Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1

by S. J. A. Turney

  Caesar stopped pacing and glared at him.

  ‘It’s not my fault, general,’ Fronto spread his hands defensively, ‘but the engineers know what they’re talking about. I know you’re in a hurry to move on, but the job will just have to be done a certain way.’

  There was a low rumbling from Caesar’s throat.

  ‘No, Fronto. Today! It has to be today. Now, in fact… so give me ideas, not arguments.’

  Fronto settled into a growl once again. This was sheer idiocy.

  ‘The only ideas we have involve siege engines, general. There’s just no way to cross that ditch safely. It’s too deep and too wide. And the walls beyond are too thick and too high. You can throw a million men against the place, and you’ll just waste a million men.’

  Plancus raised a hand and stepped forward, causing Fronto to shake his head in dismay.

  ‘Then we must concentrate on the causeways across to the gates in the wall. Battering rams. We can break down the gates.’

  Caesar nodded appreciatively, but Fronto’s growl resumed.

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Plancus demanded in a high-pitched shriek.

  ‘Those causeways are wide enough for forty men abreast at most. Factor in a battering ram and you’ve barely got room for the men on either side to operate it. And no one to protect them.’

  Caesar was looking back and forth between the two of them quietly.

  ‘So use vineae!’ screeched Plancus.

  ‘If you could fit bloody vineae over those causeways, do you not think I’d have mentioned it? The causeway is too narrow!’

  He turned to the silent officers behind him.

  ‘Am I repeating myself, or am I actually not saying anything? Can you hear me? Are any words coming out?’

  The legate of the Fourteenth had gone purple.

  ‘So we’ll have the men on either side of the rams form a roof with their shields then!’

  Fronto grinned. He was starting to enjoy this.

  ‘While the battering ram trundles on propelled by what? Moles? The breeze? Listen to me, Plancus…’

  He illustrated his words by speaking with exaggerated slowness and waving his arms.

  ‘The… cause… way… is… too… na… rrow!’

  Plancus was actually vibrating slightly.

  ‘Then what do you suggest, Fronto?’

  He smiled.

  ‘You know the answer to that. A siege.’

  Caesar shook his head.

  ‘No, Fronto. That’s not good enough. I want Noviodunum today. We will conduct a grand assault with all seven legions against the main gate. The auxiliary units will provide shots to pick off the defenders atop the walls. The legions will cross the causeway and the ditch wherever they can, and we will have that gate down with a ram as soon as it can be brought across, and the walls down with grapples. It can be done. To your units, gentlemen.’

  Fronto and Crispus stalked away from the general under the aggravated gaze of Plancus, as the legate of the Tenth kicked at the ground irritably.

  ‘It can’t be done. I’ve known the engineers long enough to know that when they say it’s a waste of time, it’s not wise to ignore them.’

  Crispus nodded unhappily as the command cornicens behind them blew out a series of commands. Fronto watched the legions ahead begin to move slowly forward, the auxiliary archers rushing around the edge to find positions from which they could loose. A huge treetrunk ram was being manhandled by a century of men and taken down to the rear of the regulars as they moved. Fronto slowed his walk and Crispus raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’re not joining your men, Marcus?’

  Fronto growled again.

  ‘Waste of time. I can’t do anything to help, and Priscus knows how to keep the men as safe as possible. Frankly, I want nothing to do with this.’

  For a moment, he pondered, then lightly punched Crispus in the upper arm.

  ‘Unless you feel the urgent need to die in a ditch with your men, come with me.’

  Crispus frowned and turned to follow Fronto as he veered off to the side. On a slight rise to the east stood the supply train and wagons of the army. Sitting, looking rather bored amid carts full of dissembled machinery, were the members of the legions’ engineering details assigned to the wagons and, as Fronto expected, Tetricus stood atop the nearest, staring in dismay at the legions marching on the high walls of Noviodunum. He saw the two legates approaching and sighed.

  ‘I hope you’ve brought some wine, Fronto. This disaster is going to be hard to watch sober.’

