Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (36 page)

“
We have fought and burned our way from Lutetia all the way
here, Caesar. The main force was absent, fighting you, though even
their women and children fought us as best they could. It was
tragic really. I dislike having to take war against
women.”

Caesar
nodded.

“
It is tragic, and all soldiers try not to, but sometimes
civilians will just not listen to reason and must resist. I hope
you have not incurred too many casualties?”

Divitiacus
shrugged again.

“
Hardly any until the Bellovaci returned to their lands. About
a week ago we started to meet actual warriors in small tribes. We
have fought and defeated each small army we came across, but were
always surprised at their low numbers until yesterday. Then we
discovered where they have all gone.”

Caesar raised
an eyebrow.

“
They are in the greatest oppidum they control; a town called
Bratuspantium, about a mile down the valley from here. There
they’ve held against us for four days and have caused us a lot of
deaths. We outnumber them, but they’re in a strong position and
won’t sally forth to deal with us.”

Caesar
nodded.

“
But now the Aedui will join Rome on the field and the
Bellovaci will tremble before our might.”

Divitiacus
shook his head.

“
I’m afraid not, Caesar. The Bellovaci will not sue for peace
as others have. They are too proud. Their warriors would rather die
than submit to Rome. Even their women and children, as we’ve
seen.”

Caesar
frowned, thoughtfully.

“
But it will take days to remove them from an oppidum, even
with my best engineers. If they will not come out to meet us and
they will not accept treaty, then we must make them bow before
us!”

Priscus caught
a glimpse of the general’s face as he addressed the Aedui chieftain
and he knew that look. He hardened himself for whatever he was
about to overhear.

After a
moment, Caesar turned to Labienus and Sabinus, both of whom sat
ahorse behind him.

“
I assume Fronto took prisoners after that fracas by the Aisne?
Are any of them Bellovaci?”

Sabinus
nodded.

“
Almost a hundred, some pretty badly wounded though. They’re
chained up at the rear of the supply column, in the charge of the
Thirteenth.”

Caesar
nodded.

“
In a minute we’re going to move out to Bratuspantium. While we
do, have the prisoners brought forward under guard.”

Bratuspantium
was, as had been intimated, an impressive fortress, with thick,
high walls and a wide ditch, as defensive as Noviodunum and more
besides. The Bellovaci lined the walls, with archers, slingers,
stone and spear-throwers ready to repel any threat. They were
clearly no more concerned about the arrival of seven legions of
Romans than they were about the large numbers of Aedui that had
been whittling down the defenders through great attrition for days
now.

Priscus stood
in his accustomed position at the head of the Tenth and the front
of the Roman column, with only Caesar’s staff between him and the
defences of the Bellovaci. From here he could see the prisoners
being marched along the side of the column; mostly the walking
wounded, with occasional old men and the braver women who had
accompanied their tribe into battle.

A good job
Fronto wasn’t here. The legate was conscious now, but would remain
with the medical staff until tomorrow morning for observation. It
was, Priscus thought, a damn good thing. There was a man
accompanying the prisoner column who the primus pilus recognised; a
man whose job it was to extract information from a reticent source.
Every legion had such a man, though they were rarely called upon.
This one, Manlius of the Ninth, had a reputation that surpassed the
others, and which made him Caesar’s first choice for that least
pleasant of activities.

The Gauls of
the Thirteenth Legion marched the prisoners out ahead of the
column, to where Caesar and Sabinus stood, alongside Divitiacus.
Priscus was close enough to hear the low conversation between the
army’s leaders, intended to be unheard by the legions.

“
What do you intend to do?” Divitiacus sounded
nervous.

“
I shall persuade the Bellovaci to peace.”

“
You will execute their fellows?”

“
In a manner of speaking…” Caesar turned that frightening feral
smile on him and then, as the prisoners were lined up, he cleared
his throat and called out in a voice loud enough to reach the walls
of Bratuspantium and be heard within.

“
Leaders and warriors of the Bellovaci…”

He gestured
with both arms widely.

“
You have shut yourself in a trap. My army will slowly close
that trap and squeeze you to death, if that is your will. I have
been warned that you will not surrender to the will of Rome and
that you will not fight us in open and honourable warfare.
Therefore you leave me no choice but to use every weapon at my
disposal to make you accept our will.”

He turned and
gestured to Manlius, who began, with the aid of two legionaries
from the Thirteenth, to hammer a huge stake into the ground and
bind ropes to it.

Caesar nodded,
stony-faced.

“
I give you this first great chance to prevent further
bloodshed and to make peace with Rome. What is your
answer?”

There was a
resounding silence in answer to his call.

“
Very well. Continue, centurion Manlius…”

Priscus
watched with growing unease as an old man with a leg wound was
drawn, limping, from the column of prisoners and tied tightly to
the stake. His worst fears were confirmed when Manlius collected
from his kit a small flask of oil and drizzled it over the old
man’s head. The torturer stopped in front of the prisoner and gave
him an unpleasant grin. Priscus felt like applauding as the
prisoner spat a mixture of oil and saliva in the centurion’s face.
Centurions like Manlius gave the rank a bad name. The job might be
a necessary one at times, but there was no call for anyone to enjoy
it so much.

Priscus looked
away as Manlius worked the firesteel with a flicking noise. Keeping
his head erect and straight, the primus pilus focused instead on
Divitiacus of the Aedui, whose own face had become a mask of
horror. Yes…a damn good job Fronto wasn’t here right now. There was
a sudden explosive noise just out of his field of vision to the
right, accompanied by an agonised shrieking.

Caesar, he
noticed, barely blinked.

