5. Caesar

by Colleen McCullough

  All through the early days of a very hard and bitter winter Caesar drove the Carnutes from pillar to post. More of them died frozen in their fields than at the hands of the Seventh and the Fourteenth, for they had no shelter left, no homes, no havens. And a new attitude began to creep into Gallic behavior; where a year before the people of neighboring tribes would gladly have taken the refugees in and succored them, now they shut their doors and pretended no one cried for help. Attrition was beginning to work. Fear was conquering defiance. At the midpoint of April, with winter at its worst, Caesar left the Seventh and Fourteenth in Cenabum with Gaius Trebonius, and set off to see what was the matter with the Remi. "The Bellovaci," said Dorix simply. "Correus kept his men at home instead of going to the muster at Carnutum, and the two thousand he sent with Commius and his four thousand Atrebates came back from Alesia unscathed. Now Correus and Commius have allied themselves with Ambiorix, who has returned from across the great river. They've been scouring all the peatlands of Belgica for men Nervii, Eburones, Menapii, Atuatuci, Condrusi and further south and west too the Aulerci, Ambiani, Morini, Veromandui, Caletes, Veliocasses. Some of these peoples did not go to Carnutum; some survived intact by running quickly. A great many men are gathering, I hear." "Have you been attacked?" asked Caesar. "Not as yet. But I expect it." "Then I'd better move before you are. You've always honored your treaties with us, Dorix. Now it behooves me to act." "I should warn you, Caesar, that the Sugambri aren't happy at developments between you and the Ubii. The Ubii are waxing fat supplying you with horse warriors, and the Sugambri resent it. All the Germani, they say, should be so favored, not just the Ubii." "Which means the Sugambri are crossing the Rhenus to help Correus and Commius." "So I hear. Commius and Ambiorix are very active." This time Caesar called the Eleventh out of winter camp at Agedincum, and sent to Labienus for the Eighth and Ninth. Gaius Fabius was given the Twelfth and the Sixth and sent to garrison Suessionum on the Matroma River, dividing the lands of the Remi from those of the Suessiones. The scouts came in to report that Belgica was boiling, so the legions were shuffled round again: the Seventh was sent to Caesar, the Thirteenth was shifted to the Bituriges under Titus Sextius, and Trebonius inherited the Fifth Alauda to replace the Seventh at Cenabum. But when Caesar and his four legions entered the lands of the Bellovaci they found them deserted; serfs, women and children were attending to affairs at home while the warriors congregated. On, the scouts reported, the only piece of elevated and dry ground in the midst of a marshy forest to the northwest. "We'll do something a little different," said Caesar to Decimus Brutus. "Instead of marching one behind the other, we'll put the Seventh, Eighth and Ninth in columns agmen quadratum on a very broad front. That way the enemy will see our total strength immediately, and presume we're ready to wheel into full battle formation. The baggage will follow straight behind, and then we'll tuck the Eleventh into the rear of the baggage train. They'll never see it." "We'll look as if we're frightened. And only three legions strong. Good thinking." Sight of the enemy was a shock; there were thousands and thousands of them milling about that only piece of high, dry ground. "More than I expected," said Caesar, and sent for Trebonius, who was to pick up Titus Sextius and the Thirteenth on his way. There were feints and skirmishes while Caesar put his men into a very strong camp. Correus, in command, would draw up for battle, then change his mind. This despite the fact that it had been agreed he should attack while Caesar was possessed of no more than three legions. The cavalry Caesar had sent for from the Remi and Lingones arrived ahead of Trebonius, led by Dorix's uncle Vertiscus, a doughty old warrior eager for a fight. Because the Bellovaci had not followed Vercingetorix's scorched-earth policy, there was plenty of forage and grain to be had; as the campaign looked as if it might last longer than earlier expected, Caesar was anxious to acquire whatever extra supplies he could. Though Correus's army refused to leave their high ground and attack in force, they proved a great nuisance to the foragers until the Remi came. After that it was easier. But Vertiscus was too eager for his fight. Despising the size of the Belgic group sent to harry the foraging party they were escorting, the Remi took off in pursuit and were led into an ambush. Vertiscus died, much to the delight of the Belgae; Correus decided it was time for a mass attack. At which precise moment Trebonius marched up with the Fifth Alauda, the Fourteenth and the Thirteenth. There were now seven legions and several thousand horse troopers ringing the Belgae around, and the site which had seemed so perfect for attack or defense suddenly became a trap. Caesar built ramps across the marshes which divided the two camps, then took a ridge behind the Belgic camp and began using his artillery with devastating effect. "Oh, Correus, you missed your chance!" cried Commius when he arrived. "What use are five hundred Sugambri now? And what do you expect me to tell Ambiorix, who's still recruiting?" "I don't understand!" wept Correus, wringing his hands. "How did all those extra legions get here so quickly? I had no warning, and I should have had warning!" "There is never warning," said Commius grimly. "You've held aloof until now, Correus, that's your trouble. You haven't seen the Romans at work. They move by what they call forced marches they can cover fifty miles in a day. Then the moment they arrive they'll turn around and fight like wild dogs." "What do we do now? How can we get out?" That, Commius knew. He had the Belgae collect all the tinder, straw and dry brush they could find, and stockpile it. The camp was chaotic, everyone scrambling to be ready for the escape, women and hundreds of ox carts compounding the Roman-trained Commius's woes. Correus brought all his men out in battle formation and sat them on the ground, as was their custom. The day passed; no move was made save surreptitiously to pile the wood, straw, tinder and brush in front of the lines. Then at dusk it was set on fire from end to end; the Belgae seized their chance and fled. But the great chance had been lost. Caught while attempting an ambuscade, Correus found the steel and courage he had lacked when his position had been much better; refusing to retreat, he and the flower of his men perished. While the Belgae sued for peace, Commius crossed the Rhenus to the Sugambri and Ambiorix.

