Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1

by S. J. A. Turney

  Galba grinned at the older legate.

  ‘I may have used the general’s name without permission to drum up new recruits among our Gallic allies on the way back from the Alps. When they’re fully trained, we’ll be back up to over half strength, even if most of them are greener than the forests they came from.’

  ‘Where are they then?’ Fronto interjected, leaning forward. ‘The camp of the Tenth is basically almost empty.’

  Galba laughed and leaned back, taking a swig of imported wine.

  ‘I sent them to Brutus’ shipyards at Turonum on the Loire. They’re alternating training with construction work, and it keeps Crassus in the dark about both our true strength and Brutus’ little project.’

  ‘How’s that coming?’

  Brutus leaned forward.

  ‘We’re nearly done, to be honest. The fleet’s just having the final touches added. What we’re missing at the moment is the crews, but I am informed they’re on their way up from Narbo and should be here any time. We’ll be ready before Crassus has managed to recall his legions.’

  Fronto laughed nastily.

  ‘His legions! Things might change a little now that Caesar’s back. The general may be a politician who doesn’t give much thought for the locals, but he does have a better than elementary grasp of tactics and enough common sense to go only so far with them. Better than Crassus, anyway.’

  The table fell silent, a reaction that often greeted Fronto when he began to espouse his opinions of the great Caesar, and particularly after a few beverages.

  ‘Anyway,’ Fronto went on, glancing at Varus, ‘you say your scouts have told you more?’

  The cavalry commander nodded unhappily.

  ‘The tales I hear sound more like a nation gearing up for war than a beaten people trying not to starve to death. The Veneti have retreated to their fortresses on the coast which, I am informed, are almost impregnable. When the legions get to their inland settlements to impound their animals and grain, they’re finding the people are already gone and have taken everything with them. They’re stocking up for a siege and leaving nothing for us to take. It’s starting to get to Crassus.’

  ‘I can imagine. Are we just talking about this Veneti tribe then?’

  The look on Varus face answered Fronto’s question before he opened his mouth.

  ‘There are tribes all over Armorica doing the same. But even that’s not even the main worry. Some of my outriders caught a messenger riding east. He was taking a message to the Belgae, urging both them and the Germans to rise up and drive us out of Gaul. Crassus has turned the small issue this started as into a catastrophe. We could very well be looking at an uprising all over the north.’

  Crispus sighed.

  ‘This land is somewhat like a lumpy sleeping pallet.’

  He looked around at the confused faces of the others and spread his hands.

  ‘You cannot sleep comfortably, so you have to flatten out the lump, but then a lump forms somewhere else. No matter what you do, there will always be a new lump forming somewhere. And the more you play with it, trying to make it comfortable, the more lumps you have until, in the end, there is nothing else for it but to discard the pallet and begin again with a new one.’

  ‘That’s a depressing picture’ Galba sighed.

  ‘So’ Fronto grumbled, ‘we may be looking at more than just these tribes?’

  Varus cleared his throat meaningfully.

  ‘I have it on good authority that their messengers also went south to the Pyrenees and the tribes around there and into Spain, and even by boat across to Britannia. The more we hear, the more it sounds like we’re about to be crushed between armies from all over the place. Who the hell knows what we could be facing if the Celts in Britannia cross the water.’

  Balbus leaned back, his expression bleak.

  ‘If all this is accurate then it would appear we are already beyond hope of negotiation. We are at war; we just haven’t moved yet.’

  Varus nodded and took another slug of wine.

  ‘Well then, gentlemen’ Fronto announced, slapping his mug on the table. ‘It’s no use us sitting here wishing things were different. We’ve got to get things moving. We should go see the general and start pushing.’

  A chuckle caught his attention, and he peered across the table at Sabinus.

  ‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet?’

  Sabinus shook his head wearily.

  ‘I have had three months of trying to argue and gainsay Crassus with the man talking down to me and over the top of me. I’m exhausted Marcus. But it’s nice to have you back. Nothing stirs the army up like having you around!’

