FIELDS OF MARS

by S. J. A. Turney

  Caesar pinched the bridge of his nose.

  ‘It seems that Titus Labienus has departed, resigning his command. He rode for Massilia where he took ship for Neapolis to join Pompey.’

  Fronto blinked. Labienus?

  There was a stunned drawing of breath around the room as the news sank in. Labienus had been Caesar’s ablest lieutenant. His staunchest ally, and the only man who could rival Antonius or Fronto in the general’s esteem. He had been so trusted by Caesar in fact that he had often been given whole swathes of legions and sent off to do the general’s work as well as he could himself.

  ‘Labienus, it seems, tried to persuade the legions to follow him into the enemy’s service. Fortunately, they remain loyal to me and refused. But he did take almost four thousand cavalry with him, mostly of Gallic and Belgic origin, but including our dreaded German horsemen. Our enemies have had good cause to fear those cavalry over the years and now is seems that soon we might be facing them ourselves.’

  Fronto remembered the vicious horsemen at work with a shudder. The very idea of Labienus facing him across a battlefield was worse in almost every way than Pompey. And the inclusion of the Gallic, Belgic and German cavalry was pulse-quickening. He glanced at Galronus and could see the conflicting emotions on his friend’s face. This had suddenly become a civil war for him too. Rather than fighting with Romans against Romans, there was now every chance he might take the field and find himself facing cavalry drawn from his own Remi tribe.

  ‘The good news, Caesar?’ Fronto urged. ‘You said there was some hope? Pompey I presume?’

  Caesar nodded. ‘It is slim hope, admittedly, but I am forced to consider it nonetheless.’

  ‘Pompey will agree to meet me in Rome. His conditions are troubling. In fact, under normal circumstances I would consider them insulting and unacceptable, but the arrival of Domitius Ahenobarbus on the scene, and the defection of Labienus, mean I might have to consider this.’

  ‘What are his conditions, General?’ Curio asked, leaning forward.

  ‘He requires that I come to Rome without a military presence. A small bodyguard of lictors appropriate to my former position as a proconsul at most.’

  There was an explosive snarl of disbelief around the room.

  ‘He cannot believe you will walk into a trap so easily, General,’ Salvius Cursor barked.

  ‘He believes just that, and more. He requires that all my forces retire back across the border of Cisalpine Gaul and out of senatorial lands before he will speak to me. The army would need to return once more to Ravenna.’

  ‘Caesar,’ Pollio said, rising from his seat, ‘that would mean giving up everything we’ve gained. Ariminium. Ancona. Frightening the senate and the consuls out of Rome. ‘

  ‘But while Pompey is a killer and a shrewd politician,’ Caesar retorted, ‘he has never, to my knowledge, reneged on a promise or broken his word. If he gives me his oath that I will remain unharmed when I come to Rome, I have no reason to suspect he will do me harm. The forces gathering against us are starting to become serious, gentlemen. When it was just Pompey with a few green legions in Italia, I planned to put him down quickly and secure peace in Rome. It would be a simple, incisive action and within a single campaigning season we would have everything we sought. We had ten veteran legions to Pompey’s nine, and seven of those are trapped in Hispania. But now he raises men swiftly. There are at least five legions in Italia against us, two of them veterans, and even when the Vienna forces join us we will still only have four. And with Ahenobarbus and Labienus taking the field for him with my own cavalry… things are starting to look considerably less certain for us. I am seriously considering taking Pompey up on his offer.’

  ‘You cannot do it,’ Salvius Cursor spat, forgetting even title or honorific for his commander in his anger. ‘You might trust Pompey, General, but you are in the minority. I served the man years ago and I know him for the devious snake he is. He will set you a trap and you will walk blindly into it. Mark my words, Caesar, you will be dead within an hour of passing the first milestone on the Via Flaminia.’

  Curio shook his head. ‘There is too much at stake for Pompey to take so bold an action. It might turn the senate against him.’

