Caesar stopped suddenly, and Fronto had to pull himself up short, as he almost kept walking.
“Also, we’ve searched all the tribal baggage we captured and have found a wealth of items that have been taken from Roman military hands. Some of it’s directly attributable to the army of Lucius Cassius. Most of it’s of indeterminate origin, though it seems very likely that all of it comes from that source. I think you could say that Cassius is avenged, sir.”
Caesar frowned and looked down toward the baggage train.
“The Helvetii may have destroyed Cassius’ army and murdered the man himself, but it was one of their cantons; their sub-tribes that was directly responsible: the Tigurine. The standard that you captured was of that people. I want to confirm this with some of the surviving prisoners.”
Fronto nodded.
“If you’d like to follow me sir, down to the waterfront, you’ll find all the prisoners have been put to work.”
Caesar, once they were on their own and out of earshot of the staff officers, leaned closer to Fronto and spoke in low tones.
“The Tigurine are not to be trusted or bargained with. My father-in-law’s grandfather was Lucius Piso, one of Cassius’ chief officers, and he also was murdered by the swine.”
As they arrived at water’s edge, the largest group of prisoners, over a hundred in all, sat cross-legged on the grass, stripping branches of their leaves and shoots. They continued to do so as Caesar and Fronto stood looking down on them, surrounded by legionaries with their swords out.
Caesar cleared his throat. In a deep, loud and clear voice, he spoke to the prisoners.
“You are the Tigurine.” Not a question. A statement.
Mutters of confirmation greeted him from the seated group.
“You were the last to cross, caught unawares by a sizeable Roman army under a great general. Fortunate for your fellow tribesmen that they were on the other side and out of danger. Not for long, though. By the end of today or early in the morning we will be chasing them down like dogs on the hunt. I am a man who does not like to waste men or resources and generally despises unnecessary brutality. Sometimes, however…”
He turned his back on the tribesmen and stepped next to Fronto. In a voice loud enough to be heard by every man present, he spoke.
“Kill them all. Every last one of them, but don’t do it too quickly. I want them to have time to appreciate it.”
As the tribesmen behind him dropped the branches and stood, trying to move toward Caesar, but held at bay by guards with swords and shields, the general raised his voice above the shouting and hollering of the crowd.
“Replace them with proper men drawn from the Seventh, Eighth and the Eleventh. I want the other legions involved, and the current three can stand down for two hours and rest.”
“Yes sir.”
As the General strode away and the legionaries began to carry out his orders, Fronto tried to keep his eyes on Caesar and not watch the gruesome activity taking place over his shoulder. He could keep his eyes away, but he couldn’t shut out the screams or the sounds of carving meat. He was a soldier and could deal with any horror that battle could throw at him, but this simple butchery and torture was not to his taste. Turning his back, he was grateful to follow Caesar away from the scene. Once again he wondered how far the general would be prepared to go for personal ambition.
Balbus found Fronto in the woods, seated on a stump left by one of the workers. He had been looking for his fellow legate for almost an hour. No one had seemed to know where he was, until he eventually tracked down a centurion he recognised, called Velius. Velius had seen his legate disappear into the woods with a large jug and had thought better than to ask.
Fronto hadn’t seen Balbus enter the man-made clearing and gave a start when the older man coughed politely. Looking up, he recognised the shape and movement of his colleague in the dusk.
“Quintus. What’re you doing here? I tried hard to find a place no-one would find me.”
Balbus smiled and sat on a stump opposite.
“I gathered that from how hard you were to find. I brought more wine, though I’m not at all sure you really need it.”
Fronto’s head slipped forward again.
“He had no call to do that. No reason at all. I can appreciate as much as anyone that you can’t always hold prisoners and that death can be the only option on occasion. But not like that. Not carving people up for the sake of bitterness. They were warriors who lost a battle. I doubt that these so-called ‘barbarians’ would treat Roman prisoners that way. As far as I can remember, they put an end to Cassius and his army in a swift, no-nonsense way. Caesar had no call to do it.”
Balbus frowned.
“I agree, but we’re not the ones who have to live with that decision. From what I hear the General’s done as bad or worse before. You must have seen things like that serving with him in Spain. He was tried for crimes after that campaign.”
Fronto shook his head.
“He was more subtle about it in Spain. He knew some of us didn’t approve, so it was always done quietly and while many of us were absent. Spain was too well-known to Rome. Stories get back too easily. I figure he thinks out here no one will ever find out. He’s got a free hand. I just don’t know whether he made it so overt purely to make a point to me, or to demonstrate his resolve and power to the army in general. I don’t think he’s prey to his emotions enough to have done it for revenge. With him there’s always an ulterior motive.”
Balbus shrugged. “And I think you’ve chosen a bad spot to sit and sulk in. It smells like a dead pig here.”
Fronto gestured to the edge of the clearing.
“That’s because their burial pit is just the other side of those trees. Five hundred and seventeen bodies. I counted them. Not to mention the thousands we killed on the field.”
He took a pull at the wine flask, only to discover that it was empty.
