Basilus floundered, trying to understand what was going on, while a bruised lump began to form on his forehead. He found himself weakly announcing ‘Lucius Minucius Basilus, vexillatory cavalry commander, ravaging the Eburones on the general’s direct orders.’ He realised he was saluting like a junior tribune and almost stammering, and yanked his arm back to his side. ‘And you are?’
‘Marcus Falerius Fronto, former legate of the Tenth Legion, staff officer, commander of a small insurgent force, hunter of Ambiorix, and — most importantly — bloody furious!’
‘Sir?’ Basilus realised he was shaking, but couldn’t stop it.
‘What’s all this about, Galronus?’ Fronto asked, looking straight past Basilus.
The Belgic officer who’d been so insolent stepped past Basilus, eyeing him as though he were something the man had trodden in and would shortly wipe off his boot.
‘What he said. But he was told to steer clear of towns. Seems he is as tactically foolish as he is cruel and stupid.’
Basilus felt his ire rise, but he was still shaking with some unidentifiable fear. Fronto. He remembered hearing stories of the legate of the Tenth. A man who was usually to be found standing in the line with his men rather than at the back, directing things. A man who’d insulted Caesar and got away with it. A man who fought duels with assassins. Basilus suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to urinate.
‘Well, Lucius Minucius Basilus, commander of whatever-you-said, have you any idea what you just did?’
‘Put the fear of the Gods into the Eburones?’ he said, weakly, it coming out more as a question than the proud statement he’d intended.
‘No, no, no,’ Fronto said, his brow lowering as he wagged the forefinger of his free hand in admonishment. ‘No, Basilus. What you have just done is ruined a month of my work, disrupted my hunt, laid waste to a settlement that was about to declare loyalty to Caesar and, prize of all your blunders this morning, spooked the traitor king Ambiorix into flight!’
Basilus felt panic set in and his stomach churned unpleasantly. He urinated a little.
‘Sir?’
‘Ambiorix was here. In my sights. In a matter of hours he would have been in my hands and spilling every secret he knew about rebellions in Gaul, while his brother king helped bring the Eburones back into the arms of Rome as an ally. Instead, you and your men blundered in from the forest and Ambiorix turned tail and fled, or so Ullio tells me.’
‘Ullio?’
‘The Eburone who has played host to my men and I in our sojourn here.’ Fronto thumbed a gesture towards a furious local, who was fiddling with the point of a wicked-looking knife. ‘Ullio could possibly track the villain, though he might be disinclined to try, given what YOU HAVE JUST DONE TO HIS KINSMEN!’ The spray of spittle that accompanied this last hoarse shout spattered across Basilus’ face and his bladder finally gave in and let go.
Fronto rolled his eyes and pushed the man aside.
‘Galronus, you’re now in charge of this debacle. Try and rein the men in and halt the madness. Take this piddling little moron with you and try and keep him out of trouble. I’m going to see Cativolcus and find out if there’s any way we can salvage anything from this.’
‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Palmatus said quietly, emerging from the king’s house and shaking his head. ‘The king’s bodyguard are all dead and he appears to have taken the yew-poison meant for Ambiorix.’
Fronto reached up and cradled his forehead in his free hand.
‘Today just gets better and better.’ He gestured at Basilus with his sword. ‘Get out of my sight and do whatever Galronus tells you. If I see you again today, I might just gut you myself.’
He turned to Ullio as Galronus led the disconsolate, leaking commander away.
‘I cannot adequately express my regret for what happened here, Ullio. Hopefully we can halt the damage before it becomes absolute. I would like to lay the blame at Basilus’ feet, but for all his lunacy, he was acting on the general’s orders, and Caesar is unaware of what we know. I suspect the only hope for your tribe’s peace just evaporated.’
Ullio nodded. ‘There is now one undisputed king of the Eburones, and while many might not approve of him, while he has druids on his side, no one is going to challenge him. Perhaps if he were to meet his end, one of my lord Cativolcus’ kin would step in to rule us.’
‘I know I have no right to ask this of you, Ullio, especially after what just happened, but is there any way I can persuade you to helping us track Ambiorix down?’
The hunter sagged. ‘Ask me again later, after we have attended to the dead and the wounded and I have had my fill of beer. And,’ he cast an evil look at the retreating form of Basilus, ‘after I have looked for my sister-son and learned whether he and his family are alive.’
‘Would you like help?’
Ullio shook his head and turned, walking away down the street. Over the top of the chaos, the sound of Galronus’ call to muster outside the walls rang from a dozen horns.
‘Disaster,’ muttered Fronto.
‘So close,’ added Masgava. ‘We should get going and see if we can pick up his trail.’
Fronto shook his head and rubbed his thumping temple. ‘We stand virtually no chance in these woods. Our best hope is that Ullio will help us. He knows these lands like no other, but he must have today to recover and mourn before we consider trying to follow.’
‘What will happen to Basilus,’ asked Palmatus quietly.
Fronto felt the thumping head worsen. ‘Knowing Caesar, he’ll probably get a bloody decoration!’
Behind him, Aurelius peered off into the forest with a mixture of resignation and fear and made the signs to ward off evil.
* * * * *
Caesar rubbed tired eyes, sagging in his campaign chair as the officers assembled on the low grassy bank beside the Rhenus. The past few days had not been good for the general. Half a week it had taken to bridge the great river — a speed and efficiency that had stunned even those who achieved it. The bridge was every bit as strong and wide and powerful as the one they had both built and dismantled upriver a few years ago, and this one was planned to stay, at least until the season ended.
As soon as the bridge was complete, Caesar had marched across it with his officers and the Tenth Legion’s First Cohort and met with the local Ubii leaders, who had gathered there, curious to ask the general why he had once more bridged their river.
The Ubii had confirmed that the Suevi had retreated into their great forest, skirmishing with the locals as they passed, likely frustrated at being cheated of battle, victory and spoils to the south. They had also assured Caesar that Ambiorix had not crossed the Rhenus anywhere in their territory or that of their allies. Caesar had drawn from them renewed oaths and the promise that if Ambiorix appeared anywhere in their lands they would send the general his head. All had seemed to be to the good, especially when that same day the advance scouts of Labienus’ army had arrived from the south, the rest of the three legions and the baggage hoving into view during the afternoon.
Then things had begun to decline.
Caesar had avowed his intent to move into the great forest of the Suevi and chastise them for thinking to invade Roman-protected lands, but the Ubii had made their own signs against evil and had warned Caesar in fearful voices not to pursue the Suevi into the great forest of Baceni.
The general had sneered at their superstitious attitude and announced that he held no fear of Gods-protected Germanic forests. If the domain of Arduenna held no fear for him, then neither would this forest. The Ubii had shaken their heads and intimated that this had nothing to do with Gods, as the Suevi believed only in blood, death, meat and what they could touch and see. The Baceni forest, they said, was a place haunted by evil things and even the Ubii who lived within its shadow would not go beneath its canopy willingly.