The Belgae

by S. J. A. Turney

  “And those with vision can see that Rome will win. Rome will always win.”

  Caesar raised an eyebrow and Antebrogius shrugged.

  “As I said, I study these things. I have read of your wars with Carthage and in Spain. Of your friend Pompey and his pirates. Rome will always win because Rome does not believe it can lose and a Roman never gives up. One day we will all speak Latin and no one will remember the language of the Belgae.”

  He slapped his hand on his chest.

  “I can see this, and my people can see it too, even if the druids and the rest of the Belgae cannot.”

  He stood.

  “So… on behalf of the Remi, I offer our people and our lands to you, general. We have refused the call to stand against you and have made enemies of our brothers. Thus I entreat you to deal with us as allies. We will provide you with information, supplies, food, shelter and even men. In return we ask only that Rome promises to grant its protection to the Remi. What is your answer, Caesar?”

  The general smiled.

  “Antebrogius, you are a wise man indeed. Though I myself intend to stay in Gaul only to protect our friends and our interests, I would say that you are correct. One day these lands will know the benefits of Roman law and engineering, of that I am sure. And when those days draw closer, it is those who embrace them that will gain the most. I would ask whether you are alone among the Belgae in seeking peace with Rome?”

  Antebrogius nodded sadly.

  “We tried in council to persuade out neighbours, the Suessiones, to join us. They are part of the same people as the Remi, but there was little support for us among them, and in the end, pride won out and they have sent their warriors to the gathering Belgae. It pains me, but yes; we are alone.”

  Caesar’s brow furrowed.

  “What can you tell us about this army?”

  “The force will be vast, general. Not only all of the other tribes of the Belgae gather, but also many of the Germanic tribes from near the Rhine and even some from across it. Much of the blood of the Belgae is descended from those Germans who settled here generations ago. It is said that it is the fierceness of the German blood, mixed with the cleverness of the Gauls, which makes the Belgae so dangerous.”

  “We need more detail, Antebrogius. Numbers, even, if you have them.”

  The two chieftains exchanged looks and words quickly in their own language and then Antebrogius turned back to the visitors.

  “Our information is a little vague, of course, since we have not been present at the war council. However, we have a slight advantage. Those same Suessiones who we failed to convince of our wisdom have been made the leaders of the gathering host and, through estimates from familial connections, we are able to estimate their numbers at around three hundred thousands of men.”

  Fronto realised he’d just whistled through his teeth and clamped his mouth shut. Unprofessional idiot! But still… three hundred thousand warriors. Not a long way from ten-to-one odds. He found himself wondering about the wisdom of the Remi’s decision.

  Caesar, however, seemed to have been unfazed by this revelation. He nodded thoughtfully.

  “Any details on how that is comprised? Anything we can use?”

  Antebrogius nodded.

  “The Bellovaci are known as the bravest of all the Belgae, and they have given the most men. Probably around sixty thousand. The Nervii are by far the most warlike. It is they who called for war in the first place. Between them and the Suessiones, they will field around a hundred thousand. Perhaps forty thousand will be Germanic allies. Other than that, smaller numbers from the other tribes.”

  Caesar sighed.

  “Are any of those smaller tribes likely to be open to persuasion?”

  Antebrogius shook his head.

  “Not with the Bellovaci, the Nervii and the Suessiones in control.”

  Caesar nodded.

  “Very well. Here is my offer.”

  He leaned forward in a businesslike manner.

  “You will supply us with food out of only the excess your tribe can spare. Your chieftains will each levy a number of men to be assigned to our cavalry. It is the custom of Celtic allies to give hostages to one another to promote loyalty. As such, I will require the eldest heir of each chief to be delivered to me. That man will act as our hostage, but will also be assigned to lead his own tribesmen.”

  Antebrogius frowned.

  “This is a great deal to ask, Caesar.”

