Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (32 page)

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 five bloody minutes 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 ten minutes?” 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 ‘above-ground 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 utilize 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.”

He ignored the
glare he was receiving from the quartermaster and his grin
widened.

“
But, on the other hand, since it’s costing so much each time,
we’d best make it worth it. Have another five or six amphorae sent
to my tent, will you?”

As Cita
started to shake, slowly, Fronto tossed him a loose sestertius and
turned with Crispus to wander back toward his headquarters
area.

Several hours
later, Fronto exploded with laughter and had to wipe the wine from
his chin as Sabinus ended a tale of misspent youth with a
side-splitting punch line. The officers seated around the legate’s
tent rocked with mirth.

Sabinus
grinned at his companions. By the time Fronto’s tent had been put
up and his gear set out inside, almost a dozen officers had
gathered to relax in the notorious officer’s company. Crispus
wheezed and took a deep breath but, as he opened his mouth to
speak, there was a heavy knock at the door.

Fronto cleared
his throat.

“
Yes?”

A legionary,
ruddy-faced and out of breath, leaned in through the doorway.

“
Sir? We have movement at the gate of Noviodunum. The duty
centurion asked me to find you…”

Fronto stood,
wobbling gently, his legs unsteady after an hour cross-legged on
the floor.

“
Thank you. We’ll be along presently.”

As the soldier
retreated and let the tent flap fall shut, Fronto struggled into
his boots and the men around him hurriedly replaced their drinks on
the table and hauled themselves upright.

“
What do you suppose this is?” Crispus queried. “They can’t be
trying sorties against us, surely?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
No. Let’s go have a look.”

The officers
finished suiting up, adjusted their accoutrements, and strode in a
businesslike fashion out of the tent and through the newly
completed camp. A minute later they arrived at the gate and gazed
across the grass to the impressive oppidum. A small party of men,
three of them on horseback, were slowly approaching the Roman
force.

Squinting,
Fronto spied the traditional animal standards and bronze equipment
of Belgic noblemen and their guards. Likely these were top men
among the Suessiones. Briefly his memory flashed back to
Bibrax.

“
Gods, I hope someone there speaks Latin.”

The officers
gathered around the open gate parted as the familiar voice of
Labienus called out “make way for Caesar!”

The general
strode out to the front to stand between Sabinus and Fronto.

“
Ambassadors. They perhaps hope to make terms?”

Fronto
shrugged. He fervently hoped so. A siege was a messy way to make
war, and they could do with the tribes in the south all being at
peace with Rome. He looked up again as the Belgae closed and reined
in. One of the three riders, an old man with white-grey braided
hair raised his spear in a non-threatening fashion, holding it
sideways and casting it to the floor in front of the group.