Marius' Mules

by S. J. A. Turney

  He gestured at a gold torc around his neck.

  “The loot I have was taken legitimately in conquest and is mine by a right that even the Romans cannot deny. The hostages I have were not ripped from their homes by my men. They were given to me by their tribes. We have fought these Gaulish tribes, but they attacked us, not the other way around. We beat them, individually and then together. We defeated the joint tribes of Gaul in one battle and you expect us to quake at you?”

  He smiled an unsettling smile, for he was missing a number of the more visible teeth.

  “Now there is peace. They pay me tribute. If they stop paying me tribute, I will crush them again, but there will be peace as long as they allow it. You do not bring peace; you bring war. I do not think that your alliance is for the benefit of the Gaulish tribes and I think they get nothing from it. They are stupid and weak, though, and will not break your alliance for they fear you too much.”

  The German King tapped the hilt of his long sword with his fingertips.

  “I am different, Roman. I am not afraid. If I begin to think that Rome’s friendship is less of a benefit and more of a burden, I will renounce it and may the flames take you. You have your Gaul, which lies on the mountains and along the coast to the south. This is my Gaul. I claimed it before you came anywhere near it. You have never come north from your Gaul before, so I can only assume you mean war regardless of the process.”

  He pointed past Caesar at the mounted Tenth Legion and his eyes widened. Fronto had wondered how long it would take him to realise that the Roman troops here were Caesar’s veteran legion. Once more he gestured angrily at the General.

  “If I had come into your Gaul, you would attack me. I would expect reprisal. Why then do you feel you can walk into my Gaul and threaten me without suffering the same?”

  The King laughed.

  “As for the Aedui, are they so close allies as you claim? If they are, why did they not help you in your recent war with Allobroges? Why did you not aid them against the Sequani in their time of need? You care nothing of alliance or friendship. You make and break treaties at your whim to your own best advantage. Your army is here to fight me and to take my lands off me. Why? Have you not enough lands of your own? If you do not leave my lands, I will label you ‘enemy’ and treat you as such.”

  Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small purse and threw it to the ground in front of Caesar. Roman coins spilled out onto the ground.

  “I have assurances from some of the great men of Rome that I’d have their friendship and their support should the great Caesar die. If you go home, I’ll count you friend and give you gifts to take back to Rome and we’ll have peace. If not, I may make a gift of your body to your enemies in Rome. It’s your choice Caesar. Are you my friend or my enemy?”

  Close behind Caesar, Fronto waited for the outburst he had felt building. Balbus leaned over in the saddle and whispered to him.

  “Be prepared for this. Caesar’s got something up his sleeve. I don’t know how or what, but something’s about to happen. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

  Fronto frowned quizzically at the older legate as the General spoke once more to the German King.

  “I will not leave, German. Neither I nor any of my officers would leave a deserving ally in need. Rome would not leave them. Your threats will bring you nothing but death. You think to frighten me with tales of my enemies in Rome. Those men of whom you speak would think of you as an animal and would be less inclined to parley with you than I. Beware of them, for they are not as friendly as I. Gaul does not belong to you, anymore than it belongs to us. Our Provinces in the south and east are long-standing and peaceful and we are not seeking new lands. Quintus Fabius Maximus subdued the Arverni and the Ruteni but he did not attempt to turn them into a province, nor did he demand tribute. I…”

  The General was interrupted mid-flow by the voice of Longinus.

  “General!”

  The various officers looked around at Longinus, who was pointing down the hill to the plain. Below, a large number of the German cavalry had swept around the side of the mound and were hurling stones at the mounted Tenth. As Fronto watched, a large rock came hurtling uphill, whizzing past his horse’s head and missing by only a couple of inches.

  He turned and looked back down at the Tenth. They had formed lines with their shields facing the Germans and were readying their javelins. Wheeling his horse, he charged down the hill toward the column.

  “No! No one fire back. This is a conference and a truce. Let them break it, but not us!”

  He called out to a nearby centurion.