  Fronto shook his head.

  ‘Sadly, no. I’m here to pick your brains.’

  ‘You can have them!’

  Fronto gave a weak laugh.

  ‘The only legate down there stupid enough to believe they can do it is Plancus. Everyone else is going to do what they can to preserve the men they have. I know damn well that Priscus is going to see that I haven’t joined him and take it very carefully. It’ll be over in a lot less than an hour, for certain. So you need to start thinking.’

  ‘What about?’

  Ways to get in there without wasting any more troops. This assault’s doomed and, as soon as Caesar realises that, we need to present him with the quickest possible way of taking the place before he decides on another frontal assault.

  ‘Oh shit. Will you look at that?’

  Fronto and Crispus turned as Tetricus pointed across the intervening ground to where the assault was taking place. The legions had reached the oppidum's defences, and the men were carefully skidding and dropping down into the wide ditch. It was like watching a waterfall of people disappearing over a horizon. But that was not the thing that Tetricus was drawing their attention to. Somehow, during legions’ journey across the intervening space, Plancus had managed to manoeuvre the Fourteenth to the centre of the force, where Balbus’ Eighth should be.

  The green legion was marching across the causeway. Fronto watched with mounting dismay as the front lines reached the gate and began to mill about hopelessly waiting for the battering ram that was being slowly transferred through the force to the front. Men were dying so thick and fast there it looked like the Fourteenth might disappear altogether.

  To each side, men had crossed the deep ditch in reasonable formation and were now forming testudos to protect them from the many falling missiles dropped by the defenders. As they watched, soldiers hurled grapples toward the wall tops. Remarkably few reached the height of the walls and those that did were instantly dislodged and fell back into the ditch. The units of auxiliary archers had let off a few initial volleys, few of which had even crossed the parapet, but had now wisely packed away their bows and were also watching unhappily. Once the legions were in the ditch, they had fallen prey as much to the Roman arrows bouncing off the wall tops as to the defenders’ own missiles.

  As they watched, a massive rock was tipped over the parapet and fell out of sight into the ditch, where it likely killed several men and injured many more. Another glance at the causeway confirmed Fronto’s fears that the Fourteenth may well be gone before they could bring the ram to bear on the gate.

  ‘Screw this.’

  ‘What?’ Crispus and Tetricus turned to look at him.

  ‘We’re going to get Caesar to stop this madness.’ He turned to Tetricus. ‘And you are going to come up with some ideas on the way to impress him.’

  Without waiting for them, Fronto stormed at speed back down the slope toward Caesar.

  Arriving red-faced with his two companions, Fronto pulled himself up to his full height before the general.

  ‘What?’ the man asked absently, looking past the legate at the distant fracas.

  ‘Right…’ stated Fronto. ‘You hate being gainsaid, but you know me well enough to know that I always have good reasons for what I do.’

  Caesar nodded vaguely. Fronto carefully positioned himself so that he was in the way, aggravating the general a little more.

  ‘You have
to stop this. It’s a disaster. If you don’t sound the recall now, in half an hour you’ll have six legions instead of seven and the ones you have left will be seriously understrength. They’re getting massacred over there! A few days of siege and you could take the place without all of this.’

  Caesar was shaking his head.

  ‘Look, general. This is a waste of good men. If you lose half your army here, what’s going to happen when you meet another large army of Belgae? They’re dropping rocks the size of haystacks on your men!’

  ‘Plancus promised he’d take that gate!’

  Fronto grasped the general’s shoulders.

  ‘Plancus has the brain of a boiled herring! He’s lost about a thousand men in a thousand bloody heartbeats down there. Stop them now!’

  Caesar stared in surprise at the officer who had dared to manhandle him. Suddenly, he seemed to wake from a daze.

  ‘You’re right, Fronto. You always are…’

  He turned to the cornicen standing behind him.

  ‘Sound the recall!’