  Fronto smiled.

  ‘Then let’s get stirring. Time to go see the general.’

  As he stood, he turned to Carbo. The primus pilus nodded.

  ‘I know. Head back to camp and get the men on a first alert.’

  Fronto nodded.

  ‘That and more.’ He turned to Varus. ‘Can you send riders out looking for the wandering cohorts and give them the recall order?’

  Varus shrugged.

  ‘I can do it; I just don’t have the authority.’

  ‘I’ll take responsibility. Just get the men back here.’

  As Varus nodded, he turned back to his primus pilus.

  ‘When the rest of Tenth make it back to camp, stop anyone else leaving. There’ll be no more of this pointless burning.’

  He turned back and threw the last of the wine down his throat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smearing deep red across his chin.

  ‘Right. Let’s go ruin Crassus’ day.’

  * * * * *

  Two of Crassus’ legionaries, polished and straight, stood at the closed door of the headquarters building. As Fronto and his group of officers approached, they crossed their pila over the doorway.

  ‘Sorry sir. The legate is in a meeting with the general. No one is allowed in at the moment.’

  Fronto glared at the man.

  ‘Have you any idea just how many senior officers there are here? Get out of the way.’

  The legionary had the decency to look nervous and apologetic.

  ‘I have my orders from both the legate and the general, sir and, with respect, the general outranks all of us. If I let you past I’ll be cleaning latrines until winter comes again.’

  Fronto stepped uncomfortably close to the man and grinned through bared teeth, the fumes of freshly-imbibed wine washing over the man’s face and making him gag.

  ‘You know who I am and the sort of thing I get up to. Crassus might have you emptying latrines, but if you don’t open that door, I will snap that pilum in half, stick the sharp bit up your arse and use you to mop the latrines. Do I make myself clear?’

  The man held out defiantly, if nervously, for a moment longer until his companion buckled under the legate’s glare and stepped out of the way. Suddenly alone in front of an angry officer, the legionary stepped aside and averted his gaze.

  ‘Good choice’ Fronto growled as he swung the door open and stepped inside.

  The building was divided into four rooms with a central corridor that connected each of them with the front door. Most were likely given over to office space, but the room to the immediate right had its door closed, from behind which Fronto could hear muffled conversation. The irritation of the guards outside still driving him, he reached for the handle and swung the door open without knocking, striding through purposefully.

  Crassus, his back to the door, had apparently not noticed and continued addressing Caesar while the general looked up in surprise.

  ‘…and we estimate that the lack of supplies will push the Veneti into submission within the month.’

  ‘That’s not what I hear’ Fronto barked, the other officers filing in behind him. Caesar furrowed his brow.

  ‘I believe I left instructions we were not to be disturbed, Fronto? I was planning to call a meeting first thing in the morning and give you time to pickle your br
ain in the meantime, since it seems to be your hobby.’

  Crassus spluttered as he turned. Fronto grinned at him with no humour at all.

  ‘It sounds to me like you handled the situation badly and you’ve all but pushed the local tribes into full rebellion.’

  Crassus shook his head.

  ‘Totally untrue. Wherever the legions go we are encountering no resistance.’

  ‘That’ Fronto snapped ‘is because the tribesmen are gathering for war in their coastal fortresses while they send to Germany, Spain and Britannia for help.’

  ‘Preposterous’ Crassus spluttered.

  Caesar, behind him, leaned forward in his chair.

  ‘You have conflicting information, Fronto?’

  ‘And from a number of trustworthy sources in your own army, general. The Veneti are all but ready to go to war, and it looks like they have incited other tribes to the northwest, the southwest, back toward Germany and even across the water in Britannia. If they haven’t killed the hostages they took, it’ll only be because they’re holding on to them in case they need them later.’

  Crassus shook his head.

  ‘That is a stalemate. They will never execute the hostages, as I have one of their chieftains and a druid in custody myself.’

  Balbus, near the door, made a grumbling noise.

