Fronto glanced over his shoulder.
The field was full of men and metal. Six legions, even depleted as they were, numbered over twenty thousand and, with the Auxilia among them, they more than doubled that. Thousands of cavalry sat on the wings neighing and prancing expectantly. Archers and slingers filled the rear of the force. Each legion had its own commanders present in all their glory. In all, the formation as a display of military might was a great deal more impressive that the carefully organised hilltop formation at Bibracte.
On the right flank, Caesar sat astride his white charger, the red cloak picking him out as an obvious target. Whatever Fronto might have to say about the General from time to time, the man was certainly not short of courage. A well-placed arrow could soon cut short his career in Gaul once they started moving forward. Beside Caesar sat Ingenuus, proud on his dappled grey, red cloak flapping in the breeze. Divitiacus, the most senior of the Aedui present, sat in his traditional armour on the other side of the General.
On the far left, Crassus sat on his brown and white, looking pompous to Fronto’s eyes. In the centre Priscus was the front man of the Tenth, for Fronto and Varus were here, two hundred yards ahead of even the foremost of the army. Varus sat astride his white horse, some Gallic breed that Fronto didn’t recognise, while Fronto rode Bucephalus. He had to hand it to Longinus, this was a lovely horse. Comfortable and steady, but fearless and strong. There were a network of small scars on the horse’s shoulders and flanks; signs of the situations in which the commander and the horse had both been in trouble and both come out to tell the tale. The scar on the horse’s shoulder from the recent cavalry engagement was still fresh and livid. Fronto made a mental note to have someone look at it later.
The sun was already fairly high. Once word had reached Caesar that the massing of his troops was no longer a secret from Ariovistus, he had set back the assembly time to give the troops and officers a full night of rest. Consequently, when the legions had begun to move into position, the Germans were also already on the move.
Much as the German King obviously did not want this battle, he had been left with little choice. Knowing that the entire Roman force was in position, well supplied, and intending to march upon him, his only option had been to prepare for battle.
Fronto glanced along the German lines, not very far away at all. He was grateful that Ariovistus had chosen to make an open fight of it. The man could easily have stayed within the camp and made Caesar besiege it. Fronto knew they could guarantee a greater loss of life if that were the case.
“They’re split up into different groups. Not tribes, but thingies, like the Helvetii did. What d’you call them?”
Varus smiled. Fronto made him chuckle even when blackest vengeance was gripping him from the inside.
“Cantons.
“Bless you!”
Varus grinned as the iron grip on his heart faltered again. Fronto was a rare breed among senior commanders. He and Balbus were very similar in many ways and the effect that the two of them had on the other senior officers was noticeable. Varus could only imagine what the atmosphere among the men would be like now if Crispus, Galba and Rufus had come under the influence of Crassus from early on. Men who improved the morale of the army did it credit and Varus was determined one day to be one of those men.
“I can see seven Cantons. That means the Suevi must have joined up with them on their march.”
Fronto sighed.
“Doesn’t surprise me. If they moved as fast as the rest of the Germans did, they probably reached them before even we rejoined the army. Can you see what they’ve done at the back and the sides?”
Varus squinted into the haze.
“Are they fortifying around behind them?”
Fronto shook his head.
“They’re stopping their own men from running. That’s a good sign for us. Probably a lot of them are unhappy about being made to fight against the whim of their Gods. Ariovistus is making sure the only way they can get out is through us.”
Varus shaded his eyes.
“I think you’ll find there’s something else going on. They appear to be loading all those wagons around the back with women and children!”
Fronto stared.
“Now that’s interesting. I wonder whether they’re meant to encourage them to fight or to prevent them escaping. No one’s going to flee the field if it means cutting through your womenfolk. Interesting. I think we should be in a good position today. Our men are riled and ready for a fight. If theirs are suffering that badly with morale problems, we should be alright.”
He leaned back in the saddle.
“We should probably get back and tell Caesar now.”
Varus waved him down.
“In a moment. Look at their cavalry, heavy on either side. D’you see?”
“I see cavalry. Why?”
“There’s a weakness on the right. Look at them. They’ve concentrated around two thirds of them on the left. On the right they don’t have many foot supporting them. They could be broken easily. The other side could be a problem. I need to speak to Crassus. He’s going to have to pull in extra support on our left. Perhaps from Caesar’s cavalry, perhaps from the legions.”
Fronto shrugged.
“Either you really do know your stuff or your eyes are better than mine. Looks the same to me. Still, I’ll tell Caesar about the general situation. You tell Crassus about your cavalry, yes?”
As Varus nodded, the two of them turned their mounts and rode back toward the Roman lines.
Moments later, Caesar leaned forward in his saddle.
“Fronto. What’s the situation?”
The legate grinned.
“They look a little unwilling. Ariovistus has them surrounded by wagons and women to stop them running. They’re all drawn up in seven Cantons and the Suevi are there. The legions should be able to take them so long as the cavalry are alright on the flanks.”
Caesar smiled at him.
“Oh, I think we’ll be fine, Marcus.”
“Yes, I think you will. Varus said the cavalry element’s much lighter and weaker on this side, like maybe it’s a feint.”
Caesar frowned.
“What does he plan to do about it?”
Fronto growled.
“He doesn’t command the cavalry if you remember, sir? He plans to warn Crassus.”
The General directed a warning glance at Fronto.
“Very well. We’ll give ten minutes before calling the advance. I want Crassus and Varus to have enough time to adjust their attack.”
The two stared across the field to where Crassus and Varus sat astride their horses, facing each other and talking.”
“Varus, I am in charge of this wing and I will decide whether we’re not up to the task.”
Varus slapped his hand down hard on the saddle horn.
“Sir! If you don’t arrange to bolster our wing now, we could find ourselves very deep in the shit when we meet the enemy. You said you wanted me here for my experience, and you’re not listening to me. I know what I’m talking about!”
“We have the strongest cavalry force that’s been fielded in this entire campaign; possibly in the history of Roman warfare. We have experienced troops fighting in Roman armour and style and vast amounts of barbarian levies fighting in the same style as the Germans. We could beat them if they were ten feet tall and I will not go to one of my opposite numbers and beg for help.”
“You don’t have to beg for help, sir. Caesar knows all of this and he has the cavalry to spare. The third line of each legion is a reserve force for just such emergencies.”
“Get back to your ala, prefect.”
“If you order me there, I’ll go, but you’re going to kill a lot of people if you don’t change the plan.”
“I said: Get back to your ala!”