Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (2 page)

Crispus
laughed.

“
He has us there, Marcus.”

As they
approached the gate of the first camp, a small knot of guards by
the strong palisade came sharply to attention. The three officers
returned their salute and drew to a halt. Fronto turned to Crispus
and raised an eyebrow.

“
You got ten minutes before you head to the
Eleventh?”

The young
legate nodded.

“
They’ve managed months without me. I doubt that another few
minutes will cause consternation.”

Grasping the
reins of his companion’s horse, Fronto handed them and his own to a
legionary.

“
Have them both fed and watered and brush them down. When
you’ve finished with Bucephalus, have him stabled. The legate here
will need his horse shortly to head back to the Eleventh, so make
sure it’s ready.”

The soldier
nodded, bowed hurriedly, and led the two beasts off in the
direction of the Tenth’s cavalry section. As the rest of the
legionaries stood aside, Fronto and his companions strode into camp
and made for the praetorium at the centre. The men of the Tenth
saluted as the three officers passed, and then immediately returned
to their tasks. As they reached the command building at the centre,
Fronto glanced sidelong at his chief centurion.

“
Alright, Priscus. You always know more about what’s going on
than anyone else. Give us the lowdown. I want to be prepared when
Caesar arrives.”

The primus
pilus nodded at the guards by the door and gestured inside to his
companions. Fronto and Crispus strolled into the main room and
behind them Priscus addressed the various clerks in the
headquarters.

“
Go about your work elsewhere and take the guards with you.
Make sure we’re not disturbed.”

The actuarii
gathered together their wax tablets and scrolls and hurried out,
their arms full, bowing awkwardly as they left. Once they were
alone, Priscus dropped his helmet and vine staff onto the low table
near the door.

“
I can certainly make a healthy guess as to why the general
sent for you all.”

Fronto dropped
heavily onto a bench and reached out for a jug of water and a
goblet, directing a questioning look to Crispus. The young man
joined him on the bench, nodding, and, as Fronto poured two goblets
of iced water, Priscus sighed.

“
We’re not popular out here.”

“
Nothing new there,” muttered Fronto. “We spent last year
fighting one bunch of Celts on behalf of another bunch of Celts and
from their point of view I can see how they might think it’s none
of our business.”

“
It’s not just that, Marcus” the primus pilus continued. “If
we’d stopped at that, I think there’d be peace now. But the Gauls
all thought the legions would be going home. I think we’ve pissed a
lot of people off by not just staying in Gaul, but so far outside
our own territory. They think we’re here to stay.”

He reached out
for the jar and a goblet.

“
And I think they’re right.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
There’s no doubt in my mind that Caesar already sees an eagle
planted in the middle of Gaul with all the tribes in its
shadow.”

Crispus nodded
sadly.

“
I do believe that the general intends to climb the cursus
honorum until he can reach the very Gods themselves. And the first
step to that is to attain a great conquest.”

A chorus of
nods greeted that comment.

“
So what you’re saying,” Fronto glanced at Priscus, “is that
trouble’s brewing among the tribes?”

The centurion
nodded.

“
You remember that assembly of the Gaulish chiefs we had at
Bibracte last year?”

A nod.

“
Well that’s some great big annual event. And it’s happened
twice this year already. And the worrying thing is, from what I
hear, that none of the tribes allied to Rome were invited to either
of them. But the word is that it wasn’t just Gauls either; some
German chiefs and the leaders of the Belgae were
included.”

Crispus
frowned.

“
Sounds awfully like the northern tribes are gearing up to
protest the Roman presence, doesn’t it?”

Priscus
nodded.

“
We’ve had a rash of desertions among the Gaulish levies too.
Then there’s the native scouts. They’ve been riding in and out of
the city for months, and they all have Labienus’ permission to go
anywhere they like. They disappear into the headquarters in
Vesontio for a few hours, then resupply and ride out again. Then
the next day another one arrives. It’s even got me a bit jumpy,
truth be told…”

“
Spies and scouts everywhere… that’s Caesar’s doing. He’ll have
had Labienus keeping a very close eye on things while he was
away.”

