Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (34 page)

Despite
Caesar’s earlier desire to press on with the campaign, he seemed to
have changed his mind and over two weeks had passed since the deal
had been struck between them and the Suessiones, during which time
the senior officers had been closeted away, leaving the legions and
the auxiliary units to their own devices.

Fronto had
been called regularly to staff meetings, though his input had been
minimal, he being entirely uninterested in facts, figures and
agreements regarding supply, levying of new auxiliaries and the
terms and conditions of the alliance. Fronto had taken every
possible opportunity to slip away and relax, though most of the
people he would generally relax with were also required to attend
those meetings.

He had tried
to get into the oppidum to make use of the local taverns as the
lower ranks were doing when off-duty, but had spotted that
Bellovaci woman again in the square with a face like thunder and
had hurriedly left without a drink.

And so he had
been forced to turn elsewhere for a drinking companion, and had
been pleasantly surprised at the good company he had found entirely
by accident.

Galronus of
the Remi smiled at Fronto as he shook the dice.

“
My Latin getting better, yes?”

Fronto
nodded.

“
It was never bad, but you’ll be fluent in no time. Long before
I learn any of your tongue, anyway.”

Galronus
laughed.

“
Your language easy. My language hard.”

“
No argument from me.” He sighed. “When the hell is Caesar
going to move on, I wonder. A few weeks ago he was hopping from
foot to foot, willing to throw away good men just to get moving and
wade into the Belgae… no offense meant, Galronus… but now he’s
spending all his time in talks with the king of the Suessiones and
the legions are getting bored.”

The Remi
nobleman grinned.

“
I think your speech make him want to be friends with
Belgae?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
You don’t know the general. He’s about as sentimental as a
sword-point. He only went along with what I said because it was
advantageous to him and I made it clear. Besides,” he sighed, “I’ve
noticed that the Belgae don’t generally seem interested in peace
with Rome.”

He leaned
forward, drawing close to Galronus.

“
The strange thing is: we’ve had some hard fights so far, don’t
get me wrong, but not what I was expecting from what people say of
the Belgae. Half the northern world is frightened of you, yet we
actually had a harder time fighting Ariovistus, or the Helvetii
even.”

He noted the
faintly offended look in the nobleman’s eyes.

“
I mean no offence. It’s just that the massive army we fought
by the Aisne could have pounded us into the ground but, the moment
they lost the overwhelming advantage, they just ran and kept on
running while we carved slices off their arse.”

Galronus
nodded thoughtfully, so Fronto drew a breath and went on.

“
And the Suessiones gave up without a fight, despite the fact
that they were theoretically in charge of the whole
affair.”

Another nod,
and the Belgic warrior leaned back, taking a swig of frothy beer
from his mug.

“
The Suessiones unsure. Remember, Suessiones are our brothers.
Many not wanted to fight Rome in first place. Amazing works of
Tetricus tipped balance in council against ones who want war. This
why we want mercy for Suessiones from Caesar.”

He shook his
head.

“
Big army running is different. You think they flee, but they
not flee. They return to own lands. Belgae not used to fighting
together in big army. All fight better as own tribes. You
see?”

Fronto
nodded.

“
I see, but they’re wrong. The only way they could beat Caesar
is if they all gather together. As smaller individual tribes, we
will beat them. It’s a foregone conclusion. But one thing still
worries me…”

“
Yes?”

“
Well even that huge army we fought by the Aisne that’s now
dispersed was maybe half the army that had been reported building
to Caesar. So where’s the other half? We’ve seen nothing of them
yet.”

Galronus’
expression darkened.

“
North. Many enemy wait to north. There the worst. Small tribes
Rome meets here fight and lose, or ask Caesar for peace. Not in
north though. Atrebates… Aduatuci…” his voice lowered menacingly.
“Nervii…”

Fronto
frowned.

“
The Nervii are bad then?”

The nobleman
nodded emphatically.

“
Most dangerous tribe in world. Nervii are rabid dogs. They
already threaten to skin leaders of Remi alive for friends with
Rome, and they do it too if they get chance. Nervii skinned King of
Menapii when he made deal with Germans, in front of wife and
children. Nervii vicious… but Atrebates cunning. Nervii and
Atrebates together is trouble for Rome. And with Aduatuci, who very
German…”

Fronto sighed.
He really had almost convinced himself that the Belgae were going
to smile and turn to join Rome in light of recent events, but it
now looked like this was the veritable calm before the storm.

The tent fell
silent as the two men considered the future, until a minute later
there came a knock at the door.

“
Yes?”

The flap was
pulled aside and Priscus and Balventius, the lead centurions of the
Eighth and Tenth Legions strode in. Priscus looked unhappy, but
Balventius’ face would have frightened Vulcan himself. Fronto
looked up, worried.

“
What’s happened?”

“
We’ve had two riders arrive” Priscus announced, reaching for
the jug of wine that habitually occupied the surface nearest the
door of Fronto’s tent. “An Aedui scout went to see Caesar. He
wasn’t absolutely knackered, so I assume the Aedui are close. And
if the Aedui are close that means they’re dealing with the
Bellovaci, which means that Caesar’s probably going to move
us.”

“
And?” prompted Fronto, still looking at Balventius’ glowering
face dubiously.

“
And another rider came in just now from the south” grumbled
Balventius darkly, reaching for the wine and pouring himself a
large mug.

Fronto
frowned.

“
If we’re likely to be moving shortly, I suggest that you two
might want to water that down. Won’t look good if you have to call
the muster and you’re swaying.”

Balventius
growled and drank deep, pouring himself a second mug.

“
The other rider was once of Varus’ men; one of the ones you
sent to Rome, to your sister?”

Fronto
stared.