  ‘Yet you have written off any hope of getting our men back. You think they couldn’t have done the same?’

  Fronto glared at Crassus while he addressed the general.

  ‘We have to move straight away, Caesar, before this shitty situation becomes a disaster and we lose our foothold in Gaul altogether. ‘All Gaul is conquered’, remember?’

  The general stared at him for a moment and then, nodding, stood, placing his hands on the large map on the table before him.

  Then we have to decide on how we move now. We have less than half the army here, the rest being out on food gathering missions.’ He looked up at Brutus. ‘What’s the state of the fleet?’

  Crassus blinked.

  ‘Fleet? What fleet?’

  Brutus ignored him and scratched his chin.

  ‘A few days from operational, Caesar. A little rigging, some more sails, and the crews are imminent. Once the ships are ready, we can leave them to the new crews with just a skeleton staff and Galba can have the rest of the Twelfth back, preparing to move.’

  Crassus turned to look in confusion at Brutus and then Galba.

  ‘What rest of the Twelfth? What fleet? What in the name of Minerva are you talking about?’

  Caesar ignored the legate and nodded.

  ‘Very well. The fleet was a good idea. Moreover, it was your idea, Brutus, so I’m putting them under your command. Draw marines from the stronger legions who can spare the men, particularly the Ninth, and then head for Turonum. As soon as the ships are finished and the crews arrive, send Galba’s men back to him and get the fleet underway. Take them downstream to the sea and stay there until the legions arrive. Use the intervening time to get a little training and practice in. Are you happy with all that?’

  Brutus nodded, his face straight.

  ‘I’m no experienced admiral, Caesar, but I know the basics. We’ll be there and ready.’

  ‘Good. Where is Varus?’

  Fronto smiled nastily at the astonished face of legate Crassus.

  ‘I asked him to get riders sent out to the legions with the recall order.’

  Crassus opened his mouth to argue but, behind him Caesar overrode him.

  ‘Good. When he’s back, tell him to take half the cavalry and a few of the fastest moving foot auxiliary units and move across country as fast as they can to meet up with Labienus at Nemetocenna. The last report I had from Labienus a few months ago seemed to indicate that things were going exceptionally well there. He seems to be well on his way to Romanising the Belgae already and, with the cavalry reinforcements, he should be able to keep things settled and safe over there and hopefully keep the Germans on the other side of the Rhine.’

  Fronto nodded approvingly. Labienus was, most certainly, the man for the job. With him watching their back, Fronto felt reasonably secure.

  ‘So are we going to concentrate the rest of the forces on Armorica and hope the example we make keeps the Spanish and the British out of it?’

  Caesar waggled his hand in a noncommittal fashion.

  ‘Partially. There’s very little we can do at the moment about Britannia. We just have to hope that either they decide against interference, or they take so long preparing that we have dealt with the situation before they can land in Gaul. Spain is a different matter.’

  Fronto nodded. He had personal experience of the Celtic and Iberian tribes across the Pyrenees. They were as hardy as the Gauls but less inclined to settle and negotiate, a fact that had contributed greatly to the heavy-handed and brutal tactics Caesar had employed there years ago when Fronto had commanded the Ninth.

  ‘We need something like the Labienus situation down there.’

  ‘No’ Caesar disagreed, shaking his head. ‘This is different. What we need with the Pyrenean tribes is to frighten them into submission. They’ve no real experience or appreciation of Roman culture, despite being so close to Narbo. They won’t be talked out of action, and we need to put a stop to them getting involved and also to seal the passes over the mountains and stop the Spanish tribes helping them.’

  Sabinus, near the back of the room, frowned.

  ‘Sounds like we’re in danger of splitting the army and spreading it a little too thin for comfort, Caesar?’

  The general nodded, rubbing his temple.

  ‘We can’t spare too many men, for certain.’

  Sabinus cleared his throat.

  ‘If you want me to take a legion or two and deal with it, sir?’