He
frowned.

“
But the immediate question is: how prepared to we need to be?
Has Caesar called us all back early in case the Gauls collectively
decide its time to kick some Roman backside, or does he know
something we don’t?”

Crispus shook
his head.

“
It’s a problem, for certain. Perhaps we should enquire of
Labienus?”

“
Shortly,” Fronto agreed. “First you have to go show your face
to your men. Then, I’d suggest we meet up in a couple of hours and
go visit Balbus in his tent before we head into the city. Besides,
I’m absolutely shattered. I think a half hour with my boots off and
maybe a ‘hair of the dog’ is in order before I start running around
and panicking about agitated Gauls.”

Crispus
nodded.

“
You make a fair point, Marcus my good friend. I shall go and
renew my acquaintance with my officers.”

Fronto
smiled.

“
Your horse won’t be ready for you for fifteen minutes or so.
Might as well join me for a ‘hair’ eh?”

Crispus
grinned and reached across to the chest on which stood a small jar
of wine, while Fronto removed his boots with a deep sigh.

Priscus rolled
his eyes and picked up his vine staff.

“
If you don’t mind, I’ll go and find something useful to do.
Nice to see you both again, but if I spend ten minutes in the
company of those feet I’ll never breathe clear again.”

Wafting his
hand across his face, Priscus gripped his helmet and left the
building, his eyes screwed up tightly.

“
What?” demanded Fronto irritably as Crispus breathed in deep
ragged gasps between bursts of laughter.

* * * * *

Crispus burst
into a fresh bout of laughter. It had been over an hour since he’d
left Fronto’s camp, leading his freshly fed and groomed horse back
to his own unit. Though he’d not had time to visit the temporary
bathhouse, he had taken a quick dip in a tub of cold water, shaved,
and raked his hair straight. Dressed in clean clothes from his
pack, he once more felt human, though there was an insistent, if
gentle, thumping deep in his brain.

Which is why
the sight of Fronto, still dishevelled and covered in dust with a
hairstyle that… well ‘style’ was being excessively kind. Crispus
covered his mouth and sniggered gently. His peer from the Tenth
Legion smelled faintly like a dead bear.

“
I shall leap to the assumption that you do not really care
what Labienus thinks of you, Marcus? You look like you’ve had
accident with a quadriga and a midden.”

“
Shut up.”

Raking his
fingers through his unruly hair, where they caught in a tangle,
Fronto strode across to the gate of the Eighth Legion’s temporary
fortress. Despite his travel-worn state, he still wore his cuirass
and plumed helmet, along with the almost-red military cloak,
clearly marking him out as an officer. The guards at the gate stood
at attention and saluted, absolutely straight faced.

“
Shut up” he said again, this time to the legionaries whose
faces were so sombre that it was clear they were deliberately
forcing themselves not to smile.

Accompanied by
the grinning Crispus, Fronto strode up the Decumana towards Balbus’
headquarters. As with his own camp, soldiers saluted as they passed
and then went quickly about their business. He was starting to feel
a little better-humoured, despite the horrible pounding behind his
left eye, when a voice like a saw through marble called out from a
side street.

“
You look like shit!”

As his head
snapped angrily round, Titus Balventius, primus pilus of the Eighth
Legion, fell into step alongside him. Fronto opened his mouth and
then quickly bit back his acerbic retort. Getting into a battle of
insults with Balventius would be a perilous thing indeed.

“
Balventius. Did you leave at all during the winter? Did you go
and check out your new estate?”

The grizzled
veteran rolled his one good eye, the milky white one fixed firmly,
if disconcertingly, ahead.