“
No. It’s been… what… just over three weeks? He’d have had to
do sixty miles a day. He’d have killed his horse!”

Balventius
nodded.

“
They rode hard to get there, but sent one man on ahead on the
way back. He’s been riding like the wind and changing horses at
every mansio or Gaulish village. When he arrived, Varus told him to
find me, because you’d be in with Caesar. I, of course, knew
better.”

The primus
pilus sat heavily in an empty chair and drank down a second mug of
wine in one long gulp.

Fronto
growled.

“
For Dis’ sake, Titus, tell me what happened!”

“
The riders delivered your message, and your sister gave them a
reply and sent them off as fast as they could to get to
you."

He held out a
scroll, its wax seal neatly snapped in half.

“
You opened a private sealed message from my sister to me?”
Fronto stared, astounded.

“
In the circumstances, it was likely to be important to
me.”

Balventius
shrugged.

“
For Gods’ sake, Fronto, stop moaning and read it!”

The legate
unrolled the scroll and ran his gaze down the message. As he did
so, Galronus unfolded his legs and started to climb to his
feet.

“
This private…”

Fronto grasped
the man’s wrist and pulled him back down.

“
Oh, Nemesis!”

Balventius
nodded and passed the mug of wine over to him.

“
What the matter?” Galronus asked.

“
Oh, shit.”

As he reached
out and took a deep pull of the wine Balventius had handed him, the
tent flap was thrown open and light streamed in. Fronto squinted
into the bright sunshine.

“
This is private…”

His voice
tailed off as he recognised the bald, moon face of Balbus
silhouetted in the doorway.

“
Caesar’s calling the legions to order in a few hours, Marcus,
but he wants you at the meeting now.”

Fronto
growled.

“
The cowardly, lying, shit-heeled bastard can damn well do
without me.”

Balbus stared
and let the flap drop into place behind him.

“
What’s up?”

Fronto threw
the scroll at him with some force.

“
We were too late. Paetus’ family paid the price for being
friends with the great Caesar.”

Balbus’ face
fell. He started to unroll the scroll, but instead placed it on the
cupboard top.

“
What happened?”

“
In detail? ‘Cause she’s given me plenty of detail? The kids
were drowned in the Tiber, as was the old man. But as for his wife,
Calida…”

Balbus held
his hand up.

“
I think I know all I want to, and I can guess the rest.
This’ll destroy Paetus altogether. Do we tell him now?”

Balventius
reached out for the wine again from Fronto and shook his head
sadly.

“
We’ll have to. Fronto’s rider almost killed himself trying to
get here fast to give us the news before the official courier
arrives to find Paetus. I think we’ll have a day or two at most.
It’s not a nice job. Anyone want to take it on?”

The room went
silent, the three other Roman officers averting their gaze as
Balventius looked back and forth between them. Galronus
frowned.

“
I not understand. Maybe too private for me, eh?”

Balbus noticed
the Remi nobleman for the first time with surprise.

“
It’s a little complicated, my friend, but there are people in
Rome and even here in the army that would like to see Caesar fail.
And a particularly nasty individual in Rome has just killed one of
our men’s wife and children.”

Galronus
nodded.

“
Like Nervii. I was tell Fronto about them. Nasty.”

Fronto
sighed.

“
I’ll tell him, Balventius.”

The primus
pilus shook his head.

“
I wasn’t serious, Fronto. This is my job…”

The legate cut
him off with a low growl.

“
I’m not going to face Caesar right now. If I do, there’s a
distinct possibility I might re-enact the death of a King in the
hands of the Nervii. I wonder what the general would look like
without his skin?”

Balbus grabbed
his wrist.

“
Don’t do anything stupid, Fronto. If you’re going to see
Paetus, just do that. Tell him everything, but try to keep both of
you calm and be sympathetic. And stay the hell away from Caesar for
a few days. I’ll tell Caesar about it.”

Fronto nodded
unhappily and turned to Priscus.

“
You’re in command of the Tenth for the moment. I have other
duties. If Caesar wants to see the legate of the Tenth, that’s you.
Understand?”

Priscus nodded
as he reiterated Balbus’ words.

“
Stay calm and don’t do anything stupid, Marcus.”

“
I am calm,” Fronto growled as he stood and retrieved his belt
and scabbard from the cot. “I am calm like death.”

Without a
glance back at them, he strode purposefully out of the tent.

* * * * *

The legions
had been on the march again for eight hours and Priscus was
starting to worry that Fronto had snapped. While the officers had
attended Caesar’s campaign meeting and the legions themselves had
prepared to break camp, Fronto had gone off to find the camp
prefect. Paetus had been extremely busy and it had taken a great
deal of dragging to get him away from his tasks. After that, Fronto
and the prefect had disappeared into the man’s tent, where they had
remained for the night, the only sign they were still alive being
the request for alcohol sent to the quartermaster.

The next
morning, Priscus had formed up the Tenth and started them moving
with the rest of the legions and still Fronto had been nowhere to
be seen. With thousands of men to command and get moving, Priscus
had had no time to enquire of his superior. Fronto had put him in
temporary command of the Tenth, and the primus pilus knew that
meant that Fronto would be absent for a while.

But now? Eight
hours travel and no sign of him?

He really was
beginning to worry. Priscus knew his commander better than any
other man and Fronto, for all his practical, worldly attitude, was
actually a lot more soft and emotional than most people realised.
Priscus had always suspected that was what lay behind the fact that
Fronto was still single and uninvolved in anything political. He
was so damn prey to his emotions that he deliberately steered clear
of things that he knew would mess him around.

“
Sod this” he announced to nobody in particular. Turning to the
signifer of the First Cohort, he made a sour face.