  * * * * *

  Fronto carried the wax tablet across the ground by the hastily-erected command tent to where Caesar stood, looking unhappy. He tried to ignore the glare he was receiving from Plancus, despite the fact that it gave him such a warm glow.

  ‘Apologies, Caesar. It’s not good news.’

  The general ignored the sounds of the legionary camp being assembled around him. The seven legions and associated extras had split off and were each constructing their own camp in a circuit around the large hill that was the oppidum of Noviodunum. All the legates and staff officers were, however, here in the camp of the Tenth.

  ‘We lost over two thousand men in quarter of an hour?’ Caesar said despairingly as he examined the figures. ‘That’s the heaviest loss I think I’ve ever heard of in such a short time.’

  Fronto nodded soberly.

  ‘Tetricus has drawn extra men from the legions and started work on all fronts. There are more vineae being constructed as we speak. By noon tomorrow, we could probably shelter a legion under them. He’s got three towers being constructed too… one for each gate. We should be able to get them close enough, so long as we keep throwing water on them, so the Belgae can’t set fire to them. But he’s most concerned with his ramp.’

  ‘Ramp?’

  Caesar frowned. ‘He never mentioned a ramp before.’

  ‘That’s what he took the existing vineae for, Caesar. He used them to build basically an 'aboveground tunnel’ that goes from out of the enemy’s range right to the edge of the ditch.’

  ‘What for?’ Caesar looked nonplussed.

  ‘For the ramp, sir…’

  He smiled.

  ‘Tetricus is having tons of rubble transported under the vineae to the ditch, where it’s being tipped in. He’s filling the ditch in, but more than that, he’s starting to angle it up so that by the time it’s crossed the ditch it’ll be at the top of the wall nearly.’

  The general stared at him.

  ‘But that would take weeks, wouldn’t it?’

  Fronto grinned.

  ‘Tetricus says three days. And it’s nice and safe, as the men are all working under cover of the vineae. He reckons that by noon three days from now, we can hit them at each gateway with a tower, and should be able to get men in their hundreds up his ramp and over the wall under cover all the way. It’s worth the slight delay.’

  The general nodded, still bewildered.

  ‘A ramp?’

  ‘Yes, Caesar… a ramp. He says the Belgae keep gathering on the walls and pointing.’

  ‘I’ll bet they do. I’ve heard of siege ramps before. Seen one used once, even. But never seen a ramp built across a ditch before…’

  ‘He’s a clever bugger, that Tetricus’ Fronto agreed.

  As Caesar stood quietly, staring down at the casualty figures in his hands, Plancus cleared his throat.

  ‘If I may, Caesar…’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘I think it would do the morale of the Fourteenth good if you were to thank them for their efforts earlier. We may not have succeeded, but they fought hard.’

  Caesar frowned.

  ‘I don’t think so, Plancus. That would demean the other legions, and to be honest, I’m really not in the mood to give a rousing speech.’

  Fronto nodded.

  ‘And when you’ve known soldiers a little longer, you’ll know what they appreciate, Plancus.’ He turned to the general. ‘Caesar? Permission to break out wine rations for all off-duty legionaries as soon as the camps are complete?’

  Caesar nodded.

  ‘Good idea. Let’s regroup and try to turn today to some good. And when Tetricus is done for the day, can you ask him to visit me? I’d like him to go over his plans with me in detail.’

  Fronto nodded and strode away, once more basking in the vicious looks Plancus was casting at him. It occurred to him that it did a man good to have someone to hate; defined him in some important way. Normally, it would be Crassus of course, but with the man being out west or possibly dead, it was nice that Plancus had stepped up to take his place.

  He was still pondering on the differences between the two equally dislikeable officers as he headed for the quartermaster, when he heard his name being called from behind. Turning, he spotted Balbus and Sabinus walking fast to catch up with him. He waited for them and smiled as they fell into step.

  ‘Do you really have to wind Plancus up like that?’ Balbus asked lightly. ‘It means he spends the next three hours bumbling around miserably, looking for someone else to take it out on.’

