back, and his face became serious for a moment.
‘Is there anyone around outside?’
Varus shook his head.
‘Not nearby. Why?’
Fronto sighed.
‘There’s something I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I’m going to anyway.’
Balbus raised an eyebrow.
‘Very mysterious. You shouldn’t pass on secrets, Marcus.’
Fronto laughed quietly.
‘I don’t think it should be a secret. Caesar wants it kept under wraps because he’s starting to get paranoid about people in his army being untrustworthy or leaking information to the Belgae.’
He cast a glance round the room and smiled.
‘But I’d be willing to bet my career on you lot.’
It was true. Balbus had no political leanings and Velius was a career centurion with no position in Rome. There was no guarantee that Crispus and Varus had no other agenda but, apart from the fact that they owed their commissions to Caesar, something about the pair of them just sat well with Fronto. He would be prepared to trust any one of these men with his life.
‘Thing is… I know why we’re sitting tight and not engaging the Belgae.’
He leaned back, noting with interest the intrigued look on the faces of all of his companions except Balbus, who merely nodded thoughtfully.
‘The Aedui’ he stated and leaned back.
Balbus nodded again. ‘I had a suspicion’ he confirmed. ‘Didn’t want to voice it, since Caesar clearly intended to keep this quiet, but there was a glaring hole in Caesar’s attack plan, and there was only one logical solution.’
Fronto smiled.
‘You’re ahead of the game, Quintus. Yes, Divitiacus and a sizeable Aedui army have been traipsing through the western edge of the Belgae lands, burning as they go. The Bellovaci tribe, I think it is.’
Crispus smiled and poured himself another drink.
‘So Caesar’s waiting for the forces to join up? Or just to have them at the other side of the Belgae as a threat. Might be able to end this entire campaign peacefully if we can trap the Belgae in a vice and threaten them.’
Varus shook his head. ‘We’ll still have a battle on our hands. I’ve seen these Belgae in action now. They’ll not lie down and give in. The only way we’re ever going to beat them in a straight fight without more legions is by being inventive and outthinking them.’
‘Agreed,’ Fronto added. ‘I saw them at Bibrax, and they’re not the sort of people to give up without a fight. We only succeeded because of a few clever moves.’
Balbus scratched his head, deep in thought.
‘So I assume Caesar set all this in motion long before we even left Vesontio. The Aedui must have started moving the same time as us.’
Fronto nodded. ‘Caesar sent riders out to Divitiacus the same time he sent those couriers to Rome; to his sister.’
He stopped for a moment, frowning. Varus took a swig from his goblet.
‘Caesar sent riders to Rome?’
Fronto waved a hand. ‘Hang on. Yes. It’s a long story and one you might be better off not knowing.’
Balbus shook his head.
‘Too late now. You’ve already told him enough.’
The older legate turned to the cavalry commander.
‘Paetus; the camp prefect?’
Varus nodded. ‘He’s involved with one of Caesar’s opposition in Rome.’
Velius spluttered over his wine as Varus stared.
‘True,’ admitted Fronto. ‘Caesar was all for getting rid of him one way or another, but it’s not really Paetus’ fault. He’s been used; he’s not really a traitor, so we found a way to use him ourselves. We turned him back on his patron in Rome. Caesar’s going to have him…’
Suddenly, Fronto stared and then slapped his head.
‘Balbus, I think I’ve been stupid.’
A questioning frown.
‘I should have realised. When I talked to Caesar a while back about Paetus and the couriers, for a moment he acted as though he hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.’
He ground his teeth. ‘And that’s because he hadn’t. He’d forgotten what he told me. He never sent anyone to Rome. The couriers he sent out were to the Aedui!’
Balbus’ frown deepened. ‘That means that Paetus’ family are still in danger. No one’s watching over them after all. Would Caesar really do that? Are you sure about this, Marcus?’
Fronto started to climb to his feet.
‘Quintus, I’m beyond sure. We’ve got to warn Paetus not to go along with Caesar. He’ll be endangering his wife and
children.’
Balbus grasped his wrist and pulled him back down to the cushions, a dark look on his face.
‘Too late, Marcus. Caesar had Paetus send his messages to Rome while you were off fighting at Bibrax…’
Fronto let out a low animal growl.
‘That heartless, cold bastard.’
The vicious edge to his voice made Varus and Crispus start with surprise. Fronto slammed his fist on the floor.
‘The old bastard deliberately had Paetus put himself and his family in danger. He could easily have stopped it, or protected them as he said he would. But no! The miserable old bastard just had Paetus sign a death warrant on his own family. If that Clodius is as nasty a piece of work as I hear, he’ll not flinch from gutting a woman and children.’
Balbus’ jaw line hardened.
‘Not only that, but Caesar actually waited until you were safely out of the way before he set it in motion. I expect he thinks that you’d try and stop it.’
He sighed. ‘Which, of course, you would.’
Fronto continued to growl quietly. ‘So do we tell Paetus?’
‘What good will that do?’ replied Balbus. ‘There’s nothing he can do about it now. I suppose it’s possible you could persuade Caesar to send the riders that he never did, but I don’t think so.’
Fronto shook his head, a determined look on his face.
‘I can do one better than that. I just hope there’s still time.’
He turned to Varus.
‘I need half a dozen men with fast horses; Romans, too. Not Gauls. Think you can spare them?’
Varus nodded, uncertainly.
‘The cavalry strength reports are always a mess anyway. What are you planning?’
‘I’ve got family in Rome as well, and a bored sister with money. If Caesar won’t do anything to protect Paetus’ family, then it’s up to me.’
Varus sat back. ‘Pour me another glass of wine. I suspect I’m going to need it.’
* * * * *
As the sun made its first appearance over the treelined hills to the east and the dew settled into the damp grass, Varus vaulted into his saddle. The cavalry section was quartered in a stockaded area near one end of the defensive line, close to a wide causeway crossing, and the pre-dawn morning had seen the camp alive with troopers, both regular and auxiliary, preparing for action. Caesar had called Varus to him in the middle of the night, and the cavalry commander had blearily attended to be informed that the cavalry would be going into action first thing in the morning.
Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1 Page 69