Fabius was already looking twitchy, as though ready to be off to Noviodunum with all haste. Perhaps he had realised he was being given the chance to shine like Labienus and was hoping for a challenge in the west. Gods, Varus hoped not. He had had enough challenges in Gaul now. A peaceful transition from tribal land to Roman province seemed a glorious prospect to him. His own family name was known enough in the city and the senate even before Caesar's repeated references to him in those commentaries that had continued to make him the darling of the Roman people.
Rome.
He found himself considering the destination of the convoy.
The Serviliae Cascae. Long had they been allies of the Julii, and the current crop – the brothers Gaius and Publius – seemed to be holding to the same values. But while the Servilii had old patrician roots, the Casca branch was a dulled bronze to the ancient gold of the line, their crowning achievements being tribunes of the plebs and the occasional aedile. No real power or influence. Of course, there was all that gossip years back in Rome - rumour of Servilia Caepionis, a distant cousin of the Cascae, having been one of Caesar's mistresses, and even that Junius Brutus might be Caesar's secret son. Such things were said quietly, only by the careless, and even then far from the ears of Caesar's people. There were clearly connections there.
But regardless, the Serviliae Cascae were neither influential nor rich when compared to many of Caesar's clients. The fact that he might entrust a king's ransom to them was interesting.
As Caesar continued to ramble to his men on the subject of the suppression of tribes, Varus began to think ahead of what he might require for the coming journey.
The west beckoned.
* * * * *
Noviodunum was not the thriving military hub Varus had expected to find. For the base of two legions and associated support, it languished quiet and still. The Eighth and Ninth legions were still pouring across the plains behind them, the terrain here south of the Liger River flat and uninteresting. The seemingly endless fields lay dormant through lack of attention, full of unharvested crops from the previous year, rotting down into the earth.
The war had ruined this region of Gaul.
Noviodunum had been an oppidum. The army had fought a determined enemy here. Now that enemy was gone. Long gone. The oppidum lay devoid of Gauls, occupied instead by two legions, who had reused the ramparts and what buildings they found a use for. The few locals who remained now lived in makeshift hovels outside the walls, eking out a sad living by meeting the needs of the occupying force.
But even from here it was amply evident that said force was not currently in occupation.
'What do you make of that?' asked Fabius, astride his dappled grey as the two commanders sat ahead of the approaching army, peering at the ramparts beyond the stream.
'Empty. More or less. Certainly Caninius and his legions are not in residence.'
'And yet Caesar's last report places him here.'
Varus shrugged. 'Situations change and it takes time for missives to cross country. I wouldn't even be surprised if we crossed the path of a courier somewhere on the journey without realising it. What worries me is why two legions should have moved out of their base at once. Must be something fairly major, or the man would have sent a vexillation. A cohort or two would be sufficient for anything short of a war.'
Fabius looked less than convinced. 'Sometimes a legion or two is required to make Rome's point.'
'If that's happened, then we're probably looking at another fight anyway. I don't relish the possibility of a repeat of what happened with the Bellovaci.'
The legate nodded silently and took a deep breath. 'Do you think it's safe?'
Varus squinted and could just make out the insignia rising from the gate top. Not the bronze boar, wolf or horse standards of the Gauls, but small red squares flapping in the breeze - too far away to make out anything other than basic colour and shape. 'I can still see the standards of the legions above the walls, and the bridge is intact, so it seems unlikely there's been any trouble. Plus there are a few columns of smoke, so someone is there keeping themselves warm.'
Fabius sucked in air through his teeth and turned to the junior tribune at his shoulder, a young man with an acne-ridden face and more experience of books than battles. 'Have the men encamp outside the near ramparts, this side of the stream. Varus and I and my guards are going to investigate. Once the legions are in position, have the senior centurions report to me in Noviodunum.'
As the tribune saluted and rode off inexpertly, the legate's small bodyguard fell into formation and accompanied the two senior officers towards the garrison. The stream that cut off this side of the former oppidum was narrow. Too wide for a horse to jump, but otherwise no real level of protection, for all its depth and steep banks. Caninius' forces had constructed a solid timber bridge in recent weeks and it was wide enough for three riders abreast. Beyond that, the gate of the oppidum sat open, a wall in the Gallic style disappearing off in either direction atop the rampart. Though the leaves of the gate were tied back, two bored-looking legionaries stood to attention at the sight of the approaching column and the officers out front. Fabius reined in at the walls, Varus and the guards with him.
'Do I assume that Gaius Caninius Rebilus is not currently in residence at Noviodunum, soldier?'
Varus looked up at the banners, bearing the marks of both the Fifth and Fifteenth legions and then back down to the soldiers.
'He is not, sir. Might I ask your name and business?' The man looked nervous, addressing such a senior officer with so curt a question, and well he might. Varus had seen some officers react badly to being questioned over anything so basic. Fabius appeared not to be one of them. Such a question was to be expected of anyone seeking entrance to a fortress, regardless of rank.
'Quintus Fabius Maximus, lieutenant of Caesar, commanding the Eighth and Ninth legion, with orders to link up with your own commander. If he is not present, to whom shall I present myself and my officers?'
The legionary flushed slightly despite himself.
'The most senior officer in camp is Centurion Aurelius Memor,
Hastatus Posterior
of the Sixth Cohort, Fourth Century of the Fifth Legion. He will be in the headquarters building, sir, which is to say the big one with the tile roof off the main square. The legions' flags hang out front, sir, so it’s easy to find.'
Fabius turned a raised eyebrow to Varus, who shrugged. The rank of the centurion given identified him as one of the lowest ranking centurions in the most junior legion in the army. For the man to be in charge of Noviodunum, the garrison here must be tiny.