“What about Caesar. What’s he doing?”
Balbus smiled a sympathetic smile.
“The general’s a very happy and generous man tonight. He’s sat in his tent with most of the officers, drinking and laughing. He honoured Longinus, Priscus and Galba in front of the other officers, and praised you in your absence.”
Fronto sighed.
“I hate being in a position where I have to smile blandly and celebrate the things I disapprove of. This is what happens when you get mixed up with politicians, Quintus.”
Balbus said nothing; wordlessly passed the jug over to Fronto, who took a swig.
“Nice. From Caesar’s personal baggage I suppose.”
The older legate nodded.
“Most of the troops are across the river now, Marcus. There’s maybe a thousand still here until the general’s ready to move, but that won’t be until the morning, and I can’t believe there would be any trouble tonight. Your man Velius was wandering around down by the bridge, getting involved in everything. I think he’s still a bit confused, and he was ordering the men of the Eleventh around, trying to get them in lines. In the end, I had to get him away myself and order him to stand down and report to the doctor. Head injuries can take months to heal, if they ever do, and that one he took was a fair mess.”
Fronto grinned.
“You underestimate Velius. Sounds like he’s quite rational and normal to me. He’s got a vested interest in the Eleventh. He helped turn them into a legion. I think he feels responsible for them in a way he doesn’t for the Tenth. There’s nothing confused about him. A little manic maybe, but not confused.”
Balbus’ brow creased.
“But he told me to piss off because he was busy. No centurion in his right mind would say that to a senior officer.”
Fronto laughed for the first time in half a day.
“You’d be surprised what he’d do. Problem is: he’s very good at the job, and he knows it. He’s got a great respect for authority and senior officers when he agrees with them, but if he thinks they’re wrong, he’s n
ot shy in telling them. I tend to put up with it, because I’d hate to imagine the Tenth without him, but I do occasionally have to put him in his place. No. Velius is fine, believe you me.”
Balbus watched Fronto take another swig from the jar.
“Your head’s going to hurt worse than his when we move out tomorrow; you know that, don’t you?”
Fronto grinned again.
“I think tonight’s your night for underestimating. I have a capacity for good wine unparalleled among my peers. See, I can still form sentences and use long words and everything.”
Balbus laughed out loud.
“Alright. On your head be it. Literally. Now come on... time we went up to Caesar’s tent so that you can receive your praise like a good boy. Show them all how noble a good general can be, and try not to fall over.”
He held out an arm. Fronto grasped it and pulled himself to his feet.
“I suppose I’d better put in an appearance, hadn’t I.”
Balbus nodded.
“It’s been a long day, but it’s nearly over.”
Chapter 6
(Hilltop in Aedui land beyond the Saone)
“Via Decumana: The main street running east-west in a Roman town or fort.”
The Helvetii spread out like a mass on the plain below the hill. The sun glinted off helmets, armour and spear-tips, and the gentle breeze rippled the patterned Gaulish breeches and tunics. Once they would have seemed like a fearsome sight to the Roman officers but now, after six battles, the legions were stronger than ever, while the Helvetii travelled with perhaps two thirds of their tribe intact. A surprise was the appearance of the Helvetian cavalry unit. There had been horsemen within the tribe during the previous encounters, but spread out and disorganised. Now, they appeared to have taken a leaf out of the Romans’ book and formed a central unit of cavalry perhaps five hundred strong.
Fronto glanced over his shoulder at the six legions drawn up in perfect order on the plain behind him; rows and rows of well-trained men ready for anything. Behind them were the baggage wagons and the siege weaponry. To either side were the cavalry, still commanded by Longinus and growing in number daily. Horses had been made available to more of the legionaries, and Longinus now led fifteen hundred regular cavalry drawn from all six legions, and nearly three thousand auxiliary and mercenary levies drawn from the tribes allied to Rome who were now indebted to Caesar for their protection.
And here on the hill in full view of both armies and sandwiched between them sat the leaders, four Romans and three Helvetii, all on horseback. The army had caught up with the barbarian tribe three days after crossing the bridge. The Helvetii had been totally unprepared and were astounded at the speed with which the Romans had chased them down. Two more days had followed with the Helvetii attempting to stay just ahead of the Roman vanguard. Finally, this morning, the barbarians had stopped in their tracks, allowed the pack animals to graze, and turned to face the pursuing army. The three tribal chieftains had ridden to the crest of the hill to wait for the Romans.
As soon as Longinus had reported to Caesar the location and disposition of the Helvetii, the general had given orders for the legions to fall into parade formation. The staff officers had joined the general at the front, and the army had moved into position opposite the Helvetii in perfect order and formation. Fronto could only guess what was about to happen. He presumed it would be face-off and blusters between the two leaders; attempts to threaten and surpass each other.
The Gaul was the first to speak, in good Latin, with barely an accent.
“I am Divico of the Helvetii. I am leader in peace and in war.”
Caesar’s face took on a grim demeanour.