“
I went back for a month or so. It’s nice, I suppose. Lots of
room. Spent a couple of weeks building a fence, bought some horses
and put ‘em in there. Then a bear came bumbling out of the woods
and the horses smashed my fence to pieces and bolted. I wrote half
of the property over to my brother and left him to sort out the
mess while I came back here.”

Crispus smiled
uncertainly.

“
I have no idea know why, Titus, but I’m having a little
difficulty picturing your brother.”

Balventius
glanced across at him and then turned to Fronto.

“
He sounds less posh? I’m not having to concentrate so hard to
follow him.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
I’ve been trying to drive out the orator in him and lower his
brow a bit, but I don’t think it worked. I think it’s all that
Gaulish beer that’s rotting his brain. That’s what’s done
it!”

Balventius
smiled. The effect was fairly frightening through his criss-crossed
network of scars.

“
My brother’s a lot like me,” he said, turning to Crispus. “But
less handsome. He’d still be serving under Pompey’s legions but he
got hamstrung about five years ago. He’s been living off his
honesta missio, but Pompey’s not as generous as Caesar. Half my
grant’s more than all of his.”

Fronto was
mulling over the difference between his own patron general and the
great Pompey as they arrived at the praetorium. Balventius nodded
to the guards outside and one of them knocked on the wooden door
before entering to announce their arrival. As the man returned and
stepped to one side, the ageing legate of the Eighth appeared in
the doorway, a broad grin splitting his face.

“
It’s about time!”

The bald,
round-faced commander disappeared back into the gloom of the
building and the three men looked at each other, shrugged, and
followed him in.

It took a few
minutes to become accustomed to the dim interior, but slowly their
eyes adjusted. Balbus took his seat behind a desk covered in unit
strength assessments, supply requests and training reports. With a
sigh of satisfaction, he leaned back in his chair and reached for
the glass of water nearby.

“
So what news of Hispania? Is it still standing?”

“
Ha, bloody ha!” Fronto grumbled, rubbing his
temple.

“
I do not think it was the campaign break that Marcus
anticipated,” Crispus smiled. “He had planned to visit Longinus’
estate to deliver the ashes and his goods and then move on to
Tarraco and spend the winter carousing. Severa had different ideas,
though.”

“
Severa?”

Fronto looked
at Balbus’ questioning expression, glared at Crispus and then
sighed.

“
Longinus’ wife. She… erm… took to me.”

“
She wouldn’t let him stay in Tarraco,” Crispus laughed.
“Insisted on looking after us personally. Sometimes very
personally, I suspect, eh Marcus?”

“
Anyway!” Fronto barked irritably, “Let’s get to the matter at
hand. I gather there’ve been stirrings among the Gauls.”

The humour
slid gently from Balbus’ face.

“
I rather think something’s in the wind. The Belgae are getting
themselves involved in Gaulish politics and, given their fearsome
reputation, that can’t be a good thing. I just hope this discontent
is limited. If it spreads among all the non-allied Gauls and
Belgae, we could be in trouble. Six legions is a lot, but not when
faced with a million angry Celts.”

“
Then the staff’s going to have its work cut out.”

The other two
looked questioningly at Fronto.

“
Well… you know Caesar. He’s got something up his sleeve. He
sent for us for a reason. Something’s about to happen, but it’s
going to have to involve people like us stamping a heavy Roman boot
on anyone who openly declares against us while people like Labienus
and Procillus trying to persuade the rest of Gaul that we’re doing
it for them. It’s that good old fine political line
again.”

Crispus
nodded.

“
And I cannot help but wonder whether Caesar uncovered anything
concerning that tribune Salonius and the conspiracies against him
at Vesontio, too?”

“
Indeed.” Everything went quiet for a moment as the four
officers looked at each other.

“
Jove, it’s good to see you boys again” beamed Balbus with a
sigh of relief.

Fronto leaned
back and ran his hands through his tangled hair once again.

“
How are Corvinia and the girls? Good I hope?”