Marius' Mules IX: Pax Gallica

by Turney, S. J. A.

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ Fronto smiled. ‘I have instructed my men to purchase appropriate food and drink for the legion. Hopefully we can contribute a little to your economic rebirth. I will have a small donation delivered to this council chamber in the morning in gratitude for your welcome , and perhaps, if it is of use, some of our engineers can help you with you r work? ’

  ‘An inte resting proposal. Let us talk.’

  A quarter hour of pleasant small-talk ensued before deals had been struck, the two Carnute leaders ran out of things to say and finally Fronto, Decius and Galronus emerged from the house into the street .

  ‘I never had you pegged as a diplomat,’ Decius grinned. ‘You seem like a different Fronto to the one I remember at Bibrax.’

  ‘But put a sword in his hand and point him at an enemy and just watch,’ snorted Galronus. ‘He doesn’t change.’

  ‘ Although it appears that the world does,’ Fronto sighed with unexpected contentment. His gaze picked out half a dozen cavalrymen with Aurelius buying basket upon basket of fresh-caught fish, laughing as they negotiated. Across the way , more soldiers were finalising a deal with a baker. And further up the street, Masgava had the two boys with their stick swords facing each other, stomping through prac tise moves as though they were on a legionary parade ground.

  ‘ The world does change. And that , gentlemen,’ he said, p ointing out the scenes of inter national domesticity, ‘is why we ride for Aquitania. Because Caesar’s Pax Gallica is important. It does work. And what you can see here justifies more than anything what we’ve been through in recent years. No more fear and hatred between Roman and Gaul. After three and a half centuries of distrust living alongside one another, finally it can all end. We won a war, but not to destroy or conquer. To include and to adopt. Now Gaul can be another Narbonensis or Africa. Part of the republic, with its own identity. That is why we have to bring peace to Aquitania, even if it’s by force.’

  * * *

  The Ides of Aprilis passed barely noticed somewhere en-route, t he festival of Tubilustrum which marked the begi nning of the campaigning season come and gone somewhere in the wilds on the march, too. And now as they stared the end of Aprilis in the eye four days south of Burdigala, a field hand who had stood blinking in surprise at the passing Roman column had confirmed they were in the lands of the Aquitanii . Specifically, in fact, the Sotiates , upon who m Crassus had planted his boot six years earlier.

  Fronto watched as his men set up camp for the night on a long, low slope that rose toward the south, amid a huge pine forest that seemed to dominate the landscape. It had initially come as some surprise to find such a large swathe of clear land among the endless trees, but the reason had quickly become apparent to the scouts. At the top of the slope – at the far, southern, end – st ood a deserted village. It had been empty for some time, with no sign of life, and the open expanse had been farmland, lovingly cut from the heart of the forest, but long since left to fallow.

  ‘How long do you reckon the houses have been empty ?’ Fronto asked Galronus, who had ridden the perimeter with the scouts upon their arrival.

  ‘It’s hard to tell, they’re so crude, but the roofs are largely intact and the timbers have not fallen apart on the doors, so my gue ss is no more than a year. Probably only half that.’

  ‘So this is not the work of Crassus’ campaign down here?’

  ‘ We never came quite this far west Fronto. We fought in the lands of the Sotiates , but further east. We took their fortress maybe fifty miles east of here, then turned south to take on the Vocates and the Tarusates . We never even got close to the mountains. Just the foothills. Anyway, there do not appear to be signs of struggle and deliberate destruction here . My guess would be that the population of this place picked up all their goods and their livestock and abandoned it sometime during last summer or autumn.’

  ‘About the time Caesar toured the place.’

  ‘At a guess. I only had the briefest of looks, though. ’

  Let’s go have a look.’ Fronto looked out over the steadily growing ramparts until he spotted Decius and Masgava deep in conversation. ‘Decius? Grab your horse and come with me. Masgava, you and Carbo have the legion.’

  The big Numidian, his lieutenant, nodded and went off to seek Carbo while Decius grasped the reins of his horse from the equisio who stood nearby and mounted, trotting over to where Fronto and Galronus waited.

