Tetricus smiled.
“What should we do in the meantime?”
Balbus grinned back as he walked off through the woods.
“Pack your kit, man. Pack. We’re departing at nightfall, remember?”
Chapter 17
(Among low hills between Vesontio and the Rhine)
“Tabularium: The records office. In Rome the Tabularium is in the Forum, though each fort had its own based in the centre of the camp.”
“Valetudinarium: The military hospital in a camp or fort.”
Caesar leaned forward in his seat and frowned.
“So where is this Salonius now?”
Publius Sulpicius Rufus stood and met the General’s gaze with a calm and level look.
“The tribune is one of three that has been missing since before your conference with the centurions, General. I gather a number of tribunes applied for permission to resign their posts and to return to Rome, and I believe Salonius is one of them.”
Caesar gave a low growl.
“I gave no one permission to leave. Everyone who requested it was assigned to my staff.”
Caesar looked at Longinus.
“Is there any chance of us picking those three up somehow?”
Longinus shook his head.
“Only in Rome. Can’t see any way to get them in the meantime that doesn’t involve the entire cavalry. Do you know who the man actually was?”
Another growl.
“Only that he was recommended by the Senate and requested permission to be assigned. I daresay when I get back to Rome and pay a visit to the Tabularium, I’ll be able to trace his patron and find out how he got assigned. In the meantime, I think we’ll have to work on the assumption that he was the highest this thing went and try and get on with the business of campaigning.”
Rufus nodded.
“It irks me that the man was one of mine.”
Balbus reached out and patted his comrade on the shoulder.
“Not your fault Rufus. Could have been any of us, really. Just lucky to have got rid of him.”
Caesar relaxed a little and opened his mouth to speak as one of the guards outside the tent flap knocked on the frame and entered.
“Caesar, I beg to report the arrival of riders, sir.”
“Riders?”
“Looks like several cavalry alae, sir.”
Caesar’s brow creased as he turned to Longinus.
“How many alae have we got out there?”
The cavalry commander shrugged.
“A few scout groups of auxiliary riders, nothing more. Oh, and the ala that was with Fronto.”
Caesar frowned at the guard.
“Any infantry with them?”
“No sir, just looks like several hundred horse.”
Caesar turned back to Longinus.
“Best get out there and see who they are, then.”
The officers in Caesar’s command tent made their way out into the late afternoon sun. The grass was light and pleasant and the legions were now resting after having made camp and stored away supplies. The legions’ morale seemed to be holding, but the commanders were still aware of rumblings among the men. A number of the senior officers were of the opinion that a good fight would sort out the problem. Caesar, on the other hand, reminded them that a good fight may just have entirely the opposite effect and he wasn’t willing to stake the Roman position in Gaul on a roll of the dice.
Balbus nodded in satisfaction as they passed the billets of the Eighth. Everything was squared away properly and a soldier saluted as the officers passed. As they made their way down the hill toward the turf wall-flanked gateway, Balbus could now see the column of riders coming down the hill opposite. They were indeed all cavalry, though not the lightly-armed and Celtic-attired auxiliaries. These were proper alae of heavy cavalry. Moments later he saw a second, much smaller group of riders around half a mile behind.
As they reached the gate, the camp prefect had called the guard together and a reasonable defensive force now stood at the north rampart in case of any unforeseen trouble.
Balbus watched, poised, ready to spring into action as the cavalry came into close view past some trees.
“It’s Fronto.”
He turned to Longinus.
“It’s bloody Fronto. And his whole cohort. On horses!”
Longinus grinned.
“Ingenuus is with him. Looks like German riders behind them. Can’t be chasing them though. There are only half a dozen of them.”
The Roman column crossed the stream and cantered up the slope to the gate where the officers stood. Every one of the riders was almost grey with dust and travel-worn. Fronto, Ingenuus and Velius rode in the lead and reached the gate at the same time. Ingenuus sprang lightly from his horse and landed with agility, coming straight to attention and saluting the General. Fronto and Velius, on the other hand, brought their leg out of the saddle and over to dismount with a great deal of physical discomfort. The pair slid unceremoniously from the saddle and to the floor. Fronto staggered a little and saluted without any real attention stance. Velius merely collapsed in a heap on the floor, rubbing his posterior and wincing.
Caesar smiled.
“Good to see you again Fronto. No doubt you have adventures to recount to us over wine later.”
He gestured at the various bloodstains on the officer’s clothes.
“It’ll have to wait for a moment, however, while we deal with these other horsemen.”
Fronto nodded and sank to the floor beside Velius. Ingenuus watched him collapse, shrugged and gave the order for the column to dismount.
“Fall out and find your units to billet with.”
Grinning he sat, crossing his legs, next to the others.
“You’d never make it in the cavalry, Marcus. That was just a nice country ride.”
Fronto growled at him and left it at that. Velius looked across accusingly at the cavalry prefect.
“Both of my buttocks have gone completely numb. And it’s a bloody blessing I tell you. Those last few miles I thought somebody was going at my arse with a branding iron!”