  ‘The senate would drink his piss if he asked them,’ snapped Salvius Cursor. ‘No one opposes Pompey but us. Do you not see that? I was once Pompey’s man. I do not serve Caesar out of some ancient loyalty like most of you, or because I am his client or owe him in some way. I came voluntarily. I signed on with Caesar’s command because he opposes Pompey. Because he is the only man in the whole republic who can both see what Pompey is, and is capable of doing something about it. If we treat with Pompey and Caesar does not emerge in control, then Caesar will either die there and then, or he will fade away to obscurity and Pompey will be left as the only power in the republic. A despot. A king like Tarquin the Proud.’

  Salvius Cursor turned on the whole room, throwing out his arms imploringly. ‘Did we not form the republic just to avoid such a thing? Did we not eject the kings from Rome? And now the senate would hand over their authority to Pompey and he would sit on a gilded throne and rule. No. I did not sign on for this. Caesar is the saviour of the republic. That is why I am with him. And that is why I counsel defiance whatever the cost.’

  ‘But Labienus…’ began Pollio.

  ‘Screw Labienus. Piss on him. Piss on him and any man who turns his back on Caesar and on the republic for which he stands. Piss on any man who goes to shelter in Pompey’s fat shadow. I personally will drive my blade through his black heart the first moment I ever get the opportunity, and I will do the same for any man who stands in my way, be he barbarian or Roman. And if any of you are so timid that you cannot stand proud and defiant, then run to Pompey now and prepare yourself, because I for one will come for you with my blade naked.’

  Silence filled the room, a sense of shock settling across the officers. Fronto frowned as he peered at the shaking form of Tribune Salvius Cursor. In some ways, Fronto felt emboldened just by his presence. The man was right, at the core of the matter. He was seeing everything in a fairly simplistic manner, but it was a seductive idea, and Fronto could see it at work among his peers.

  Salvius Cursor, he decided, was a zealot. And zealots could be both powerful and dangerous.

  ‘I agree with Salvius,’ he said finally. ‘Caesar, the tribune might have been a little too forthright in his harangue, and I think there are subtleties that he has glossed over, but he is right in one thing: no good will come of you walking into Rome to meet Pompey. The man has invited you for one thing only – legitimacy. There are still those in Rome who oppose him, as we see in Roscius. By doing what he proposes, Pompey gets to look as though he has given you every opportunity to make peace. He will present you with impossible conditions, and you will have to leave again. And then those few nobles and senators who still back you will believe that you are unrepentant and bent on the destruction of their world. Pompey is being cunning, and while it will damage your reputation to refuse his offer, it will be nothing compared to refusing him face to face.’

  The room fell silent again, but the officers were all nodding. Caesar sighed and rose.

  ‘On balance, I can see the futility in any meeting. We must instead move on. But if we are to face greater odds in the coming days, we need to reduce their forces as fast as possible. We will therefore move on Domitius Ahenobarbus at first light. See to your commands and have a courier sent to me. I need to distribute a few letters.’

  The officers, summarily dismissed, rose and began to filter from the room. Fronto and Galronus, tucked away to one side, were the last to leave, filing from the chamber as Caesar’s secretary entered to take dictation. As Fronto emerged into the dark corridor, fingers closed on his upper arm. He turned sharply, ready to lash out, only to find Salvius Cursor standing in the passage, his glassy eyes fixed on Fronto.

  ‘I am grateful for your support in the meeting Marcus Falerius Fronto, even though yo
u made veiled snide comments about my oration. And I will march alongside you and fight alongside you across the breadth of the republic in the name of Caesar.’

  Fronto pulled his arm free of the man’s oddly icy grip.

  ‘But,’ Salvius went on, ‘I know your history, Fronto. I know you for a man who has turned your back on Caesar more than once, and denounced him. I know that even though you came crawling back when you needed something, you once sought out Pompey’s patronage and that you count some of Caesar’s opponents among your friends. I will accept for now that you serve the general, but bear in mind that whatever I do in this campaign, I do not trust you any more than I do Labienus, and I will ever have one eye on you. The day you turn on Caesar, expect to meet the point of my blade swiftly and surely. Do you understand me.’

  Fronto snarled. ‘Don’t think to lecture me, you madman. I can see the lunacy in your eyes. And you are a turncoat yourself with a Pompeian history. You have no idea. You’ll be watching me? I don’t trust your judgement or your temper, and I’ll be watching you too.’