  “Keep the line tight and slowly retreat from the field, keeping the shields to the Germans.”

  The centurion nodded and began to relay the order down the line, while Fronto turned to climb the hill again. As he turned he saw the other officers descending at a steady pace. He fell in beside Caesar.

  “I’ve had the Tenth fall out slowly without engaging the enemy, sir.”

  Caesar smiled.

  “Quick thinking Fronto. Now we are in the right and he’s broken a truce. I think that will put the Gods on our side, don’t you?”

  Fronto nodded.

  “It’ll put our army in a real bloodthirsty mood, too. Not just the Tenth, but the other legions once they get to hear of it. I can’t help but wonder how you arranged this?”

  Caesar’s irritating knowing smile crossed his face again.

  “How I arranged what, Marcus? Events just sometimes have a fortunate way of turning out in my favour.”

  Harrumph.

  As Caesar laughed, Fronto dropped back to where Balbus and Longinus rode side by side.

  “Alright. Which of you knows what happened there and is going to explain it to me?”

  Balbus shrugged and Longinus narrowed his eyes.

  “What makes you think either of us was involved in this?”

  Fronto growled.

  “One of you has to have helped Caesar do this. He’s devious enough to do it, but it has the hallmarks of a Longinus plot. Bear in mind that it was my legion that just got pelted with stones. There may have been fatalities; there were certainly casualties. Unless you want me to go round inflicting those injuries on your men to even up the score, tell me what happened.”

  Longinus looked at Balbus and then sighed.

  “Fine. It was my idea. Caesar wanted something that would incense the army. It really had to be the Tenth. I’m afraid that you’ve made them the most high-profile of all the legions, Marcus. If it’s any consolation, Caesar wanted us to use German spears, but I managed to barter him down to rocks. That way we could keep the casualties to a minimum. I know you’re angry, but you’ll accept it later.”

  Fronto cleared his throat in annoyance. It was true that no real damage had been done. For all his comments, he couldn’t believe there had been bad casualties and he’d not seen anyone left for dead. Longinus had only done what Fronto might have come up with had he been involved. The only thing that annoyed him was that it was the Tenth.

  “I need a drink!”

  Longinus smiled at him.

  “I happen to have a small stock that I brought from Vesontio. It’s not fantastic, but it’s quite an acceptable taste. Care to join me when we get back?”

  Fronto nodded and the first hint of a smile played across his lips.

  “So how did you get the Germans to throw stones at my men?”

  Longinus grinned.

  “Auxiliary cavalry, Marcus. I sent them to infiltrate three days ago. They were in amongst the men when Ariovistus brought them to the meeting. They managed to manoeuvre not only themselves but even some of the real Germans into shouting angrily at the Tenth and then hurling rocks at them. When Ariovistus leaves the field, he won’t have a clue who it was who started it, but he will feel like a truce-breaking idiot. And he will know that he’s given Caesar an excuse to destroy him now. Our auxiliaries will wait until the camp is quiet tonight and then slip back out and return
to their units.”

  “Oh you are a clever little bastard, Longinus. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  “Are you really? It doesn’t seem like so long ago when you said you wished I’d fall down a really big hole!”

  Fronto laughed.

  “What makes you think I don’t wish stuff like that now?”

  Balbus coughed.

  “When you’ve finished, I think we need to go and see our legions. News is going to spread like wild fire now and we want to make sure it channels into controlled aggression aimed at the Germans, and not into stupid outbursts. We don’t really want a riot at the moment.”

  The others nodded and began to pick up pace.

  A short while later, Fronto entered the gate of the camp and made his way to the praetorium. The Tenth rode in behind him, some a little battered and bleeding, but no one seriously hurt. They were the last of the party to arrive. Caesar had made sure that Fronto rode his legion in full view of the rest of the army before they could settle into camp.

  Fronto dismounted in front of the valetudinarium, a joint temporary hospital for the use of all six legions and manned by staff from them all. He saw two capsarii lowering a man onto a stretcher just outside.