  ‘We’re going to have a closer look at this deserted village while there’s enough light. Come on.’

  The three men – legate, cavalry c ommander and auxiliary prefect – rod e off across the open grassland with Aurelius close behind, staying by the legate’s shoulder as expected of a bodyguard.

  The village was little more than a hamlet , really. Eleven houses and some sort of meeting hall, with various farm structures on the outskirts, including a granary on timber stilts and some sort of sty. There was something unearthly about the place in the dimming light of a spring evening, and Fronto couldn’t suppress a shiver as they approached.

  ‘I don’t like this place,’ murmured Aurelius to the rear. Fronto bit his tongue to prevent himself replying. The soldier was always prey to strong superstition, and it was the legate’s wont to berate him for foolishness when he made unfounded credulous comments. But on this particular occasion Fronto could feel it too, and from the looks on their faces Galronu s and Decius were of a similar mind.

  ‘There is definitely something off here,’ he muttered, slowing his horse at the first building and slipping from the saddle. As the others followed suit and tied their reins to a post, the four men began to pick their way around the village.

  ‘Didn’t they say that Caesar had an altar to peace raised in every Aquitani tribe’s settlements?’ Decius mused. ‘I don’t see one.’

  ‘This place is too small and insignificant,’ Galronus shrugged. ‘Altars would only have been placed in the larger towns and the tribal meeting places.’

  The auxiliary prefect nodded and leaned into the door of a hut. ‘Smells musty and old. And there’s holes in the roof. Are you sure it’s been less than a year?’

  Galronus passed through the doorway next to him and scouted around for a moment. Holding his hand over his mouth and nose against cloying dust, he picked something up and threw it to Decius, who caught it gingerly, as though half expecting it to bite.

  ‘A cloak?’

  ‘Part of one,’ Galronus confirmed. ‘Torn and so left behind, I presume. It’s soggy and starting to unravel badly, but wool like that will be gone within a year if abandoned to the elements . Judging by the state of it, I’d say its owner left late autumn last year. It’s been a wet winter, so the wool is in poor condition.’

  Fronto nodded as he took the wool scrap from the prefect’s hand and peered at it. ‘So probably not long after the general made his visits around here. Wonder what he said that caused them to up and leave th eir village, livestock included.’

  Aurelius peered into the gloom past them all. ‘If they did leave of their own volition.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well it sounds to me like everyone’s assuming that they just left. Let me check something.’

  As the others ducked back to let him pass, the former legionary picked up a broken stick-broom from the wall near the doorway and began to move around the small hut, methodically prodding the floor. After some time, with the others watching in perplexed fascination, he finally stopped, slamming the staff into the floor in the same place several times. ‘The moment of truth,’ he said and dropped to a crouch, grabbing a piece of fallen timber and using it like a spade to clear away the dirt of the floor.

  ‘What is he doing?’ Decius asked quietly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Fronto replied quietly. ‘I find with Aurelius it’s best to wait until he’s finished. His explanations can get a little… involved.’

  Finally, Aurelius paused and heaved in a breath. ‘That answers that question,’ he said darkly,
lifting something from the hole he had dug. A filthy bag lay in his hands and he quickly untied the thong and fished inside, producing a silver ring and half a dozen coins of varying origin.

  ‘Explain?’

  ‘Well you nobles, sir, have strong - rooms and factors who look after your money. Poor folk, be they Roman or Gaul, or apparently Aquitanii , bury their valuables to keep them safe. And this family’s valuables are still here. So they didn’t leave by choice , or if they did, they did so quickly, in a panic and a rush . They didn’t stop to collect heirlooms. ’

  Decius blinked in surprise. ‘Clever,’ he muttered, nodding at Aurelius.

  ‘Spread out,’ Fronto said, tensely. ‘Find whatever you can to help explain this.’