  “But I am not finished, Antebrogius. Those men will serve with us for this year. After that, we will renegotiate. However, bear in mind that those men will be taught everything we have to teach about war and the army. They will become more powerful than ever before; more powerful than other Belgae war chiefs.”

  He smiled.

  “Also: In return, we will provide a small garrison to protect each of your settlements during this campaign. These men will be a mixture of professional legionaries and auxiliaries and can teach your people Latin, how to build roads, create aqueducts, and the rudiments of civic defences, as well as providing protection. Think what this could do for the Remi.”

  Antebrogius sat back and nodded slowly to himself.

  “I see the wisdom in your words, Caesar and, since I speak for the Remi, consider our word given. It may take a little time to explain this to my peers and to gain their agreement. I will visit your camp tomorrow morning, if that is acceptable?”

  The general nodded.

  “Most acceptable, Antebrogius. I look forward to it.”

  He stood and nodded to the officers.

  “Gentlemen? I believe we’re done here. Let us return to camp.”

  Wordlessly, the Roman commanders followed Caesar’s lead, standing, bowing to the chieftains, and then leaving the hall in single file.

  Once they were safely out of audible distance and half way across the square, Fronto caught up with Caesar, checked that none of the other officers were too close, and cleared his throat.

  “At the risk of irritating you,” he said quietly, “that was uncharacteristically generous of you?”

  A look of surprise passed across Caesar’s face before he settled once more into an unreadable expression.

  “Marcus, we are in extremely dangerous territory, facing very heavy odds. What do you expect?”

  “But to offer to train them and their leaders? You could be teaching a future enemy how to beat us.”

  Caesar shook his head.

  “If they help us win this war it’ll be worth it and we’ll have a staunch ally. If we lose, it won’t make any difference to us. We have a huge force arrayed against us, but it’s made up of lots of smaller groups with age-old internecine feuds. We have to widen the cracks until the Belgae shatter. It’s all a matter of playing the odds, Fronto. You’re a gambler. You should know that.”

  Fronto fixed his gaze on the road ahead and grunted.

  “I think at this point, I’d pick up my dice and my remaining denarii and go home!”

  * * * * *

  Antebrogius the Remi chieftain bowed deeply to Fronto in the bright morning light as the man left Caesar’s tent. The legate of the Tenth nodded back absently, stepping aside to let him return to his town with his accompanying warriors. Waiting only a moment, tapping his foot on the springy turf, he entered without knocking.

  Caesar looked up in surprise from the documents on his desk.

  “Fronto? I didn’t send for you?”

  The legate nodded.

  “I know, general, but I need to go through a few things.”

  Caesar pushed aside the lists he had been examining and sat back, folding his arms.

  “Go ahead, then. This can wait.”

  “I’ve been looking at the campaign maps of the Belgae lands and there’s just no way we can move on the army while protecting the lands of the Remi, and those defensive garrisons you were talking about will be fine for the look of things, but they’d be slaughtered to a man if the main host of Belgae suddenly hove into v
iew.”

  Caesar nodded quietly and thoughtfully.

  “Give me specifics, Fronto.”

  “Well…” the legate said, wandering across to Caesar’s map, hanging on the wall of the command tent, and illustrating his points with a finger.

  “We’re here in the south, where the Remi are.” He pointed further up. “The Belgae are massing to the north. That’s where we’ll have to go to fight them.”

  He waved his arm vaguely to the left.

  “Yet there’s a lot of Remi land over here, away from the area the two armies will meet, but with a lot of borders with the enemy. We cannot be sure the entire force is massing in the one place. If we march north and find only three quarters of the enemy, it’s possible the other quarter will sweep west and south and extinguish the Remi and our garrisons and sever our supply lines.”

  Caesar smiled.

  “And you think I’ve not planned for this?”

  “Well unless Crassus is really hiding just over those hills out there, or you’ve got two more magic new legions hidden outside, then that would mean splitting the army. And the odds are already bad enough.”