  Sabinus laughed.

  ‘It’s funny the way he keeps putting himself forward for things. He seems to be completely unaware that everyone knows he’s an idiot. What’s on your agenda, Fronto? It seems to me that we lucky ones have actual free time. Perhaps we could relax with a drink somewhere?’

  Fronto smiled and nodded, his gaze straying back up the slope to the officers gathered in a knot around Caesar and coming to rest on Crispus, who had left the group and was strolling in their direction.

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like more, but I have something to do first. My tent should be up and furnished within the hour. I’ll meet you there then.’

  The others nodded and went off their own ways, leaving Fronto standing quietly as Crispus caught up with him.

  ‘What’s up?’

  The young legate smiled.

  ‘I think, perhaps, that we need to discuss your ‘captive’?’

  Fronto went blank for a moment, frowning, and then light dawned on him.

  ‘Hardly a captive. More like a limpet. Where is she at the moment?’

  He turned and walked on toward the supply wagons where Cita would be surveying the store situation as Crispus fell in beside him.

  ‘I have two of the tribunes of the Eleventh keeping her safe and sound and a couple of the immunes tending to her needs.’ He smiled a sly smile. ‘Or perhaps you would rather tend to her needs, Marcus?’

  Fronto glared at his companion and rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’m not looking for someone to jump on and ravish, Crispus. I’m in the middle of a campaign. Besides, I suspect my mother and sister would have a heart attack if I brought home a Celtic girl.’

  Crispus laughed.

  ‘I was not aware that you cared that much about improprieties, Marcus.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Crispus’ face became serious for a moment.

  ‘You do need to decide what to do with her, though, Marcus. We cannot campaign with one of the enemy under our protection, no matter how pretty she might be.’

  Fronto nodded.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, but it all depends on the next stage or two of the campaign. I can’t just release her into the wilderness. That would be cruel, with wolves and bears out there. But we can’t take her with us. If, when we’ve taken Noviodunum, we can subdue the Suessiones without having to raze the place and enslave them all, I
can deliver her to them to look after. They’re all Belgae, so they’ll probably look after her until she can go home one day. Unless they decided that death is better than being allies with Rome.’

  Crispus nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s a pretty big if, Marcus. We have to take the place first and, since they have already cost us several thousand men, I cannot see Caesar edging toward the merciful.’

  Fronto frowned as he thought of the general and his mind flipped back through past victories, coming to settle as it often did, particularly in the night, on the image of that day last year by the Saone where the Tigurine had been slowly and methodically executed under Caesar’s orders.

  ‘Then we will either have to persuade him, or she’ll have to stay with us until the next tribe or town we deal with that can and will take her.’

  The two fell silent for a moment, and Fronto looked up as they approached the supply wagons.

  ‘Cita? The general has agreed to a requisition of wine stores for the legions. Can you arrange it?’

  The quartermaster’s jaw firmed.

  ‘For Bacchus’ sake, Fronto, don’t you ever think of anything other than wine? You do know we’re on campaign here? I have a very limited stock of luxuries like wine, and it’s a massive pain in the backside trying to replenish my stocks.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Every time you requisition wine, I have to send a resupply list back with an empty cart all the way to Vesontio, where I had the foresight to set up a storage camp. They send us the wine and then do the same thing, sending their list to the decurions of Geneva, who actually sell us the wine, at a reduced military rate if they’re feeling generous. Then they buy in more wine from Cisalpine Gaul, across the Alps.’

  Fronto shrugged.

  ‘Your point being?’

  ‘My point being that every time you withdraw more than a few amphorae of wine, we have to utilise a massive resupply system that relies on more than a hundred people, stretches fully half a thousand miles and, by the time that wine is in your hand, it’s cost a month’s pay for many people. Think about the cost and difficulties before you start blithely handing out luxury goods to the men!’

  Fronto smiled.

  ‘Nah. That’s your job, Cita. Mine’s to keep the men happy.’