The man grinned and withdrew a small scroll from his tunic.
“Then, sir, as the senior officer here, I bring you greetings from legate Publius Licinius Crassus, quartered in the lands of Armorica.” He glanced down and read aloud.
“I am pleased to report the conquest of northwestern Gaul and the tribes known as the Veneti, the Unelli, the Osismii, the Curiosolitae, the Sesuvii, the Aulerci, and the Rhedones all now bow to the power and might of Rome.”
The centurion looked up from his note.
“Legate Crassus and the Seventh remain in situ awaiting the general’s further orders.”
Labienus blinked.
“He what?”
“He reports, sir, that…”
Labienus shook his head.
“Yes, centurion, I heard. Thank you. Go and find quarters and food for your men.”
The officer saluted, looking slightly crestfallen at the unexpectedly low-key reception, and led his men up the street toward the quartermaster’s tent close to the headquarters.
Labienus turned to Pomponius.
“One legion! The man had one legion! I can’t even picture Caesar’s face when he finds out!”
Chapter 20
(On the plain before the oppidum of Aduatuca)
“ Civitas: Latin name given to a certain class of civil settlement, often the capital of a tribal group or a former military base.”
The works of Tetricus stretched away out of sight in both directions. Caesar nodded appreciatively as he looked along the line. The ditch was more than two men deep and the rampart consequently more than two men high. Surmounted by a palisaded walkway, punctuated with gates, and peppered with lilia, it was everything a Roman defensive work should be.
“And this surrounds them?” The general asked, tapping his finger to his lip.
Tetricus nodded.
“From the River Meuse to the River Sambre is a solid line with three gates and four redoubts. We’ve got the Eighth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Thirteenth Legions and most of the support behind these.”
He turned and pointed north. “The Sambre is crossable, though with some difficulty I’m told, so we’ve run another three miles of rampart and ditch along the shore there with one gate and four redoubts, though that’s only at a height and depth of six feet. The Ninth Legion is stationed there and watching the river upstream. The Meuse is unfordable here and there’s no bridge for several miles in either direction, but I had redoubts set up there to watch just in case, manned by the Fourteenth, who crossed on rafts.”
With a nod of satisfaction, he smiled.
“Basically, general, there’s no way they can escape. We have them trapped like rats.”
Caesar nodded and turned to Fronto, Balbus and Crispus who were standing together nearby.
“Have we heard anything from them today?”
Fronto shook his head. In fact the last eighteen hours since the rampart had gone up had been disturbingly quiet. The preceding two days had been painful. The Aduatuci had proved to be a cunning and subtle adversary; and dangerous. Since the initial archery assault that had surprised them all, and the night time attack at the rampart, the security around the camp had tightened. Pickets had been set and watches kept, but the Aduatuci continually found new and fascinating ways to harass and wound Caesar’s army.
The second morning, as the legions were going through the dawn rituals of washing and breakfasting before the day’s back-breaking work, the Aduatuci had released one of their cattle pens, goaded, beaten and stabbed them into a frenzy, and then opened the gate, so that the stampede of angry and frightened beasts had run amok through the camp of the Ninth, causing massive destruction and a number of dreadful wounds.
Tetricus’ workmen had also soon learned what could be considered a ‘safe’ distance from the oppidum, as the natives tested the range of arrow, slingshot, spear and boulder from the summit.
Then the next night, while the legions kept a careful watch on the slope in case of night assaults, camped out in the open before the works, the Aduatuci had climbed down the damn cliffs, presumably on great ropes, and had circled wide outside the guard posts to sabotage the works. The next morning Tetricus had surveyed the defences and noted with dismay the immense damage wreaked by so few saboteurs.
The third day since they arrived, the Aduatuci had discovered with glee that from the highest point of their defences, arrows had enough height and power to cross the river and just strike the redoubts on the far bank of the Meuse. That discovery had led to the use of fire arrows, two minor disasters, and finally the Fourteenth Legion pulling a hundred yards further back and constructing new redoubts.
Since then, with the completion of the system of defences, things had gone very, very quiet and the silence was beginning to unnerve the men.
Fronto sighed.
“There’s been no sign of military activity. Actually no sign of life at all, sir.”
Another nod from the general, who turned to Tetricus once again.
“So what is your progress with the next stage?”
The engineer smiled.
“We’ve constructed a whole load of new vineae, which should give us enough cover to get a great number of men close to the cliffs. The frame of the tower is ready, and so are the wheels and transport system. It still has to be armour plated and fitted with the bridge and ladders and so on, but that’s less than a day’s work. I would say that by tomorrow afternoon we’ll be ready to move The morning after that, at the latest.
Caesar frowned.
“Have the enemy seen our works?”
“I couldn’t say, sir. Perhaps, if they’re very keen-eyed and observant, but we’ve not drawn attention to them and they’re behind our defences.”
The general tapped his finger to his lip.
“Is there any way we can keep the tower hidden until the last minute, or not raise it upright until then? If we can maintain the element of surprise, I’d very much like to do so.”
Tetricus shook his head.
“I’m afraid not, sir. If they don’t know what we’re up to now, then they will within the hour. There’s just nowhere on this plain that’s out of sight of that oppidum, and we need to raise the tower onto the axles now while it’s still a frame. Once we add all the plating and the rest it’ll just be too heavy to raise.”
Caesar clicked his tongue irritably.
“Oh well. If it must be, it must be. But the Belgae tend to use their time and knowledge to great effect, I’ve noticed; far more so than the Gauls. I shouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t got a number of traps waiting for us when we get there.”
Tetricus nodded. It was possible, but it would only delay the inevitable.
The bright mid-morning sun shone down on the plain as Fronto and Crispus stood on their own, watching the engineering teams hard at work. Caesar had decided that, if the Aduatuci were to see the work of the Roman army, then the work should be spectacular. As such, three cohorts of legionaries had lined up in parade formation, gleaming and bright, around the engineers and the fruit of their labour.
Behind the legions, rows of vineae, mobile wooden frames with armoured roofs, stood waiting, alongside the onagers, ready to be moved into position.
And in the centre of this display lay the tower, a heavy wooden frame one hundred and twenty feet long. A wide trench had been excavated and the base, with its axles, six great heavy wheels, and braking mechanism, had been rolled down the gentle slope into it until it was flush with the ground level. Following that, the tower itself had been brought from behind the walls, through a gateway and across the turf causeway, rolled along on thin, smooth logs until it reached the edge of the trench.
As Fronto watched, ropes were fed through rings and secured to the frame. At a call, four centuries of men strode out of the gate and past the frame to take positions on the ropes.