  Salvius Cursor grabbed his arm once more, and Fronto raised a fist threateningly. There was a moment of almost unbearable tension, and suddenly Galronus pulled Fronto’s arm out of Salvius’ grasp, hauling him back. ‘Come on Marcus. Have a cup of wine and settle down.’

  ‘Oh yes. Wine,’ snapped Salvius Cursor. ‘I’ve heard about your wine-soaked history too. And your sot of a father. Go climb into an amphora with your Remi friend, but watch him closely too. His friends are now riding south with Labienus. As trustworthy as you, Fronto.’

  For a brief moment, Galronus looked like he would react, but the Remi prince quickly got hold of himself and pulled Fronto away. ‘Come on. Leave the little runt.’

  * * *

  Their path into Italia read like a catalogue of fortresses.

  Ariminium had been first. Then Pisaurum and Fanum had opened their gates as they marched the coast road to find Ancona awaiting them with a warm welcome. Flowers and cheering at Potentia and Cupra. Then, finally, the end of the shoreline as the legion turned inland, heading up the wide valley to Asculum, where they would turn south once more and march on Ahenobarbus’ fortified position at Corfinium. En route, each town capitulated with ease, though tellingly many had been garrisoned by Pompey’s officers and those men had fled ahead of Caesar’s advance, taking their men with them to support Ahenobarbus or Pompey.

  Asculum had boosted the morale of the whole army, for it had provided the first good news in weeks, in the form of reinforcements. Marcus Antonius had re-joined the army with his five cohorts and on his travels south he had connected with the Twelfth Legion who were moving at a forced march to join the general. Their presence more than doubled the manpower of Caesar’s army, and granted everyone a breath of relief, almost as much as the news that the other two legions, the Eighth and Fifth, were only days behind, having had to detour to secure extra provisions.

  Februarius arrived, bringing warmer but wetter weather. When the army finally emerged from the narrow valley to see Corfinium three miles away on its spur of land, dominating the valley and guarding the plateau of farmland beyond, Caesar’s army numbered almost ten thousand, with another ten less than half a week away. Fronto tried not to think too hard on the fact that the walls ahead sheltered half as many men again as marched along the valley behind him, even without any extras they had received from the garrisons fleeing south.

  Caesar gestured to a low rise ahead to their left and the entire officer corps, along with Ingenuus and his riders, peeled off from the vanguard of the column and made for the hill while the army continued along the valley behind. Reaching the summit, Caesar reined in.

  ‘It’s going to be trouble, Caesar,’ Pollio noted.

  Corfinium had strong walls and was shaped like an elongated diamond along a ridge at the edge of a plateau formed by a ‘V’ of valleys. Well-fortified by both man and nature, it clearly had the space to hold Domitius Ahenobarbus’ legions. And given what the scouts had said about the ample farmland on the plateau beyond, likely their supply situation was very healthy.

  ‘I wonder what their artillery capability is?’ Caesar mused.

  ‘Why, General?’ asked one of the tribunes.

  ‘Because we’re going to have to take the legions past the town, down this valley and then bring them back up onto the plateau. I wonder which side of the river would be more useful…’

  Caesar’s words tailed off as he frowned.

  ‘Look, gentlemen. Down at the bridge!’

  Perhaps half a mile from the hilltop the main valley road passed across a wide, solid bridge on its approach to Corfinium. Even as they watched, soldiers in chain armour burst from the undergrowth and swarmed the bridge, battering at it and pulling at the stones.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Fronto breathed. ‘There must be half a legion there.’

  ‘If they take down that bridge it’ll cause havoc for our supplies and artillery wagons,’ Salvius noted. ‘Your permission, Caesar?’

  ‘Deal with them,’ the general replied and, as Salvius raced off to his men, the officers sat astride their horses and watched the legionaries of Domitius Ahenobarbus trying to buy extra time by destroying the only wagon approach to the city. Moments later there were buccina calls back among the men and the lead elements of the Thirteenth broke into a run, armour clattering and jingling as they plunged on down the valley. Fronto’s fingers went white as his grip on his reins tightened. Galronus leaned closer and patted his arm. ‘Not your fight Marcus. Our time will come. Let the attack dog have his moment with a bridge.’