“I am familiar with your name, barbarian. However, since it’s been fifty years since your people killed Cassius and his army, I will presume it was your father who led at that time. I may be tempted to violence, were it not that Cassius is already avenged. As it is, I will treat with you as though you were a civilised leader.”
Divico nodded and bowed.
“Great Caesar, we have journeyed far from our ancestral land in search of a place where we can settle and rebuild our lives, and where we need not live in constant apprehension of German tribes attacking our villages. We are free from that threat now, and I will defer to Rome on this matter. Tell us where you are content for the Helvetii to settle and we shall do so. The Helvetii will do this in peace and will maintain such peace with the Roman people.”
Fronto blinked. ‘They must be worried’, he thought. ‘They’re trying to come to terms with Caesar.’
Divico continued.
“Your army has a made a habit of pursuing and harassing my people. I am willing to put this aside in the name of peace but, should you continue to make war on our people, you would do well to remember a few things.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t interrupt.
“Remember, Roman, that the Helvetii have fought and defeated an army of this size before, under this same Cassius that you speak of. Remember that we are a valiant and hardy people. You may have destroyed a part of our tribe by the river, but you achieved that only through devious means and the outcome may have been entirely different had we met on a plain of battle like men. I ask you again to let us settle in peace, and not to turn this plain into the violent and embarrassing defeat of Rome that our last meeting could have been.”
Fronto looked around at the general, half expecting to see him foaming at the mouth over this insolent barbarian’s words. He himself seethed over the speech, knowing that it was his battle and his strategy that this chieftain was inferring had been carried out in an underhanded and cowardly way. Fronto could have lashed out and knocked the man from his horse, had he not been forcing himself to remain motionless and expressionless.
Caesar took a breath and sat high in his saddle.
“Have you finished with your empty threats, barbarian?”
Not pausing long enough to give the chieftain the chance to speak, he continued:
“Your words do not fill me with fear, nor do they justify what you have done. Indeed, it angers me that you could carry out so many acts of brutality in the past against our people, and more recently against my army and the tribes that are allied to Rome, and when you are faced with your accusers you can do little more than beg and threaten. That is the sign of a small and insecure man, Divico.”
The chieftain’s mouth fell open in astonishment, and still Caesar gave him no chance to interrupt.
“However, I am not in the habit of genocide in order to achieve a degree of justice.”
For a moment, Fronto glared at his general, images of murdered prisoners flashing into his head.
“I am willing to acquiesce and to find an appropriate and acceptable parcel of land for your people on two conditions.”
This time the general was not fast enough to prevent the chieftain’s interruption.
“Roman, I am unused to any man placing conditions upon me.”
Caesar rode over the top of the comment, ignoring the chief’s outburst.
“Firstly, you will deliver one hundred of your women and higher born men to us as hostages for the duration of your journey until you settle.”
Divico’s face took on a ruddy cast as the rage rose within him. Caesar continued, quietly and calmly.
“These will be our assurance that you will cause no further trouble. Secondly, you will make restitution out of the wealth and possessions of your people to the Aedui, the Allobroges, and any other tribes against whom you have committed acts of barbarism and destruction. Then we will help you find a place in the world to be comfortable and safe.”
The general sat back on his horse and folded his arms, adding emphasis to his final statement.
“In the name of the Senate and the people of Rome, I make you this offer. There will be no other.”
Divico threw his arm out in an angry gesture at Caesar.
“The Helvetii do not give hostages. We take the
m, as the Roman people are well aware!”
Turning his back on the Roman officers, he rode away down the hill, the other chieftains immediately behind him.
Fronto exchanged glances with Labienus. The other officer shrugged.
“What now? You surely can’t let him just ride away after that. Do we mobilise the legions?”
Caesar shook his head.
“I have no intention of launching any sort of battle here and now. The ground is not favourable, the enemy are far too prepared, and we are in the territory of our allies. I have no intention of turning our recently acquired Aedui auxiliaries against us by destroying their lands in battle. We will follow and harry them, making sure they cause no damage to the other tribes, until we can deal with them more surely.”
He turned to Fronto.
“I want you to find Longinus and Balbus. Send Balbus to me. He and the Eighth will lead the vanguard of the army with the colour unit. Also, I want you to deliver these orders to Longinus: I want him and his cavalry forever on the tail of the barbarians to keep them moving and busy. We need to herd them along at this time until they’re out of our allies’ lands or at least in an acceptable place for battle.”
Fronto bowed as far as his saddle allowed and wheeled his horse to carry out the orders. As he rode back down the slope, he spied Balbus riding up toward the group of officers. As the two approached each other, Balbus reined in and leaned in the saddle to address Fronto.
“What the hell’s he up to. It sounds like the Helvetii are leaving.”
Fronto shrugged.
“That’s exactly what they’re doing. I’ve no idea what he’s playing at, but we’re apparently going to be following them. He tossed out some feeble explanations, but he must have some good reason not to grind them into the dirt now. He actually offered to help them settle, but I’d say it was an empty offer. He made demands they were never going to accept. Anyway, the general wants to see you and I’ve got errands to run. See you at camp tonight?”
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