  By now the winter was ending; Gaul lay quiet. Caesar went back to Bibracte, sending thanks and donatives of cash and women to all the legions, who found themselves, by legionary terms, very rich. A letter awaited him, from Gaius Scribonius Curio.

  A brilliant idea, Caesar, to issue a collected edition of your Commentaries on the war in Gaul and make it available to all and sundry. All and sundry are devouring it, and the boni not to mention the Senate are livid. It is not the place, roared Cato, of a proconsul conducting a war he says was forced upon him to puff his exalted name and exaggerated deeds throughout the city. No one takes any notice. Copies go so fast there is a waiting list. Little wonder. Your Commentaries are as thrilling as Homer's Iliad, with the advantage of being actual, of happening in our own time. You know, naturally, that Marcus Marcellus the junior consul is being thoroughly odious. Almost everyone applauded when your tribunes of the plebs vetoed his discussing your provinces in the House on the Kalends of March. You have some good men on the tribunician bench this year. It appalled me when Marcellus went a lot further in announcing that the people of the colony you set up at Novum Comum are not Roman citizens. He maintained you have no power in law to do so yet Pompeius Magnus has! Talk about one law for this man and another law for that man Marcellus has perfected the art. But for the House to decree that the people living on the far side of the Padus in Italian Gaul are not citizens and never will be citizens that's suicide. Despite the tribunician veto, Marcellus went ahead and had the decree inscribed on bronze. Then hung it publicly on the rostra. What you probably do not know is that the result of all this is a huge shiver of fear from the Alps at the top of Italian Gaul to the toe and heel of Italia. People are very apprehensive, Caesar. In every town in Italian Gaul it's being said that they, who have given Rome so many thousands of her best soldiers, are being informed by the Senate that they are not good enough. Those living south of the Padus fear their citizenship will be stripped from them, a
nd those living north of the Padus fear they will never, never, never be awarded the citizenship. The feeling is everywhere, Caesar. In Campania I've heard hundreds of people saying that they need Caesar back in Italia that Caesar is the most indefatigable champion of the common people Italia has ever known that Caesar wouldn't stand for these senatorial insults and gross injustices. It's spreading, this apprehension, but can I or anyone else get it through those blockheads in the camp of the boni that they're playing with fire? No. Meantime that complacent idiot Pompeius sits like a toad in a cesspool, ignoring it all. He's happy. The frozen-faced harpy Cornelia Metella has her talons so deeply embedded in his insensitive hide that he nods, twitches, heaves and wallows every time she gives him a nudge. And by nudge I do not mean anything naughty. I doubt they've ever slept in the same bed. Or had one up against the atrium wall. So why am I writing to you when I've never really been your friend? Several reasons, and I'll be honest about them all. First is that I'm sick to death of the boni. I used to think that any group of men with the interests of the mos maiorum so much at heart had to have right on their side, even when they made appalling political errors. But of late years I've seen through them, I suppose. They prate of things they know nothing about, and that is the truth. It's a mere disguise for their own negativity, for their own utter lack of gumption. If Rome began to crumble around them physically, they'd simply stand there and call it a part of the mos maiorum to