Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (45 page)

And the men
around him cheered as he passed; a commander so close to, and
beloved of, his men that Crispus could do no wrong. He grinned at a
centurion as he pushed past.

“
Just like harvest, eh, Publius?”

The centurion
laughed.

“
Reapin’ time, sir…”

Crispus
continued on, his eyes fixed on the crimson plume among the helmets
ahead.

“
Balbus?” he called, and the heavy-set legate of the Eighth
turned toward him as he raised his shield to ward off a blow. The
older officer, himself involved in the front line of combat, noted
the approach of his peer from the Eleventh and pulled back from the
worst of the fighting, allowing the line around him to close
up.

A moment
later, the two officers had retreated from the men desperately
defending the low, partially-constructed rampart against the
tremendous force that had swept down the hill and across the river.
Even though that central army was the largest concentration of the
enemy on the field, Crispus could see the reserves of the Belgae
waiting on the north bank to see where they were needed.

“
It would appear that these barbarians will not break, unlike
the Belgae we’ve faced before.”

Balbus
nodded.

“
They’re a hardy lot and I think we’ll have to kill the lot of
them. There’ll be no surrender.” He sighed. “My main worry is that
this could go either way. There’s a lot more of them than us, but
we’ve got experience, equipment and formation. It’s worryingly
possible that we’ll all just keep hacking at each other til there’s
nobody left on either side.”

Crispus
nodded.

“
We’ve got to do something. We have to turn the tide and start
pushing them back rather that just holding them off.”

Balbus
shrugged.

“
There’s precious little hope of that. The Twelfth are pinned
down and unlikely to hold unless the reserves arrive, and we’re
facing a large force, with another behind it. Even Rufus and Fronto
are too beleaguered to do anything.”

The younger
legate shook his head thoughtfully.

“
Not necessarily. That’s why I pulled out of the line and came
to find you. I’ve been scanning their ranks and I noticed the
standards.”

“
What about them?” Balbus asked, intrigued.

“
Those facing us are not Nervian ones, but the wolf standards
of the Viromandui.”

“
How in the name of Minerva do you know that?”

Crispus
shrugged.

“
I spent some time with the Remi auxiliary officers early in
the campaign, talking to them about their countrymen. It seemed
wise.”

“
Alright, so we’re facing the Viromandui then.”

“
Mostly, though there are, I believe, Nervii supporting them;
and the reserve across the river are Nervii. I don’t know what
tribes Fronto and the others are facing, but that’s not my
point.”

“
Then what is?” Even Balbus, a tremendously patient man, was
beginning to become tetchy with the loquacious young
legate.

“
Well, my friend, as our centurions wear crests for
identification and are accompanied by the signifers, the Belgae
leaders wear gold and armour and tend to be found around their own
standards.”

Balbus
frowned.

“
So we know where their leaders are, then.”

Crispus
smiled.

“
And if we know where their leaders are and we can manage to
get to them, there’s a possibility that we can break the spirit of
the tribe.”

Balbus’ face
split slowly into a wide grin.

“
The Twelfth can’t do much with that information, but we have
to tell that to Fronto and Rufus. Come on.”

The two
legates almost ran across the empty interior of the camp toward the
Ninth and Tenth, who were deeply embroiled in combat.

* * * * *

Varus stared
down the slope at the horrible events unfolding across the water.
The legions were clearly in trouble. As he watched, he saw a unit
pull away from the flank and run to aid the baggage train that had
suddenly come under attack. He growled and looked around himself.
He and the thirty six surviving cavalrymen on this side of the
Belgae’s barrier had rushed to the wooded edge of the slope during
the initial confusion and hidden themselves from the view of the
enemy.

Thousands of
Belgae lay between them and the river, let alone the legions
beyond. There were still thousands of cavalry beyond the hill where
they had charged blindly, but the part of the Belgic reserves that
had formed the fence from the spiked barriers were now manning it
with long spears to prevent Varus’ men from rejoining the
battle.

He couldn’t
see what was going on, but he knew his officers. By now the alae
would have reformed out of sight over that hill and would be moving
either east or west along the river to find a way to bypass the
reserves, cross the river, and rejoin the battle.

But in the
meantime, that left thirty seven horsemen in a perilous position,
hidden from the view of the enemy reserves and cut off from their
compatriots. He ground his teeth and nudged the trooper next to
him.

“
Did you see that?”

“
Sir?”

Varus pointed
at the far side of the battlefield.

“
Those men who attacked the wagons and got driven back? Most of
them rejoined their nearest group, but a few fled into the
woods.”

“
I didn’t see sir. But they’ll eventually get caught. Even
hiding in the woods.” The man sighed. “Unless we lose, of
course…”

Varus
grunted.

“
This is the narrowest and shallowest stretch of the river for
miles, yes?”

The man
nodded. “That’s what I heard, sir.”

“
Think we can find another way across?”

The trooper
looked unsure. “Who knows, sir? But we could have a look? Better
than sitting here and waiting for them to see us.”

Varus nodded.
That was certainly true. They were hidden here, but for how
long?

“
Pick a direction. Upstream or down?”

The trooper
shrugged.

“
Down, I guess, sir. That way, if we can get across, we might
be able to find those runaways you saw.”

“
Then downstream it is.” Varus turned and addressed the
assembled riders in tones just loud enough to hear but quiet enough
to not provoke the interest of the Belgic reserves.

“
Alright lads. We’re going to pick our way through these woods.
I know it’ll be tough, but if the Belgae can hide great log
contraptions in there, there’s likely room for us to work our way
through. And once we reach the far side, we’re going to descend the
slope to the water’s edge and head downstream until we can find a
way to cross.