  The general’s smile was starting to irk him as it always did at times like this. It seemed vaguely smug.

  “What!”

  Caesar sighed.

  “We have a secret ally. I’m trying not to reveal too many of the tricks I have hidden up my sleeve, Marcus. It’s a surprise and I want it to stay like that. The more people know about it, the more chance there is of word reaching the Belgae and of them being prepared.”

  Fronto grumbled.

  “I’m not going to run and tell the bloody Belgae, am I?”

  “I suppose not. You remember the half dozen riders I sent out from Vesontio?”

  Fronto nodded.

  “To your niece in Rome, yes.”

  For a moment, Caesar looked nonplussed. Just for a fraction of a second, before an ophidian smile slithered across his face again.

  “Yes. Not all to Atia, though. Two to Rome. Three to Bibracte.”

  “Bibracte?”

  Fronto’s mind rushed ahead.

  “You called on the Aedui for help. You’ve got Divitiacus’ Gauls coming up as a second army?”

  The smile widened on the general’s face. Fronto could understand that, but couldn’t quite lose the image of that moment of blankness just now regarding the couriers. It nagged at him.

  “They should already be encamped maybe ten miles from the edge of Remi territory in the lands of the Parisii, just north of Lutetia.”

  Fronto frowned.

  “And if there isn’t another army out there? What’s Divitiacus to do then?”

  Caesar smiled an unpleasant smile.

  “Then he has orders to burn the enemy lands to a cinder until there is. He’s got to attract their attention. We need to split the enemy up and even the odds a little. Cracks widening, remember?”

  Fronto nodded slowly.

  “I can see that, yes.”

  In the privacy of his own head, he added ‘but I wouldn’t approve of scorching the land to attract their attention. One day we might need these people.’

  There was a moment’s silence and then Caesar stretched.

  “I’ve been thinking about Paetus and I’ve decided what we should do. I can’t be certain whether Clodius is the hub of all my troubles, or merely a piece in the game of someone more dangerous. Clodius is certainly disrupting things for myself and many of my allies, but two things nag at me about it.”

  Fronto raised an eyebrow.

  “Firstly,” the general said quietly, “I wouldn’t have credited him with enough intelligence to create a network of men, even in provincial armies, stirring up trouble. Clodius always struck me as a thug; a blunt tool. He’s ambitious, but I can’t believe he’s clever enough to work out how to play men like Crassus, Pompey and myself off to achieve his goals. That sounds to me like someone else pulling his strings.”

  Fronto nodded slowly.

  “That would mean someone more powerful than Clodius too.”

  “And richer,” added the general. “That’s the other thing. Clodius isn’t from a great line like Crassus. His family were of middling importance like mine and I had to borrow to the point of bankruptcy to get where I am. So where does Clodius’ money come from?”

  Fronto sighed.

  “So it looks like Clodius is himself being used.”

  “Yes. So we need to employ Paetus not for disinformation, but to try and discern more about what’s happening in Rome. I can get a good sense of what’s going on when I’m there, but I can only get to Rome in the winter. For the summer, I have to be here. We need to somehow flush Clodius’ patron, if he has one, out into the open.”

  Fronto nodded.

  “So what do we know about Clodius that we can use?”

  Caesar sighed.

  “It’s not something I try to advertise, but the man seduced my wife.”

  Fronto blinked.

  “He seduced Calpurnia?”

  Caesar rolled his eyes.

  “Gods, Fronto, no! My former wife, Pompeia. Don’t you pay any attention to what goes on in Rome? Didn’t you even wonder why I divorced her?”

  In the privacy of his own head, Fronto trotted through several very unkind responses while deliberately keeping his expression blank.

  “I try not to pry, Caesar.”

  He frowned.

  “So the question is: did he do that to get to you, in which case he was already conspiring against you years ago, or is what he’s doing now is some sort of weird revenge?”