be squashed flat by a pillar. Second is that I abominate Cato and Bibulus. Two more hypocritical couch generals I've never encountered. They dissect your Commentaries in the most expert way, though neither of them could general a bun fight in a whorehouse. You could have done this better, and that more expeditiously, and whatever more diplomatically. Nor do I understand the blindness of their hatred for you. What did you ever do to them? As far as I can see, merely made them look as small as they really are. Third is that you were good to Publius Clodius when you were consul. His destruction was his own doing. I daresay that Claudian streak of unorthodoxy in Clodius became a form of insanity. He had no idea when to stop. It's well over a year since he died, but I still miss him. Even though we'd fallen out a bit at the end. Fourth is very personal, though it's all tied in with the first three reasons. I'm shockingly in debt, and I can't extricate myself. When my father died last year, I thought everything would right itself. But he left me nothing. I don't know where the money went, but it certainly wasn't there after he finished suffering. The house is all I inherited, and it's mortgaged heavily. The moneylenders are dunning me unmercifully, and the estimable house of finance which holds the house mortgage is threatening to foreclose. Added to which, I want to marry Fulvia. Well, there you are! I hear you say. Publius Clodius's widow is one of the wealthiest women in Rome, and when her mother dies it can't be long now she'll be a lot richer. But I can't do that, Caesar. I can't love a woman the way I've loved her for years and years, and marry her, up to my eyebrows in debt. The thing is, I never thought she'd look at me, yet the other day she threw me a hint so broad it flattened me. I'm dying to marry Fulvia, but I can't marry Fulvia. Not until I've paid my way and can look her in the eye. So here's my proposal. The way things are going in Rome, you're going to need the most capable and brilliant tribune of the plebs Rome has ever produced. Because they're slavering at the very thought of the Kalends of March next year, when your provinces come up for discussion in the House. Rumor has it that the boni will move to strip you of them immediately, and, thanks to the five-year law, they'll send Ahenobarbus to replace you. He never took a province after his consulship because he was too rich and too lazy to bother. But he'd walk upside down to Placentia for the chance to replace you. If you pay my debts, Caesar, I give you my solemn word as a Scribonius Curio that I will be the most capable and brilliant tribune of the plebs Rome has ever produced. And always act in your interests. I'll undertake to keep the boni at bay until I go out of office, and that's not a hollow promise. I need at least five million.

  For a long while after reading Curio's letter Caesar sat without moving. His luck was with him, and what marvelous luck. Curio as his tribune of the plebs, bought and paid for. A man of great honor, though that wasn't really a consideration. One of the most stringent rules of Roman political behavior was the code governing those who accepted bribes. Once a man was bought, he stayed bought. For the disgrace was not in being bought, but in not staying bought. A man who accepted a bribe, then reneged on the bargain, was a social outcast from that day forward. The luck lay in being offered a tribune of the plebs of Curio's caliber. Whether he would prove quite as good as he thought was beside the point; if he was half as good as he thought, he'd still be a pearl beyond price. Caesar turned in his chair to sit straight at his desk, picked up his pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and wrote.