The three fell quiet at a gesture from Balbus, as the German riders approached the camp.
Caesar stood resolutely in the gateway.
“Why are you here?”
The six riders reined in before the party of officers, two of them watching with amusement the three men on the floor and the Roman column falling out, many of them stiff and painfully. One of the Germans walked his horse out in front.
“You Caesar?”
The General nodded.
“I am.”
“King Ariovistus say now time for you to talk. You and he talk, yes?”
Caesar squared his shoulders.
“If your King wants to meet with me on equal terms, then I agree. Five days from now, at a place equally distant from both our armies. Honour escorts only, though.”
The German looked confused for a moment, as though he were turning over the words in his head and translating them.
“Yes. Only horses. No legion. Just horse.”
Balbus realised that, as he spoke, the German was looking over the top of them at the array of heavily-armoured infantry lining the walls of the camp. He was surprised to hear Caesar’s voice in an affirmative.
“Agreed. Cavalry escort only.”
He turned to Longinus.
“Any appropriate terrain around here your scouts have found?”
Longinus smiled. He’d been scouting for good battle terrain on the General’s orders for a week.
“There’s a good plain around ten miles from here, with a small hill. Reminds me very much of that one where you talked to the Helvetii. North east from here.”
Caesar smiled back and then turned to the Germans.
“Did you understand that?”
“Yes. We see hill too. Meet there, five days, only horse.”
The riders wheeled their horses and rode away from the camp, back towards the
German army so many miles distant.
Caesar smiled at Fronto. A moment later Longinus broke into a wide grin.
“What?”
Balbus reached down to help Fronto stand.
“I don’t think your cavalry days are over, Marcus. I think you’re about to become a ceremonial cavalry guard.”
Fronto turned and glared at the General.
“You can’t be serious. Longinus has plenty of trained cavalry and we’re infantry. Use him.”
Behind him, the officers could hear Velius muttering “my arse, my arse,” and feeling his rump.
Caesar grinned at Fronto.
“Ah, but I want the Tenth. He doesn’t want me to bring infantry, so I presume you’ve given him good reason for that. If he doesn’t want the Tenth there, then I do. Longinus, have horses transferred temporarily from the auxilia to the Tenth. I want the whole legion mounted and trained in the next three days to sit a horse like a natural.”
Longinus smiled.
“With pleasure sir. Any particular colour you’d like, Marcus?”
“Bastard.”
“My arse feels like it’s been kicked by Jupiter!”
Fronto rounded on Velius.
“Will you stop talking about your arse, please?”
Caesar took on a more sober look for a moment.
“Seriously Marcus, I want the Tenth there. You’ll have a few days to bathe, relax and recuperate, but I want your entire legion there. To start with, the three of you can join the rest of the command at my headquarters tent for a debrief and then some drinks. Later on, though. Get yourselves cleaned up first.”
Longinus took a lingering look at the two officers of the Tenth and turned to Caesar.
“General, I think it might be a good idea if I and a few of my prefects join the tenth at the conference. Prudent, I’d think, to have a few expert horsemen there.”
Caesar agreed.
“I think it’s a good idea. Pick a few good men to join us.”
As the General and most of the officers and men turned and disappeared into the camp, Balbus helped Velius up from the grass, smiling at the colourful collection of words the grizzled centurion knew. The two of them joined Fronto and Ingenuus as they wandered slowly back through the camp gate, Longinus’ men having taken care of their horses.
“I take it you’ve not been here long enough for a bathing area to be set up?”
Balbus smiled.
“No. There’s a nice cold stream that you just rode through though. It’ll get the dust off you at least. Where on earth did all those bloodstains come from?”
Velius sniggered and moments later Ingenuus joined in.
Fronto growled.
“One or two from a fight, but mostly from prickly undergrowth. I’ll tell you all about it later, but suffice it to say I wasn’t cut out to be a sneak thief.”
The four of them climbed the hill and Fronto could see the camp of the Tenth. Ingenuus tapped him on the shoulder as politely as he could.
“Have I actually been invited to the General’s tent for a drink, sir?”
Fronto smiled.
“Get used to it lad. You’ve got the makings of a fine officer. You’ll be seeing a lot more of us, I expect.”
Ingenuus swallowed.
“What do I do? Do I need to bring anything? How do I act?”
Fronto laughed.
“You don’t need to bring anything. Just wash and dress neatly and be polite.”
“And don’t make jokes about his nose or his hair” added Velius.
Balbus chuckled.
“Try not to yawn. That’s my main problem, but then you’re a lot younger than me.”
A voice called out from the gates of the camp further up the hill.
“What time d’you call this?”
Fronto looked up in surprise to see Priscus standing haughtily on the rampart next to the gate.
“Priscus. Hope you kept the Tenth in good order. I’m afraid we lost a few of them. Not many, but a few.”
The primus pilus smiled at the commander.
“Good to see you sir. You may have lost a few men, but I’d bet you haven’t lost as many as we have. I think I’d best bring you up to date on a few little details before you go and see Caesar.”
Balbus and Ingenuus stopped at the gate.