  Fronto watched, tense, as the men of the Thirteenth ran at the bridge. Ahenobarbus’ men were still green recruits, with a few quiet garrison troops among them, the only true veterans being the officers and a few soldiers and engineers amid the levies. An engineer down there spoke to an officer and half the men formed up in a shield wall before of the bridge, while the others continued to tear and hack at it.

  ‘Got to give them credit for trying,’ Pollio said quietly.

  ‘They need to buy time,’ Marcus Antonius said. ‘Ahenobarbus is in a strong position, but knowing that he faces us he will be expecting Pompey to march to his aid. He will hold out for that day and so every hour bought counts.’

  The lead elements of the Thirteenth hit the raw recruits at the bridge like a bull to a rotten gate. Even Fronto was surprised at the effect. The charging legionaries formed into a wedge at the last moment and as they hit the shieldwall they burst through it with ease, carving their way across the bridge in a bloody swathe. The enemy’s initial stand hopelessly beaten, the attacking force began to break up into centuries, some pressing the two groups of legionaries who had so recently been a solid wall of shields, until they broke with panic and fled into the undergrowth and across the river, many dying before they could even leave pilum reach. Other centuries of the Thirteenth went to work on the men at the bridge, removing them with bloody ease and securing access for Caesar’s army. Many of the new legionaries broke and fled quickly, while the veteran centurions fought on to the last man, holding their positions and dying on the bridge.

  Fronto closed his eyes. He’d thought such days gone when the war against Sertorius ended, but it seemed there would be no end to the killing of Roman by Roman.

  It was over swiftly and the victorious Thirteenth rather ignominiously tipped the bodies of the dead from the bridge into the torrent below. Even as the bloody clean up went on at the bridge and the rest of the army closed, Tribune Salvius Cursor came galloping up the hill once more. He had a cut above his eye and was liberally drenched with blood.

  ‘If the defenders of Corfinium are of similar mettle, Caesar, this siege should not be too troublesome.’

  Caesar turned a sour face on Salvius. ‘Have some respect, man. Those are young Romans you’re talking about. Some of them will have been involved in making pots you’ve eaten from, or wine you’ve drunk. Some might have fathers in Rome who have sought y
our family’s patronage. We do what we must, but never let it be said that I took pleasure in robbing Rome of her sons.’

  Salvius seemed unabashed, shrugging and causing droplets of blood to fly.

  ‘They are the enemy, General. Roman they might be, but they chose to follow the enemy. I did not force them to do so, and so I will not shed a tear for a single corpse that no longer stands in our way.’

  The general and his tribune stared at one another for a moment in silence, locked in some unseen battle of wills and it felt to Fronto as though he and the others were intruding on a very private moment. Finally Caesar nodded. ‘Clean yourself up and look to your legion, Salvius. Once we pass Corfinium, we cannot be certain what we will find on the plateau.

  ‘Uh oh,’ Brutus muttered. ‘What’s this?’

  They turned to follow his pointing finger. A party of riders was approaching along the valley on this side of the river.

  ‘Deputation from Corfinium?’ Antonius mused.

  ‘Unlikely. They would come from the other side, across the bridge.’

  They watched silently as the riders closed. A dozen men, all civilians by the look of it, and of varying ages. Despite the fact that they presented no obvious threat, Caesar’s bodyguards spread out across the hilltop protectively, and Ingenuus took up a position ahead and to one side of the general.

  ‘Don’t you wish you had your bodyguard with you,’ Galronus murmured and Fronto turned to find a smile on his friend’s face. Truth be told, he did miss Masgava and Aurelius and Arcadios. He would have liked nothing more than to have them with him. But they served a better purpose in the current circumstances guarding the villa at Tarraco and looking after Lucilia and the family. He tried not to think about how, despite moving them as far from Caesar and the war as he could, he had placed them inadvertently between Pompey’s provincial army and the three legions of Caesar’s at Narbo.