There was a
silent chorus of nods. None of the men wanted to wait in the eaves
of the wood to be spotted by wandering barbarians. As quietly as
possible, the three dozen cavalrymen began to step their mounts
through the woodland.

The trees were
well spaced and the undergrowth almost entirely removed or trampled
down by the Belgae. The going was surprisingly easy, as long as
they kept their heads down and watched where they walked.

The journey
seemed to last forever, each man holding his silence and most
holding their breath. Gradually the sounds of desperate battle
faded with distance and the dampening effects of the trees, until
Varus decided they’d travelled far enough west and turned to move
down the slope. All was eerily quiet, save the whispering of the
leaves and the rustling of the occasional creature.

The trooper
behind Varus risked speaking in a low voice.

“
What do we do if we break cover and they’re there waiting for
us, sir?”

Varus
shrugged.

“
We fight like madmen, and we die like Romans.”

The gradient
gradually increased as they descended and slowly the trees began to
thin out until finally Varus stepped his horse out onto open turf
and looked up to the blue sky. Behind him the other troopers
quickly and quietly left the woodland, dropping down towards the
water.

The commander
frowned as they approached the barrier and he examined the river
with an eye to its crossing. It was deeper and faster here; that
was clear from one look at its dark, glassy surface. But it was
also too wide to jump. They would have to find another place
further downstream to try.

He scanned the
riverbank, but further ahead the woods came down to the water’s
edge and barred the path to cavalry. He growled. No way forward and
no point in sneaking back up through the woods to where they had
been trapped in the first place. They’d have to make their way
slowly back along the water’s edge toward the battle and hope they
could find a crossing point before they ran into the Belgic
reserves.

Today was
turning out to be a very bad day. Maybe Fronto was right, placing
his faith in Nemesis, rather than Fortuna.

Chapter 16

(Battle of the
Selle)

“
Pilus Prior: The most senior centurion of a cohort and one of
the more senior in a legion.”

Fronto grinned
at Balbus and Crispus.

“
It’s stupid. It’s dangerous; even suicidal and totally
stupid.”

Balbus smiled
at his friend.

“
You like it.”

“
You’re damn right I like it. We’ve got to do something to
break this, or we’re going to end up just overwhelmed by sheer
numbers.”

He
frowned.

“
Are you going to try the same thing?”

Crispus shook
his head.

“
I don’t think so. We’ve got the reserve force facing us as
well. If we break the Viromandui, they’re going to turn and run
straight into the Nervian reserves and then we’ll end up fighting
both lots at once. We have to wait until you succeed, then you can
get behind the reserves and we can push the Viromandui. If it all
works we can end up surrounding them and pushing them into the
river.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
Then I’ll see you when it’s over.”

As his two
fellow legates turned and headed back toward their struggling
legions, Fronto strode across to the small force of reserves from
the Tenth who were standing tensely waiting to plug any desperate
gaps.

“
Find the primus pilus and centurion Velius and tell them I
need to speak to them immediately.”

As men saluted
and pushed off through the crowd to find the officers, Fronto
spotted Labienus and waved to him. The commander strode over.

“
I was thinking perhaps I ought to be getting my hands dirty,
Fronto, rather than standing here like a fifth wheel.”

“
I’ve a more important request for you. I’m about to do
something suicidally reckless and you need to take command of the
Tenth again for a while.”

Labienus
frowned.

“
What are you up to?”

Fronto
laughed. “I hate repeating myself, so I’ll wait until Priscus and
Velius are here. I can see them coming now.”

The two
centurions pushed their way out of the press of men and marched up
the gentle incline to the waiting officers. Fronto looked them up
and down. Hardly an inch of them was not dented, dirty and covered
in blood. Velius strode with his hands behind his back. Fronto
frowned and, as the centurion came to a halt in front of him, he
drew his hands out in front.

“
Can I give you a hand, sir?”

Fronto and
Labienus stared at the severed appendage in the grizzled veteran’s
hand as Priscus exploded into laughter. Velius grinned and cast the
article to the ground nearby before straightening to attention.

Fronto
sighed.

“
Your sense of humour leaves something to be desired, Velius.
I’ve got a plan.”

Priscus raised
an eyebrow.

“
And naturally, whatever idiocy you have in mind includes
us?”

The legate
nodded.

“
I’ve been speaking to Crispus and he’s come up with an idea.
We can see the standard of the enemy. He says they’re the Atrebates
on this flank. Don’t know how he knows that, but he does. There are
three groups of standards out there, and that means their leaders
are likely beneath those animal heads. We think that maybe, if we
can wipe out their commanders, we can break their spirit and make
them run. The standards are relatively close to our lines, so we’ll
have to go straight head-on, rather than try to flank them and come
from behind.”

Priscus shook
his head.

“
It’s bloody dangerous. It relies on men actually getting
through the enemy, surviving long enough to kill what will likely
be tough royal bodyguards, and then the Belgae actually being
sensitive enough about it to run. Even if we succeed, it might just
make them angrier.”

Fronto
nodded.

“
That is a possibility, as is death. But the thing is: we’re
screwed anyway if we don’t do something. Three groups, each led by
one of us, while Labienus takes over the Tenth.”

The commander
stared.

“
The whole reason we have a chain of command, Fronto, is so
that vital officers can delegate this kind of thing to the people
who are trained and paid to do it.”

Fronto
grinned.

“
There are precisely three people in the Tenth that I trust to
pull off this kind of manoeuvre, and I am one of them.” He turned
to the chief training officer of the legion. “I’d have liked to
choose the most dangerous men we have, Velius, but there isn’t
time. What do you think?”