  As the others started to scout through the huts and around their outside, peering intently into the gathering gloom, Fronto strolled to the centre of the small hamlet, where he could see the whole place. Standing still, he slowly turned full circle taking in the village. As he turned, his heel sank into soft ground and he stepped aside, frowning, and looked down at where he’d been standing. His heel had sunk into what had looked like hard-packed dirt. Not deep, mind, but half a hand width was more than he’d expect in this ground. The rest of the village was hard-packed light and dusty dirt.

  Dropping to his knees, he brushed the dirt aside and gradually revealed a darker patch . The dry, poor , almost gravelly soil he had watched pass underfoot ever since Burdigala would not contain such a layer of darker, clay-like material. His studies of soil types for wine growing had taught him a few things, after all. So what was this?

  ‘Galronus?’

  The Remi noble came sauntering over and dropped to a crouch opposite him.

  ‘What do you make of this?’

  Galronus peered at it, picked up a little of the darker dust between his fingers and crumbled it, then sniffed it, and finally touched it to his tongue. ‘I cannot say for certain, but I’d be willing to wager it was blood. Long enough ago that it’s now just a stain in the soil. It was buried?’

  Fronto nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Someone was wounded or killed here and soil sprinkled over the blood. Not enough for a whole village, but maybe one or two people?’

  Galronus nodded.

  ‘Legate!’

  They rose at the sound of Aurelius’ voice and turned to see him standing by the pig-pen. Decius came jogging from a hut as they converged on the former legionary . ‘Think we might have found evidence,’ Aurelius muttered, poking the contents of the pen with his broken broom. Fronto peered into it. As the wooden staff shoved aside the old, congealed murk, bone became visible.

  ‘So whatever happened here, someone was killed and then fed to the pigs. Not the whole village, mind. We’ve found signs of blood in the open square, but just of one or two people. An execution, I think, rather than a fight. And done to invoke fear and obedience. Otherwise why do it at the heart of the village in sight of everyone. ’ Fronto sighed and leaned back. ‘Whatever happened here, it frightened the rest into leaving en-masse and quickly . Aurelius, I think your instincts were right. This place gives me the creeps too. Let’s hope the rest of Aquitania’s a little better. Regardless, I think we’ll have a double guard tonight and move off at dawn. I want to get to Lapurda and speak to the garrison commander there.’

  * * *

  Th e column had changed imperceptibly over that night and the next few days. By the time the army was eight days out of Burdigala and less than two from their destination at Lapurda, the general pace had picked up, despite the increasing tiredness of the legion since the last day’s rest. No longer were helmets carried hanging from the scarf as was common on long marches. Some indefinable change in the air had led to each and every man wearing his helmet. Moreover, shields had been unslung from backs and carried in hand despite the extra weight and encumbrance. On Fronto’s order all marching poles and excess kit had been put in the wagons to be brought along behind. The legion was ready for a fight, and they could feel one coming in some inexplicable way.

  Fronto rode at the front of the column alongside Masgava and Carbo. Galronus was out somewhere ahead with his scouts , Atenos with the first cohort and Decius was stomping alongside somewhere. The auxiliaries had been split into fifty man groups and surrounded the column .

  Fronto peered ahead into the great flat distance, half expecting to see the Pyrenaei mountains that further southeast loomed like a tombstone above the lands of the Aquitanii , but it would be some distance south yet before the hazy blue sawblade of the mountains emerged on the horizon . Lowland slowly gave way to higher hills, then narrow valleys and finally high pea k s The tribes lived in the lowlands all the way north almost to Burdigala, and west to the sea, east almost to Roman Narbonensis, and right the way up into the highest peaks. In fact, the Aquitanian tribes even inhabited the passes and the higher valleys on the far side of the mountains, where they looked down upon Hispanic tribes and the great city of Tarraco. Fronto was musing on how such a disparate topography could be said to give rise to one people when he heard a voice calling ‘ L egate.’

  He turned and glanced to his left. There, a unit of Cretan archers strode alongside, nervously. They were hardly armoured at all compared to the legionaries, and yet had been assigned to the flank to add mobile protection. It took him a moment to recognise Arcadios among the others, so similar was he, apart from the officer’s tunic he wore now. The former singulares archer was jogging out of the ranks toward him.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I cannot say for certain, sir,’ the archer said, quietly, ‘but I am fairly sure we’re being watched .’