  My dear Curio, I am overcome. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be permitted to assist you out of your financial predicament. Please believe me when I say that I do not require any services from you in return for the privilege of helping you in this matter. The decision is absolutely yours. However, if you would like the opportunity to shine as Rome's most capable and brilliant tribune of the plebs, then I would be honored to think you exerted yourself in my interests. As you say, I wear the boni around my neck like Medusa's snakes. Nor do I have any idea why they have fixed on me as their target for almost as many years as I have been in the Senate. The why is not important. What matters is the fact that I am indeed their target. However, if we are to succeed in blocking the boni when the Kalends of next March arrive, I think our little pact must remain our secret. Nor should you announce that you will stand for the tribunate of the plebs. Why don't you find some needy fellow not in the Senate who would be willing to announce himself as a candidate, but be prepared to step down at the very last moment? For a nice fat fee, of course. I leave that to you. Just apply to Balbus for the wherewithal. When the needy fellow steps down just as the elections are about to begin, stroll forward and offer yourself as his replacement candidate. As if the impulse came upon you. This renders you innocent of any suspicion that you might be acting in someone's interests. Even when you enter office as a tribune of the plebs, Curio, you will appear to be acting for yourself. If you want a list of useful laws, I would be happy to furnish it, though I imagine you'll have no trouble thinking of a few laws to pass without my guidance. When you introduce your veto on the Kalends of March to block discussion of my provinces, it will fall on the boni like a scorpion bolt. I leave it to you to devise a strategy. There's nothing worse than a man who doesn't give his colleagues sufficient rope. If you need to talk a strategy over, I am your servant. Just rest assured that I do not expect it. Though be warned that the boni are not yet come to the end of their ammunition. Before you step into office, I predict that they will have thought of several more ways to make your task more difficult. And possibly more perilous. One of the marks of the truly great tribune of the plebs is martyrdom. I like you, Curio, and don't want to see the Forum knives flash in your direction. Or see you pitched off the end of the Tarpeian Rock. Would ten million make you a completely free man? If it would, then you shall have ten million. I'll be writing to Balbus in the same bag, so you may talk to him at any time after you receive this. Despite what is seen as a tendency to gossip, he is the soul of discretion; what Balbus chooses to disseminate has been very carefully worked out beforehand. I congratulate you on your choice of a wife. Fulvia is an interesting woman, and interesting women are rare. She believes with a true passion, and will cleave to you and your aspirations absolutely. But you know that better than I. Please give her my best regards, and tell her I look forward to seeing her when I return to Rome.

  There. Ten million well spent. But when was he going to be able to return to Italian Gaul? It was June, and the prospect of being able to leave Further Gaul grew, if anything, more remote. The Belgae were probably now completely finished, but Ambiorix and Commius were still at liberty. Therefore the Belgae would have to be drubbed once more. The t
ribes of central Gaul were definitely finished; the Arverni and the Aedui, let off lightly, would not be listening to any Vercingetorix or Litaviccus again. As the name Litaviccus popped into his mind, Caesar shuddered; a hundred years of exposure to Rome hadn't killed the Gaul in Litaviccus. Was that equally true of every Gaul? Wisdom said that continued rule by fear and terror would benefit neither Rome nor Gaul. But how to get the Gauls to the point whereat they could see for themselves where their destiny lay? Fear and terror now, so that when it lightened they were grateful? Fear and terror now, so that they always had it to remember, even when it no longer existed? War was a passionate business to peoples other than the Roman people; those others went into war boiling with righteous anger, thirsting to kill their enemies. But that kind of emotion was difficult to sustain at the necessary fever pitch. When all was said and done, any people wanted to live at peace, pursue an ordinary and pleasant life, watch their children grow, eat plenty, be warm in winter. Only Rome had turned war into a business. That was why Rome always won in the end. Because, though Roman soldiers learned to hate their enemies healthily, they approached war with cool business heads. Thoroughly trained, absolutely pragmatic, fully confident. They understood the difference between losing a battle and losing a war. They also understood that battles were won before the first pilum was thrown; battles were won on the drill field and in the training camp. Discipline, restraint, thought, valor. Pride in professional excellence. No other people owned that attitude to war. And no other Roman army owned that attitude more professionally than Caesar's.