'Thank you, soldier. Keep up the good work.' Fabius gestured for his guards to follow and urged on his horse, trotting into the oppidum, bound for the centre. Varus fell in alongside him. Noviodunum was not large - one of the smaller oppida they had encountered, in fact, but it was well-appointed. Its houses were of good quality and its gardens well-tended. The streets were rough as usual, but the occupying garrison had given them a new surface of gravel to combat the mess winter made of such places.
Here and there they spotted signs of garrison life, though with little current activity. Houses stood empty, but with horse tethering posts outside recently installed by the Roman occupants. Some houses had portable grain querns by the doorstep where the legionaries had ground their flour for bread. Signs of occupation, if not life.
The first soldiers they saw were two streets in from the gate. Two men were busy with a large barrow load of limestone chippings filling pits in the road. The two men were so surprised to see officers that it took them a moment to drop their tools and straighten into a salute, clouds of white dust blooming up around them.
Varus and the others returned the salute and rode on into the heart of Noviodunum.
The 'headquarters building' was notable for three reasons. It bore the flags of the legions. It was the largest and best-appointed structure on the square. And most obvious of all, it was actually occupied.
A legionary by the building's door snapped to startled attention at the sight of the approaching officers. It seemed that even with such an empty base and no immediate threats, the centurion had maintained a guard not only at the oppidum gate, but also on the headquarters. Such a man would likely also have a guard on the granaries and the stores. Despite the man's mediocre rank, it boded well to see such attention to duty. Fabius turned to his men.
'Stay here in the square. You can dismount and relax. We may be some time.'
He gestured to Varus and the two men approached the door.
'Quintus Fabius Maximus and Quintus Atius Varus to see your commander.'
The legionary saluted. 'If you'll follow me, sirs.'
Varus and Fabius exchanged a glance again. That the man had to leave his post to show them in confirmed the small size of the garrison. The two officers strode in through the door. All in the headquarters was in good order, though only one room they passed was occupied, a clerk busy working through piles of tablets, who didn't even look up at the noise of footsteps passing. Centurion Aurelius Memor was a thin, wiry man with skin like teak and a scar from ear to nose that gave his mouth a permanent and unfortunate sneer. He rose hurriedly at the arrival of his visitors and saluted.
'Centurion. Good. I hope you have a few moments for us?'
The officer's surprise was quickly replaced by a professional solemness and he gestured to the seat opposite. 'Please, sir. Take a seat. I shall just fetch another and some refreshment.'
Again the two new arrivals glanced at one another. How short-staffed were they that the garrison commander could not even afford a man to attend him?
Varus gestured at the seat and with a smile of relief Fabius sank into it, rubbing his hips, sore from the long ride. After a few moments, Memor returned with a second chair and placed it beside the first. As Varus thanked him and took his seat, the centurion hurried out and was gone again for a while before returning with a tray, upon which sat a platter of fruit, jars of wine and water and two cups. He placed the tray before the officers and returned to his side of the desk.
'You must excuse all the bustle, sirs.'
'You are truly a man for all roles, centurion. Tell me: how many men are here under your command?'
Memor sighed meaningfully, and then looked embarrassed, remembering the rank of those he was addressing. 'A single undermanned century, sir. We have sixty two on parchment, sir, but only twenty four active soldiers.'
'So few?' Varus murmured.
'Yessir. There's been an outbreak of the flux.' He hurriedly waved his hands before him in a calming gesture, despite the fact that neither of his visitors had reacted. 'It's under control though, sirs. No danger, but most of my men are still too weak to deal with active duty. We only lost three, so I thank Mars and Minerva daily for that.'
'I can imagine. You seem to be doing an excellent job of maintaining the garrison despite your situation, centurion. I will commend you to your commander when I see him and advocate your advancement to a more significant position. And speaking of Caninius...'
The centurion nodded. 'I understand, sir, and thank you. Legate Caninius has both legions with him at Limonum. We were only left here to act as couriers for messages and overseers for supplies.'
'Limonum?' Fabius frowned and glanced across to Varus. The name was familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it.
'It's the chief oppidum of the Pictones, sir. They're a pretty civilised bunch, and Limonum's about a hundred miles or so south-west from here.'
'If they're so civilised,' Varus asked with interest, ‘why did Caninius have to take two legions there?'
'He's gone to help their prince, sir, a fellow called Duracius. He apparently voted against their part in Alesia last year and holds to his allegiance. He's holed up in Limonum under siege from the nastier elements of his own tribe and from the Andes from across the Liger River. Soon as he heard, Legate Caninius mobilized the legions. Said we had to look after our allies.'
'Very much so,' Fabius agreed. 'Good man. So he took the legions against these Andes, then. When was this?'
'About two weeks ago, sir. If I'm honest, I'd have normally expected them back a while ago now, sir. About a week ago we had word that the legate had camped close to the siege, but there were more of the bugge... the enemy were considerably more numerous than the legate had expected. I've been starting to get quite jumpy over the whole thing, but even with the best will in the world, I can't spare a man to ride for Limonum for news. We just have to sit tight and hope that the commander is alright.'
Varus looked across at Fabius. 'It's still early.'
The legate thought for a moment, then inclined his head. 'Agreed. Thank you for your briefing, Centurion. As I said, I shall be sure to bring your name to the attention of Caninius when I see him, which will be soon. I cannot imagine that he is in difficulties, or a messenger would have carried word of it. Still, all things being equal, given this news it would be remiss of us to delay in joining him. My legions are settling in to make camp, but we shall change that immediately. There are still three or four hours of good daylight, and we can be well on the way to Limonum by dark. Do you have a map of the region?'