  Caesar shook his head, examining the map by his hand.

  ‘No. I shall be sending you, Crassus.’

  The room fell silent, many faces quickly registering both surprise and disapproval. The tense quiet was broken when Crassus, finding his voice for the first time since the conversation began, turned to the general.

  ‘Sir?’

  The general glowered at him.

  ‘You took a peaceful situation up here and turned it into a war. You are a good commander for punitive campaigns, Crassus, but to be frank, you are just too brutal in your methods to administer a freshly-conquered land.’

  Fronto almost laughed aloud. To be considered ‘too brutal’ by the man who had ordered the execution of an entire captive tribe not long after they had first ever marched into this country said a great deal.

  Crassus was nodding, though, as though the general had complimented him.

  ‘You want their spirit and their will to resist crushed?’

  The general smiled.

  ‘I see you have the picture. Can you repeat your success of last year?’

  Crassus nodded, an unpleasant smile creeping across his face.

  ‘I shall take the Seventh and seal off the southwest completely, general.’

  ‘Good. You will need to be highly manoeuvrable in the foothills of the Pyrenees, so I’m sending the rest of the cavalry with you.’

  Crispus leaned close to Fronto and whispered in his ear ‘That’ll please Varus!’

  Fronto nodded slightly and spoke from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Question is: will he go with them to Labienus where he won’t have to deal with Crassus, or would he rather go south and keep his eye on his men?’

  He became aware that Caesar was glaring at him.

  ‘Sorry sir. Go on.’

  The general took a deep breath and then focused on Sabinus, standing at the back of the room.

  ‘Are you still up for a command, Sabinus?’

  ‘Of course, general.’

  ‘Good. I’m giving you the weaker legions, I’m afraid. Take the Twelfth, who are still busy training and reequipping, the Fourteenth who are still very green and a little… Gallic… if you get my drift,
and most of the Ninth.’ He scanned the room for the legates of those legions and spotted Rufus near the door.

  ‘Sabinus acts with the full authority of praetor over the three legions, while you’ll each maintain command of your individual legions. However, I require three cohorts of the Ninth to join the navy as marines. The Ninth had experience of naval combat near Saguntum a few years ago, so they may be useful.’

  Rufus saluted, his expression neutral.

  Sabinus frowned. ‘What am I to do then, General?’

  ‘You’ll take the Ninth, Tenth and Fourteenth up toward the north coast. Do whatever you have to in order to keep those tribes from marching south and joining the Veneti. Keep the peace if you can; keep them subdued if not.’

  Sabinus nodded.

  ‘Good,’ the general said, leaning back. ‘That means the rest of you are with me. The Eighth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Thirteenth will be moving against the Veneti, backed by Brutus’ fleet. I intend to put this situation in order as fast as possible. I need to be back in Rome in the autumn, and I don’t want to drag this out.’

  Balbus cleared his throat.

  ‘We can move as soon as the roving cohorts return, general, but are we leaving a garrison here? We could be in danger of letting the locals rise up behind us, given how I hear they’ve been treated during the winter.’ He cast a quick glance at Crassus, who glared back balefully at the veiled accusation.

  The general rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

  ‘I was trying to avoid it. We can’t really spare the men.’

  ‘There is another solution…’

  They turned to Crispus, who was smiling, a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The Labienus solution? We are, after all, trying to Romanise the land and enforce the pax Romana? A little trust given goes a long way to receiving more in return.’

  Caesar frowned. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  Crispus smiled.

  ‘No caretaker garrison. We speak to their leaders, who have been dispossessed and moved across the river. We thank them for their help and support. We tell them that we are moving on and apologise for inconveniencing them. When we leave, we leave them some of our surplus supplies… we don’t have many, but Cita has more coming in from the south. They will have their oppidum back, but we have cleaned it, strengthened it, constructed an aqueduct channel from the springs to the north, and stockpiled goods. To give it back to them might go some way to repairing our somewhat tattered reputation and make our task easier?’