  “Capsarius!”

  The nearest turned and looked up. He smiled.

  “Legate Fronto.”

  Fronto blinked.

  “Florus. How’s the medical life treating you?”

  “Very well sir. I’m now officially a capsarius. No more trench digging for me, sir. What can I do for you?”

  Fronto gestured at the dusty troops behind him.

  “Just cuts and bruises really. Lot of them though. I’ll come and chat while they work if you’ve got the time.”

  * * * * *

  Gaius Valerius Procillus sat in a campaign chair and sighed contentedly. He reached him arm to the left and waggled the goblet. With audible grumbles, Velius reached down for the jar of wine and the jug of water and refilled the staff officer’s drink. Procillus smiled down into the red liquid and shook his head as if in a daze.

  “And what did you do then?”

  Fronto grimaced.

  “I suppose I just shut up. Velius definitely knew what he was doing and I think I was really in far over my head. If you know Velius, you’ll know that if he’s right it doesn’t do to argue.”

  Procillus frowned and glanced sideways at Velius.

  “I’d not met him before.” He gestured at Velius. “You honestly talk like that to a senior officer.”

  Fronto smiled as Velius growled gently.

  “Only when I deserve it.”

  Balbus cleared his throat.

  “I used to worry about Velius’ attitude but I think now that it’s people like him that are the main reason the army works. He’s quite reasonable when you get to know him.”

  Procillus shrugged.

  “I try not to judge anyone on a first impression. That’s just stupid. After all, if I did that I’d never have invited Mettius to a drink. Look at him. Looks like he fell off an aqueduct and landed on his face.”

  Marcus Mettius grunted.

  “At least I’m not effeminate.”

  Balbus spluttered over his drink.

  “Effeminate?”

  Mettius grinned.

  “He once got dragged off the street into a house and nearly got a nasty surprise on the Aventine.”

  Fronto smiled at the two. He’d not met them before, though he’d seen them a few times at staff meetings. They seemed to be quite reasonable for high-class Senatorial officers. Fronto leaned forward in his chair.

  “So you two are to be Caesar’s spies then?”

  Procillus put his finger to his chin.

  “Spy is an ugly word, Marcus. We’re information gatherers, scouts, observers and, at times, diplomats.”

  Fronto smiled.

  “Perhaps. Caesar seems to think that the two men camped on the other side of the stream are German ambassadors and I tend to agree. He thinks that Ariovistus sent them to apologise and set up a new meeting. I don’t think Ariovistus cares enough to apologise. To my mind, the only reason those two haven’t crossed the dip and come to see us is because they’re worried about whether they’ll be murdered by the soldiers as soon as they do.”

  Balbus nodded sagely.

  “They’re right, too. The Eighth are ready to tear the Germans limb from limb. I can only imagine how your boys feel, Marcus. I don’t know why Caesar wanted the five of us here, but I think we’ll all be summoned any time now to go see them. If I were the General, I’d send them back with no communications, but he doesn’t think like that. I think you two are going with them.”

  Procillus and Mettius glanced at each other and then at their companions.

  “Look. We’re going as ambassadors. We can observe and scout while we’re there, but we’re just ambassadors. I can speak three or four different dialects of Gaulish and German, and Mettius has stayed with Ariovistus years ago when we were first in contact with him.”

  Fronto nodded, smiling.

  “I thought I hadn’t seen the two of you much during the campaign so far. You were pointed out to me yesterday and I didn’t even know you. So have you been creeping around among the enemy all this time, or have you just been being nondescript and hiding among the staff waiting until you were needed?”

  Procillus’ face took on a serious slant for a moment.

  “Marcus, be very careful. I know you’re only joking, but what we do is very serious, very useful and very, very above board. We’re ambassadors, remember? Nothing more and nothing less.”

  Fronto nodded.

  “I didn’t mean to wind you up. I’m just intrigued. I’d expected Labienus or Brutus or maybe even Sabinus to do it if there were any more talking.”

