He let go of his commander and turned the horse.
“Men of the Ninth!”
Amid the slaughter, cavalrymen looked up at the prefect, blood still running from the tips of their swords and daggers.
“Form on the hill!”
He turned once more to face Crassus.
“My men will have nothing to do with this and neither shall I. I’ll see you in the camp. This isn’t over.”
Leaving a stunned commander sitting amid a field of bodies, Varus joined his men on the hill and began the ride back to camp.
Chapter 23
(Epilogue)
“ Corona: wreath or crown awarded as military decoration.”
“ Phalerae: (sing. Phalera) set of discs attached to a torso harness used as military decorations.”
Fronto glanced around the room happily before his attention returned to the table. Last time the legions had been in Vesontio, he’d had been in the middle of nowhere with one mounted cohort and had missed the place entirely. Priscus had told him it wasn’t up to much, but had pointed out a bar that he said was quite reasonable halfway up the main street. And so he was now here. He’d left messages with several people in the huge camp at the bottom of the hill to say where he would be if anyone wished to join him and had been most surprised when he actually found the place and strode in through the door to find Balbus and Crispus already seated close to a window. Fronto sighed contentedly as he dropped into the seat. He was able to hobble for short distances, but soon began to sway and topple if there was no one there to give him support.
Crispus stirred and put down his drink.
“The proprietor doesn’t serve at tables, so I should be delighted to procure a drink for you, Marcus.”
Fronto smiled and reached out a restraining hand to stop the young legate from standing.
“He’ll serve me, lad, don’t you worry.”
Reaching down to his side, Fronto retrieved a leather purse and held it over the table. He upended the container and a large quantity of coinage dropped out, much of it in silver and some of it in gold. The ringing of coin on coin had certainly attracted the attention of the barman. Fronto smiled up in his direction.
“I’ll have what these two are drinking. All drinks served to a Roman while I’m here go on my bill and you can take it in silver and gold, with a little extra if you’ll serve at tables. Ok?”
The barman nodded eagerly.
“Oh yes sir. I’ll ‘elp you s’much as I can.”
Fronto looked over at Crispus.
“What are you drinking anyway?”
Crispus smiled.
“It’s a local brew. A little potent, but nicely tart and with a pleasing aftertaste. I rather favour it.”
Balbus snorted as he took a swig.
“Youth of today.”
Fronto grinned.
“You never cease to amaze me, Aulus. I take it you know about the award?”
Crispus nodded with a certain ambivalence.
“I cannot see how I particularly deserve it. I performed my duty to the same degree as everyone else. To be honoured above others such as the two of you makes me a trifle uneasy.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re still new to this game and already pulled a few manoeuvres that’ve got you a bit of a reputation. Be proud of that. Balbus and I already have awards from past campaigns. You’ve an empty harness. Time you got that corona. You did save the army after all.”
Crispus shook his head.
“Yes but what about all you’ve both done for this army?”
Balbus smiled at him.
“Don’t kid yourself, Aulus. Caesar dangled awards in front of Marcus here, but he’s refused them.”
“Refused? Why?”
Fronto shrugged.
“I’d rather they go to the men below me. They need them more. For me to be decorated above others more deserving isn’t the sort of thing I do.”
Crispus nodded.
“For certain. I’ve have heard tell that both Velius and Priscus will receive phalera. Tetricus also, I believe.”
Fronto sighed.
“I’ve had the full list reeled off to me. I was one of the four who went through them with Caesar deciding on who was worthy of reward. Those three indeed, and you. Balventius is lined up for phalera, as are Ingenuus, Baculus of the Twelfth and your own primus pilus, Felix whatever-his-name-is.”
“Felix? Good. He assuredly deserves it. I have the niggling feeling at times that he tries to protect me. It can be a touch unnerving. For when is the ceremony planned, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Fronto shrugged once more.
“Some time tomorrow. Can’t remember exactly. We’ll only be here a couple of days now and then it’ll be time for us all to piss off back to our families for a while.”
“I…”
Crispus’ voice trailed off and he stood suddenly and smartly at attention. Balbus hauled himself slowly to his feet and nodded respectfully. Fronto craned his head and slumped slightly further down. The door stood wide open in the warm late summer air and the General had entered unannounced. As he walked towards the table, Caesar gestured at the table for them to sit. He smiled sympathetically at Fronto.
“Is the heel still causing you trouble, Marcus? I thought you’d be sprinting by now.”
Fronto grunted and then turned his head again.
“Apologies, General. Please take a seat. The drinks are free at the moment and I suspect he’s got wine if he looks hard enough.”
Caesar squared his shoulders and then unfastened his red cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on a bench near the fireplace. Behind him, three men entered and made their way over. Sabinus and Labienus were no surprise, but the inclusion of Varus in the General’s entourage caused raised eyebrows around the table. Balbus was first to stand.
“Gentlemen. Please join us. I must say that I’m surprised to find you all frequenting a place like this.”
Sabinus laughed.
“Follow Fronto and you’ll always end up in one of the best local drinking pits; this I’ve learned over the last half a year! As it happens, Caesar wanted to speak to you, so I just looked for your primus pilus. He always knows where you are. What’s all the cash on the table?”
Fronto shoved the coins into a neater pile.
“It’s our drinking funds. Should cover us all for however long we want to drink.”
He drew their attention to the barman who was standing helpfully and expectantly next to the table, waiting for orders. He was slightly pale, since he knew who the tall man with the receding hairline and the prominent nose had to be, Fronto guessed. As Sabinus ordered the drinks for the newcomers, Caesar took a seat and gestured for the others to do so.
“Marcus, I’ve deliberated further on awards and I’ve a couple of thoughts. One of them’s really just a confirmation, but for the other I want your opinion and that of Varus.”
Fronto nodded and glanced at Varus, who just looked tired.
“Go on…”
“Well the second matter is that of young Ingenuus. I expect everyone is aware by now that I probably owe my life to his quick thinking and his selfless bravery.”
There were nods all round. The young prefect had been the subject of a great deal of conversation after the battle. Saving Caesar’s life, capturing a daughter of their enemy and rescuing Procillus, the young man had earned praise and respect from a great many sources. Fronto had wondered really whether even two phalerae were a gracious enough demonstration, when the lad probably deserved a corona. He looked up as Caesar continued.
“Varus, you’re a long-serving cavalry officer and a commander of note. I have it on good authority that Longinus favoured you a great deal and his opinion of cavalry always swayed me. What is your opinion of the prefect?”
Varus stretched and took a swig of his drink.
“General, the lad’s got the makings of a great commander. Possibly one of the best. I think another year of command in that position will be the telling point though. He has a tendency to leap into the fray both feet first and get himself into trouble and he’s very lucky he hasn’t fallen foul of his own bravery yet. Basically, I think the wound he received was unfortunate. He’ll never effectively wield a sword again in the saddle unless he has it strapped to his hand.”