“We’ll see you at the headquarters later” the older legate said. “I’m going to take Ingenuus aside and give him some advice for tonight.”
As Priscus ushered Fronto and Velius into the praetorium of the Tenth and detailed the morale failures, conspiracies and replacement of officers, Balbus took Ingenuus to the camp of the Eighth. Balventius came to attention as his commander approached, but Balbus waved aside the formalities.
“Alright, young man. Don’t listen to Priscus, Velius or Fronto when it comes to dealing with the high command. Priscus isn’t a regular and is unused to this kind of thing anyway. Velius is a rude and outspoken old sod who the command tolerate because he so damned good. Fronto should know how to deal with them, but he has too much of a temper and is far too idealistic. He’s definitely in with the command, but he falls out with the staff often.”
Ingenuus nodded and continued to listen.
“Be deferential. Only speak when you’re spoken to. If you feel there’s something that needs to be said, say it. If you say something profound or useful, it can only improve your standing. If it’s not profound or useful, be prepared to be the butt of a few jokes. Caesar’s very sharp and so are a number of his senior staff.”
Ingenuus nodded again.
“I’m nervous.”
Balbus smiled.
“Don’t be. This is social. In less than a week, we’ll be facing the Germans. That should make us nervous.”
* * * * *
Even from his position at the front of the Tenth, Fronto could hear Velius at the head of the Second Cohort groaning and shifting uncomfortably in the saddle. He had spent the last few days walking with a curious gait that reminded Fronto of a duck. There had been a number of humorous comments made on the subject and consequently a number of black eyes. The centurion didn’t take kindly to that kind of joke.
The Tenth had stopped around sixty or seventy yards from the large earth mound on which the two leaders would meet. Straining to observe through the murk and past the small hillock, he could just see the German cavalry roughly the same distance away at the other side of the plain.
Dust blew across the grassy space, kicked up by thousands of horses on both sides. Fronto could barely see Caesar less than ten feet ahead of him. The two leaders had agreed on ten men with which to approach the mound. Caesar had left that with Fronto and so he, Priscus, Velius, Longinus, Ingenuus and Varus, the prefect of the Ninth’s cavalry wing, and four of the more impressive riders of the Tenth sat between Caesar and the column, waiting for the order.
“Can you see anything, Fronto?”
Caesar blinked away the dust as he looked over his shoulder at the legate. Fronto shook his head.
“Ingenuus, do that standing in the saddle trick I saw you do and see if you can spot anything above this dust.”
The prefect grinned and hopped up onto his saddle. He put one hand to his brow, shading his eyes and, with the other, pulled his military scarf a little higher over his nose and mouth.
“Looks like a small party of horses moving out front, heading for the hill.”
As he dropped back into the saddle, Caesar gave the order for the honour guard to move forward. The eleven men trotted slowly toward the hill. A lull in the breeze saw the dust die down for a moment and the officers caught a glimpse of the German riders on the other side of the hill. A minute later they trotted up the slope and stopped, facing Ariovistus, who had crested the hill at the same time.
Here on the mound the air was clear and fresh.
Fronto glanced around at the Tenth, gleaming in red and bronze and iron, poised a few hundred feet from them. On the other side, a mass of several thousand G
erman cavalry, dressed individually in the Celtic style, watched intently and suspiciously.
Caesar initiated the meeting as soon as the horses had stopped moving, giving Ariovistus no time to begin.
“Ariovistus the German. It is not fitting that we should be here at all. You have been labelled both a King and a friend of Rome by our Senate. Why now do we find a Roman army facing a German army if you are a friend of Rome?”
The General gave his opposite number no chance to reply, but pressed on with an onslaught of words.
“We have granted you favours in the past, because you are a King and a friend of Rome.”
He gestured with a wave of his arm out toward the west in a wide, sweeping gesture.
“But you are not Rome’s only friend. The Aedui have been both friend and ally to Rome for a great length of time. We have just fought a long and bloody campaign against the Helvetii, one of your oldest enemies, largely for the benefit of the Aedui. We fight to protect our friends and allies, and we’re not frightened to take on a powerful enemy if the general good requires it.”
Fronto had been watching Ariovistus and had expected an inflamed response. He was surprised to realise that the German ‘King’ just looked bored. Caesar sighed and continued.
“You are our ally. The Aedui are our ally. Many of the Gaulish tribes are either our allies or theirs. Do not fight our allies, because for all that you are a friend or Rome, we will come to their defence and the contract between our peoples will be broken.”
Caesar began to gesture in an angry fashion, pointing at Ariovistus.
“Do not fight them! Restore all the hostages you have taken! Go home to your lands in Germany and do not cross the Rhine into Gaul again!”
Ariovistus waited patiently, the slightly bored look still on his face, until Caesar sat back and folded his arms. He then leaned forward over his horse’s neck and addressed Caesar.
“I came here… we all came here because of the Gauls. They asked us. I’ve been given lands, settlements in Gaul and promised great rewards for my help to the tribes here. You cannot possibly imagine that I will give up those settlements and go home without my rewards?”
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