  Mettius opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the General’s voice from outside.

  “Gentlemen.”

  As the five of them filed out of the tent, Caesar, astride his white charger and wearing his scarlet cloak, smiled at them.

  “Let’s go and make life uncomfortable for Ariovistus.”

  The six officers made their way down across the stream and up the other bank to where the two German riders sat patiently waiting. Caesar dismounted and stood among his officers.

  “Speak.”

  Ariovistus’ men shared a private look and then one of them cleared his throat.

  “King Ariovistus want new meeting. Want Roman General to come.”

  He sat back in his saddle and made a gesture indicating that he had finished. Caesar shook his head, a stern look on his face.

  “After the last conference and the German treachery of breaking a truce I am disinclined to meet with him again except on the field of battle.”

  The German looked puzzled.

  “King want Roman General to come.”

  Caesar sighed.

  “I am willing to send ambassadors to speak to your King and to make one last attempt to resolve this peacefully.”

  Fronto smiled inwardly. There was no hope and indeed no desire to resolve this peacefully. Caesar had always wanted war and all visible attempts at diplomacy had been just one ruse after another to buy time or to boost morale. He wondered what the General’s ulterior motive was this time. Something that revolved around his two ‘scouts’. Caesar indicated the two with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

  “I will send two of my staff. Gaius Valerius Procillus speaks your language and Marcus Mettius was once a guest of your King beyond the Rhine. They may speak for me. If there is a way to end this peacefully and acceptably, they will achieve it. I need to discuss a few matters here, but they will set off shortly. Please be good enough to go and inform your King of their imminent arrival.”

  The Germans nodded and, wheeling their horses, galloped off to the north east. Caesar turned to face the officers.

  “We need to give them a little bit of a head start. Mettius? Procillus? You know what you have to do. Fronto, Ba
lbus and Velius, you are going follow them with an honour guard of cavalry. I don’t want to provoke an incident yet and I don’t want a skirmish, so I’m only sending twenty men with you. See them safely to the German camp and then leave them alone.”

  Fronto frowned at Caesar.

  “Shouldn’t Longinus and his men be doing this?”

  The general smiled.

  “I’ve got other tasks for Longinus right now and the Tenth will make a good honour guard. They were the reason the last conference collapsed, and the Germans have to be aware of that. By all rights they should expect you to go a little mad and kill a few of them. Your presence should discomfit them and I like that.”

  Balbus frowned now.

  “Why me, Caesar? I’ve nothing to do with the Tenth.”

  “But you are a level-headed tactical officer and that’s an attribute that, for all his ability, Fronto sometimes lacks. Go with Fronto and Velius to the camp of the Tenth and pick twenty cavalry who look glorious and have good records. As soon as you’re ready, pick up Procillus and Mettius from the praetorium and get going. Any questions now?”

  Fronto and Balbus looked at each other and grumbled, but there was no point in arguing with the General when his mind was made up.

  As they wandered off toward the Tenth, Balbus shrugged.

  “Pointless.”

  Fronto gritted and ground his teeth.

  “Not just pointless, but dangerous too. Two senior commanders and a high-ranking centurion just to baby sit ambassadors on the road? It’s asking for trouble.”

  Balbus shook his head.

  “Not trouble. You heard what he said. There’s to be no skirmishing or trouble. We’re just an honour guard.”

  As they crossed the rampart, Fronto shouted to the primus pilus.

  “Priscus, get twenty clean and neat men on horseback as soon as you can and send them to the praetorium.”

  Priscus raised an eyebrow.

  “Just do it.”

  A glimpse at the look on Fronto’s face brooked no further argument. Priscus nodded and dashed off into the camp.

  Five minutes later, as they stood in the praetorium with Mettius and Procillus, the Tenth Legion cavalry escort arrived, leading their horses. Priscus had done well. Fronto recognised a number of them and knew their courage, but they were also smart, right down to the crests on their helmets.