  Fronto’s attention once more shot to his surroundings as he scoured a circuit. To the right , down the gentlest of slopes, a sizeable dark lake brooded, mist rising from its waters and wreathing around the grasses and reeds protruding from the surface all around the edge . The front of the column had not ye t reached the end of the lake. Both a head and behind , scrubland stre tched away to distant treelines and to the left the ground sloped up very gradually, with deep dry grasses and pine trees scattered across the landscape like the pox.

  ‘How can you tell? ’ Fronto replied to the archer. ‘ Where?’

  Arcadios shrugged. ‘ Across the lake. I have seen movement in the trees over there three times now. Too big to be creatures in the undergrowth, too small to be deer or bear.’

  ‘Could a good archer take shots at us across the water with any real hope of success?’

  ‘A good one, yes. They would have to be very good, but then I have heard they do have excellent hunters in these regions. It is possible that this is all innocent, of course, sir. Movement does not make them necessarily the enemy. Perhaps they’re hunters?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ But something that was running along Fronto’s spine like a frisson of energy said otherwise. ‘Regardless, could you get the best archers and slingers on the right flank and have them as ready as they can be. And have a word with Atenos. I want the legionaries ready to shield them if need be’

  ‘You expecting trouble, sir?’

  ‘Always expect trouble, Arcadios, that way you’re never taken unawares.’

  Glancing around as the archer scurried off to carry out the orders, Fronto scanned the area until he spotted Galronus and a small unit of mounted scouts ambling back toward them, unconcerned. There were, of course, no Aquitanii among the native scouts, since he intended to pick up local help at Lapurda, but there were one or two southern Gauls from around the Burdigala area who had been part of both Crassus ’ and Caesar’s expeditions, and were familiar with the region.

  As he watched the scouts close on him, Fronto turned to see the senior centuries of the First Cohort tromping along behind him. He could just see Arruntius leading the Second C entury immediately behind Atenos’ First. Turning his horse, he dropped back along the column and fell into position alongside the ageing centurion.

  ‘Arruntius?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘O
ne of the men thinks he saw human movement among the trees across the lake. It’s too tight woodland for horse, but I think we’ll all feel a lot happier if we check it out. Pick two contubernia of your fittest, fastest men. Tell them to leave their pila and any extra weight here. Get them ready to run out and check over the woods. I’ll have a couple of scouts go with them.’

  Arruntius nodded and turned, selecting two squads of eight men and relaying the orders. Leaving the centurion to it, Fronto rode forward again to see Galronus. Fortunately one of the riders coming in with the Remi noble was one of th os e same Burdigalan natives he had been introduced to at Nemetocenna before they left.

  ‘Might be trouble in the woods,’ the legate murmured to Galronus, pointing out across the misty lake. I’m having two tent-parties of the best men run around and check it out but a couple of scouts, especially the more local ones, might be very helpful.’

  Galronus nodded, and detailed two men to dismount and join the legionary party that was rapidly forming to the right. ‘Do we wait?’ the Remi asked quietly.

  ‘No. Keep the column moving. Whatever happens I want to get to Lapurda fast. This place is feeling less friendly with every mile south we travel . In fact, I’m quite tempted to say screw the exhaustion and march through the night. If my calculations are right we could be there by dawn if we really push it. The men’ll be ragged, mind .’

  Galronus rolled his shoulders. ‘Give the men a co uple of days off when we arrive and you could march them over coals tonight.’

  ‘Pass the word, then. We’ll do that. No one in this column is going to be unhappy we’re not camping in this shitty place , anyway . ’

  Fronto felt his nerves beginning to twang and the hairs stand proud on the back of his neck. He’d always had a talent for anticipating trouble, and could feel that odd sense beating at the fringes of his consciousness right now. Those men were no hunters , he was sure . But why were they watching the Roman column, and was i t connected with that empty village in some way ?