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He became aware of shouting behind him. Turning, he realised the tribune had brought a dozen cavalry over the slope. Of course he had. His commander had gone off on his own.

“Sir!”

Labienus turned, his face ashen, and slowly walked his horse between the fires and the bodies, back to the riders who sat waiting for him, staring at the macabre array.

“What happened here sir? The Aduatuci you think? Did they come here and do this?”

Labienus shook his head.

“What is wrong with these people? With this world?”

“Sir?” The tribune looked genuinely confused.

“No one did this to them, tribune. They did it to themselves.”

He stared at the piles again.

“Brother killing sister, father killing daughter. Must be well over a hundred thousand of them here. More…”

The tribune shook his head, his mouth open.

“Because of us?”

Labienus nodded.

“Us and stupidity. They heard they’d lost. And our reputation among the Celts is not the most savoury. They’d probably been told we would come and rape and murder them. This is defiance, after a fashion.”

The tribune frowned.

“What do we do, sir?”

Labienus wiped the trickling rain from his brow.

“We’re civilised men, tribune. What would you expect us to do?”

The man stared for a moment and then, nodding, turned to the trooper behind him.

“Get back to the column. Tell them to take an hour’s rest and have the centurions form up three centuries for burial detail. These civilians need a proper tumulus.”

The trooper saluted and turned to ride back over the crest to the army.

Labienus sighed and fished into the pocket of his breeches. His face taking on a slightly bleaker appearance still, he withdrew Paetus’ signet ring.

“What a reputation we’re building for ourselves, eh Lucius?”

With a deeper sigh, he looked down sadly at the item in his hand and dropped easily from his horse. A grim expression on his face, he strode over to the nearest pile of corpses and stared down at it.

Crouching, he located the body of a young girl and sadly, rolled her over on the pile of people; likely her family. Her throat had been cut. Possibly, looking at the jagged mess, she’d even done it herself. The blood had soaked into the bodies beneath and her face was now alabaster white.

Reaching out he stroked her hair. She would be about the same age as his own daughter. Ignoring the tear on his cheek and biting his lip, he reached for her hand unfolded the fingers, turned it palm-up and dropped Paetus’ ring into it. Smiling sadly, he gently but firmly pushed the fingers closed on the ring and patted her on the cheek.

“We’re not all monsters, girl. One day your people will realise that. If there are any of you left.”

He stood, took a deep and heavy breath, and set his teeth together. Vaulting onto his horse, he walked it back up the slope.

“Come on. We have a job to do.”

As he passed the centurions leading the burial parties back over the slope, he gritted his teeth and glared down at them.

“With respect. And no looting!”

The centurion, clearly surprised, saluted.

“Yessir!”

As Labienus rode back to the column, he finally felt a little peace descending on him. He’d not had his heart in this particular task. He’d envied those men riding off to chastise the Aduatuci, but not now. Now his purpose was really clear for the first time. Now he had a reason. He had to bring peace at whatever cost. He had to bring the Gauls and the Belgae into the fold. Not for Caesar; not even for Rome. For themselves. What happened here must never happen again.

“Never again.”

He ignored the look of surprise his apropos-of-nothing comment raised from the tribunes.

No… never again.

Chapter 19

(On the plain before the oppidum of Aduatuca)

“ Laqueus: a garrotte usually used by gladiators to restrain an opponent’s arm, but also occasionally used to cause death by strangulation.”

Crispus frowned.

“I cannot decide whether they have a very ego-centric world-view or merely no imagination.”

Fronto nodded.

“I see what you mean. The Aduatuci who live in Aduatuca.”

Crispus laughed.

“No… they have no name for their town. I am informed by our Remi friends that they just call it ‘home’. Aduatuca is a name others have given to it, for ease of description.”

Fronto frowned.

“So they believe themselves to be the centre of the world? That’s a little big-headed isn’t it?”

Another light laugh from Crispus.

“Whereas our ‘Mare Nostrum’ shows no such weakness in character, eh?”

Fronto frowned blankly at him and then gave up, shrugged, and turned back to examine the oppidum they had travelled so many days to find.

Aduatuca, as the Belgae had named it, was a plateau with only one truly accessible side. The town stood atop cliffs and rocks that were jagged and uneven, and would make most siege techniques difficult. The remaining option would be to march directly up the one shallow slope, which was perhaps a hundred yards across, and assault the impressively-constructed double walls, crowned with piles of heavy stones with which to crush any attackers, and surrounded by sharpened stakes jutting from the ground and the walls like a bristling and deadly beard.

The legions had been hot on the trail of the Aduatuci ever since they’d left the Selle River and marched east but, no matter that the Romans had stripped out the slowest part of the army and travelled only with fast and healthy troops, the Aduatuci had simply travelled like the wind, managing to easily stay ahead of Caesar and almost taunting him. And now the Roman army assembled in units on the plain in sight of the oppidum but out of range.

Fronto sighed.

“Ah well. Best go see what the general has in mind.”

Crispus nodded and the two legates strode off to join the staff, who were gathering at the front with their commander. Caesar was rubbing his temples irritably.

“Alright, gentlemen. It’s quite simple. I may have underestimated the time to get here and deal with the enemy and so we need to deal with this fast. I want to be at Nemetocenna by the kalends of September for the meeting of the tribes.”

Sabinus shook his head.

“Sir, rushing these things is asking for trouble. Every time we’ve rushed a siege so far we’ve failed and taken heavy losses. Labienus can argue your position, especially with the diplomats you sent. You need to concentrate on this. Take Aduatuca with as few risks and losses as possible.”

Fronto nodded. “The legions are severely depleted.”

Behind him he heard the familiar nasal whine that announced Plancus was winding himself up to say something stupid.

“They’re right, sir. Think of how expensive it will already be to restore the manpower of the legions. It will cost a fortune, sir.”

Fronto frowned. To think of the men of the legions in terms of a mere commodity irritated him on both professional and personal levels. But the man had added to their point and any angle that might make Caesar careful should be attacked. The general frowned.

“So what do you all suggest? Talk to me.”

Fronto cleared his throat.

“Can’t assault that slope. Remember Noviodunum? I’ll bet Plancus does. We could take the gates, but it would cost us a quarter of the army doing it, and that’s too high a price to pay.”

“So you expect our men to climb the cliffs, Fronto?”

The legate shrugged.

“I’m just warning you off a really dangerous attack. What you need is Tetricus. He’ll have ideas.”

“Then get him.” Caesar continued to rub his temple, wincing.

As Fronto turned and strode back to the ranks of the Tenth, he pondered on his patron. The more time he spent with Caesar, the less he liked him. The man had always had his vicious side, certainly, which had shown on several occasions during the Spanish campaign, but he seemed to be getting worse. Indeed, his mood, his health and his judgment all seemed to have declined over the last year or more.