For three
minutes they stood in silence like a still painting on the wall of
a villa, locked in the seemingly eternal torture of a relative
innocent. Three minutes though, Priscus knew, for he counted each
second past as Caesar stared at the oppidum while Divitiacus stared
at him. And throughout each tick in his mind, the sound of burning
slowed and quietened to become the crackle and hiss of crisping
flesh and burning fat.

Priscus’ teeth
ground as Caesar once more addressed the Bellovaci.

“
That is one of your people. Possibly the father of one of you
on the walls? He is dead. Painfully, horribly, and unnecessarily
dead. Because you will not listen to reason. I offer peace and an
end to this horror. What is your answer?”

There was a
silence once more. Caesar placed his hands on his hips and drew a
breath, but Divitiacus stepped in front of him.

“
General, this is not war. This is torture and murder. Let us
tear down their walls instead. It is slow, but it is
war!”

Caesar’s eyes
flicked briefly to him and then back to Bratuspantium.

“
I have almost a hundred other fathers, wives and children
here” he called, “and be sure that before we reach the end, my
legions will have rounded up others; farmers and woodsmen of your
kin that live nearby. I will do what I must to end this war
today.”

He waited, as
Divitiacus shook gently, and turned to Manlius.

“
A woman this time. Quartered.”

Priscus took a
very deep breath and kept his head rigidly straight, his eyes on
the officers. Off to his right, he heard the sound of a woman being
restrained and then, slowly and horrifically, even over her
screams, he could hear the sound of the saw. Behind him among the
men, someone vomited.

Divitiacus
growled at the general.

“
I will have none of this, Caesar. If you persist in this
madness, the Aedui will leave.”

Caesar turned
the coldest, most snake-like expression Priscus had ever seen on
the leader of the Aedui.

“
You are treaty-bound with Rome. If you leave this field you
will break that treaty and I will be forced to deal with the Aedui
instead. Do you value your ethics enough to make an enemy of Rome
and myself?”

For a long
moment, Divitiacus wavered, and then finally nodded and, turning,
went to join his army who were looking on this display of Roman
might with a mix of astonishment and horror. The screaming had
stopped and Priscus could hear the sounds of several things being
dragged across the grass. He winced as Caesar once more addressed
the Bellovaci.

“
I tire of asking, so this will be the last time I speak to
you. You have only to accept Roman law and this will end. Until you
do so, I will continue to deal with your kin.” He turned and
addressed the men beside him, but loud enough to be heard as far as
the walls.

“
Manlius? Continue your work. Be creative and very visual.
Allow one minute only between victims. Sabinus? Have a party of
three alae of cavalry sent out to round up any of the Bellovaci
they can find outside the city. Labienus? Have camp set here. We
may be here for the night.”

Once again,
Divitiacus left the folds of the Aedui and marched across to the
general.

“
Caesar? What can we do to stop this?”

The general
glared at his ally.

“
The Aedui have no more part in this. You will remain here
until Bratuspantium falls and, once the Bellovaci are with us, you
will retire to your own lands and stay out of trouble. Unless I
call for you again, the Aedui are forbidden from forming an
army.”

Divitiacus
stared at him.

“
And be grateful that I am sending you back. Rome needs strong
allies, not weak ones!”

The two
leaders stood, locked in an embrace of mutual dislike and distrust
as the screaming started once more behind them.

The purple
twilight dwindled as Priscus sighed and walked over to the medical
cart where Fronto lay recovering. The sun had set only a quarter of
an hour ago and there was still a deep cerulean glow about the
valley. Fronto groaned.

“
Where the hell have you been? I hope you’ve brought
wine.”

Priscus shook
his head.

“
No wine for you for a few days. Got some for me though. Need
to celebrate… or something.”

“
What’s happened?”

Priscus sighed
again.

“
The gates of Bratuspantium opened an hour ago and the
Bellovaci submitted unconditionally to Caesar’s whim.”

Fronto smiled
and then winced at the pain on his scalp.

“
The old bastard. He may have dropped Paetus in the shit, but
he can still win over the enemy, can’t he, the silver-tongued old
snake?”

“
I suppose so” agreed Priscus soberly, picturing the scores of
charred and dismembered bodies he’d watched being shovelled into a
pit on the way here.

“
Yes, I suppose so.”

Chapter 13

(River valley
outside Samarobriva)

“
Samarobriva: oppidum on the Somme River, now called
Amiens.”

“
Mare Nostrum: Latin name for the Mediterranean Sea (literally
‘Our Sea’)”

Fronto frowned
as the column came to a halt once more and Priscus grumbled
irritably next to him. They both shaded their eyes again to see the
small party of riders making their way toward the Roman force from
the open gate of Samarobriva, capital of the Ambiani.

“
Just the leaders, I’m sure of it” the legate noted, his frown
deepening. “Not even an honour guard. What the hell is going on? Is
this really the Belgae?”

Priscus
shrugged noncommittally.

“
Are you complaining about not having to besiege that
place?”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
Well no… just what did Caesar do to the Bellovaci, ‘cause
whatever it was apparently frightened the shit out of their
neighbours?”

Priscus
grasped Fronto’s shoulder and leaned close enough to whisper in his
ear.

“
How much do you trust me?”

“
With my life, you know that.”

“
Then take my word for it... you don’t want to know and it’ll
do no good getting all riled up about it. Suffice it to say that it
was one of those ‘Julian moments’ that you despise.”

Fronto rumbled
deep in his throat.

“
I can well imagine. Ah well. Nemesis always marks those that
need taking down. Either Caesar really does have the blood of
Venus, or one day Nemesis will have her way with him.”

Priscus
smiled.

“
Very pious, I’m sure. I don’t know about Nemesis, but I’m
pretty sure there are a few senators that would like to wedge their
foot up his arse.”