  “It was the reason for our divorce four years ago, as I said. I divested myself of her, but actually helped Clodius avoid prosecution to keep the scandal as detached from me as possible.” Caesar frowned. “He can’t want revenge... I saved him from trial. At the time I very much blamed Pompeia but, in retrospect, with what has been happening this past year in Rome, I’m starting to wonder whether perhaps it was all down to Clodius.”

  Fronto tapped his finger on the table.

  “Perhaps Pompeia is the key? She’s not remarried, has she? Perhaps she’s still in league with the man? Or at least perhaps he is interested in her? We need to know more before you decide what to do. Could you ask her about him?”

  Caesar laughed a laugh with no humour.

  “Pompeia will not exchange a single word with me. I’m afraid I was quite unkind when we parted. Besides, Calpurnia and I have only been married two years. She may take exception if I communicate with Pompeia.”

  “Hmm.” Fronto drew a deep breath, once again thanking Nemesis, his patron Goddess, that he’d managed to remain blissfully single for so long. “You need to find out more about Clodius. Pompeia might have the information you seek, but won’t speak to you. I do believe the answer’s staring you in the face, Caesar.”

  A frown.

  “Paetus…” Fronto said, tapping his finger on the table.

  “Paetus can send a message to Pompeia, imploring her to speak to Clodius and intervene with the matter of his debt.”

  Caesar shrugged.

  “It’s very likely Pompeia has no connection at all with Clodius now. If she does, she’ll certainly have no leverage.”

  Fronto slapped his hand flat on the table.

  “But you’ll know. You’ll know whether any of this involves Pompeia.”

  Another unpleasant feral smile crossed the general’s face.

  “I think we can go one step better than that.”

  Fronto raised a suspicious eyebrow.

  “We can have Paetus send that message, but imploring her to speak to Clodius’ patron and intervene instead! We can discover in one move what connections the man has.”

  Fronto nodded, but his frown deepened.

  “That’s true, but I have to point out, given what I’ve heard about Clodius, the amount of danger that will put Pompeia in.”

  “Yes, yes,” Caesar said dismissively, waving an arm, “but thi
nk of what we could learn. Go and find Paetus. Speak to him about…”

  His voice tailed off as there was a knock at the doorframe.

  “Yes?”

  The duty guard centurion stepped inside and saluted.

  “Apologies for interrupting, Caesar, but some of our scouts have just returned at high speed.”

  Fronto turned, interested.

  “They report a large force of Belgae moving south through the lands of the Nervii towards us.”

  Caesar smiled.

  “Sounds like it’s time to move, Fronto. Time to put away all this intrigue and deal with plain old war. We’ll speak to Paetus later.”

  He turned back to the centurion.

  “Sound the general muster. I want officers to me and all the legions to begin decamping. And send me three riders.”

  He stood and squared his shoulders.

  “Time to get the Aedui advancing too.”

  Fronto smiled with relief. Thank the Gods for that. His head was getting tied up in all this political crap. The more he delved, the more he remembered why he stayed away from Rome. Life was so much more simple when it came down to just putting the boot into a few barbarians.

  Chapter 5

  (By the Aisne river, around fifteen miles from Durocorteron)

  “Groma: the chief surveying instrument of a Roman military engineer, used for marking out straight lines and calculating angles.”

  Fronto strode forward to the command party. Caesar and half a dozen of his staff officers were standing at the head of the halted column, gazing down the slope and across the river to the far bank. Here, the grassy hill dipped down to a small copse by the water. The river was perhaps thirty or forty feet across and deep by the look of it. On the other side, a little off to the side a small hillock rose with an impressive command of the valley.

  Caesar smiled.

  “We cannot be more than ten miles at most from the Belgae here and, given their numbers, I want a well protected position to work from.”

  There were nods of assent around him.

  “Clearly that’s the place for the camp” said Labienus, pointing at the hill opposite.”

  Fronto cleared his throat.