“It never fails to amaze me how engineers can construct such behemoths and make them mobile and flexible” Crispus wondered, staring at the massive construction.
Fronto shrugged and then stared at his dead arm for a moment. Recently, when he shrugged, he wasn’t sure, but he got the impression there was a small amount of movement in the muscles. Hard to tell.
“Practice, I guess.”
“Sorry?”
“Well,” said Fronto frowning, “a soldier gets better with a sword by repeatedly hitting things with it and working out new and inventive ways to use it when he can’t be doing it for real. A general gets better by studying other successes and failures when he’s not actually involved in campaign and battle. And I’ve watched the engineers. They build things at every given opportunity, whether it’s needed or not and, when they can’t build things, they sit deep in thought and plan and invent things.”
A commotion in the distance caught their attention, shouts from the walls of the oppidum. Ignoring what appeared to be jeering from the Aduatuci, Tetricus raised his hand and dropped it as a signal. A cornicen relayed the orders and the three hundred men took up the two ropes and leaned into the task. A second call, and the men began, slowly and with a great deal of grunting and sweating, to inch forward, heaving on the ropes.
For almost a minute, it looked like something had gone wrong. The huge bulk shuddered and groaned, but remained steadfastly grounded. The tiny movement among the legionaries that Fronto had noted was merely any give in the ropes and knots being taken up.
“It’s too big. They should have tried building it already upright” Fronto grumbled, shaking his head.
Crispus smiled.
“They can’t do it that way. Look!”
As Fronto watched, his breath held, he noticed the tiniest lift along the immense carcass of the tower. The far end came up by a foot, and then two. More and more and, the further it rose from the ground, the easier it became, moving faster and faster. Fronto watched with fascination as Tetricus and two of his engineers continually darted around the scene like flies around a horse’s tail, making minor adjustments; slowing down one rope and then the other, issuing orders to the other engineering details to move a chock from beneath the corner. Gradually, as it lifted, it was manoeuvred carefully forward so that it rose square onto the wheeled platform.
Another call went up from a cornicen, and two more centuries of men marched from the gate and approached the rear of the tower, now straining at an impressive forty five degrees.
“Hell, I’m glad that’s not my job” breathed Fronto as he watched the men pass under the looming bulk and grasp two more ropes that had been attached to the back.
Crispus nodded.
“Absolutely. Though without them, the tower would likely continue with its momentum, past the apex, and tip over onto the legionaries.”
Fronto nodded and tried not to think what it would be like being one of those men at the back, with several tons of wood towering over you, only held up by your friends that you couldn’t see on the other side of the structure. He swallowed.
“Sounds like the Aduatuci are enjoying the show.”
Crispus laughed.
“They’ve probably never seen anything like it. They do construct their own ramparts and palisades, and they likely understand everything we’ve done so far, but this tower…”
He drew a deep breath as the tower reached its apex and wobbled perilously forward toward the men before settling with the men at the rear taking the strain on their own ropes.
“This tower is bigger than anything even we have used in war since at least the defeat of Hannibal. It has to be impressing them, and almost certainly confusing them too.”
Fronto nodded. Not far away, Galronus of the Remi stood with his own officers. They seemed to be paying more attention to the oppidum than to the activity of the engineers.
“Come with me” Fronto nudged Crispus and the pair walked across to where the Belgic auxiliary officer stood. The man had a curious expression on his face; a mix of suspicion and humour.
“Galronus. Finding Tetricus’ tower funny?”
The man, straight-backed and taller than Fronto and Crispus by a head, turned to look at them and harrumphed.
“I do not like this. Aduatuci too smug.”
Fronto laughed.
“Your Latin is improving all the time. Why smug?”
The nobleman gestured to the oppidum and, squinting, Fronto followed his finger. The walls atop the great rock were lined with Aduatuci, and not just warriors, but women and children too, all making a great noise and gesturing.
“Aduatuci are clever” Galronus stated flatly. “They know what tower is for. They know they trapped and outnumbered. So why they make fun of you.”
“Make fun?” Fronto stared.
“They ask how such small men push such a big thing and they laugh.”
Fronto grumbled.
“They’re entitled to their fun, I suppose. Bravery in the face of certain defeat is hardly unknown, and you Belgae are, if nothing else, a brave people.”
Galronus nodded.
“Brave, true, but this stupid.”
He turned suddenly and grasped Fronto by the upper arms.
“Do not trust Aduatuci. Something wrong.”
Fronto stared at Galronus, but his mind was whirling and he barely heard what the man had said to him. Instinctively as the man grasped his arms, Fronto had flinched; with both arms! His left arm had twitched. He stared down at the limb as the nobleman let go and he tried to move it. It hurt like hell and felt like trying to lift an ox with his finger, but there was definite movement.
His arm was alive. Damn it all, his arm was healing!
He grinned, first at Galronus, then at Crispus, and then back at the auxiliary officer again. Laughing, he slapped the man on the shoulder and grinned.
“Thank you, Galronus. Thank you very, very much!”
The man stared at him as though the legate had gone mad and he opened his mouth to speak, but Fronto shook his head.
“If they’re up to something we have to pre-empt them.”
He grasped Crispus and marched with him back towards the command party, where Caesar stood, flanked by Sabinus and Varus on the walkway near the gate.
“What’s happening?” Crispus asked as he rushed alongside his peer across the causeway and in through the gate. A short climb up the boarded steps and they reached the parapet of the rampart. Sabinus turned with a smile.
“What’s got you so animated, Fronto?”
As the general and several of his staff officers turned to look at the two legates, Fronto pointed with his good arm, pausing only a second to twitch his left, at the oppidum.
“The Aduatuci are up to something. We’ve been speaking to Galronus and he’s convinced of it. They’re up there laughing at us while we work on the engines of their destruction. They’re trapped and as good as dead, but they’re in high spirits. Whatever they’re planning we need to pre-empt it.”
“And what do you suggest, Fronto?”
“They’re laughing at us because they have a plan. We’ve already dealt with one almighty balls-up in this campaign because we underestimated them. Let’s not do it again. Get the legions back from across the river. Have the plates and bridge attached to the tower as fast as they can be. Tetricus said it would all be ready to go by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll bet if we pushed him, he could have it ready in the morning.”
Caesar stared at him.
“Fronto, you are the man who keeps telling me to listen to the engineers and to slow down and not throw troops away. And now you want me to launch a massive barely-prepared attack ahead of schedule? Is this one of your ‘bad feelings’ again?”
Fronto glared at him.
“Don’t make me sound like a superstitious lunatic, general. This is logical. Sensible even. Galronus knows these people better than all of us. He thinks they’re up to something, and I think he’s right. Hell, if there were plates on that tower, I’d launch the attack right now.”