Fronto continued to stare. “You can be really nasty,” he told Longinus, “when you’re right.”
He sighed and lay back on the grass.
“Gaius, I’m weary and I’m worried. What the hell happens if Labienus has got Balbus and Crispus killed? We can’t hope to maintain a campaign if we lose a third of the army at one stroke.” Longinus stood and brushed the grass from his breeches.
“You know as well as I do that Labienus is a good man; a good officer and a good tactician. Unless the whole of Gaul has united to attack him, he’s out there somewhere with the Eighth and the Eleventh, pulling some kind of clever manoeuvre. And Balbus is too bright to get himself pulled into that kind of trouble without sending a messenger to the commanders.”
Fronto nodded. Longinus reached down, offering to help the injured legate to his feet.
“Anyway,” he said, looking out over the fortifications and down the hill, “I think we’re about to be given the whole story. Some of those scouts are coming in already. I think you’d better go see Caesar before you go off duty.”
Fronto nodded once more.
“You wouldn’t care to help a poor wounded soldier back down the hill, would you?”
Longinus looked at the outstretched hand and the smile on Fronto’s face. He grinned back.
“Piss off. You can walk, you lazy animal.”
The two of them sauntered down to the command unit, laughing as they went.
By the time they had reached the rest of the staff officers, the riders were dismounting, handing the reins of their steaming horses to servants.
The three scouts who had returned initially had escorted a fourth rider, who stepped forward from the group and bowed to Caesar.
“Labienus?”
Caesar stared. Fronto and Longinus started. What had happened to his men? Evidently the same thought had immediately occurred to Caesar. The general walked forward to the weary-looking man.
“Labienus, what happened to your legions?”
Fronto noticed that the three scouts had shrunk back into the edge of the circle. Labienus raised his face. What Fronto had assumed was tiredness was, in fact, anger. Labienus’ face was red.
“My army is fine sir, if a little bored. We’ve been in position at the top of the peak now for around ten hours. We watched the Helvetii break camp and march away hours ago, but we had to let them go. My orders were to launch no attack until you were there. Where were you sir?
Caesar’s eyes opened wide.
“You had the hill?”
“Of course we did. We walked up it and stopped. Not even a hint of a problem. The Helvetii never saw us; didn’t even know we were there. We’ve been waiting for the rest of the army to launch the attack. I’d still be waiting now if your scouts hadn’t come to us.”
Caesar threw the cup he was holding to the turf and ground it in with his boot. Fronto stepped back. The general was shaking violently.
“Considius was wrong. Those weren’t Gaulish standards the lunatic saw, they were legion Vexilli. How can the imbecile not know his own flags?”
The circle around the irate general was widening as the moments passed. No one dared speak for fear of directing the blast of the anger toward them.
“That’s it. No more dancing around. We’re going to go and get the corn from the Aedui ourselves and then move on fast and finish these Helvetii. The time has come to break them.”
Turning, red-faced, to Sabinus and Fronto, he shook a finger at them.
“Get me Considius. Get him now.”
Chapter 10
(The Aedui town of Bibracte)
“ Amphora (pl. Amphorae): A large pottery storage container, generally used for wine or olive oil.”
“ Oppidum: The standard Gaulish hill town of the pre-Roman period. A walled settlement, sometimes quite large.”
Fronto was surprised at the size and complexity of the Aedui Oppidum. He wasn’t the sort of man to label every non-Roman he came across ‘barbarian’ without cause, but he’d met these Aedui leaders, and had expected perhaps a collection of huts and a well. In fact, Bibracte covered the top of an entire hill, the best part of a mile across, surrounded by a wide and high wall formed of shaped stones and heavy timber. The city inside, for Fronto could think of it as nothing less than a city, was complex and large, with a patchwork of crossing streets and houses jammed together in close proximity. The city rang with the sounds of blacksmiths, market traders and the chattering public.
Fronto had stopped at a wine store and had been astonished to find high quality Roman wine from Campania on sale. He had bought an amphora of the best product and had been surprised at the price, which was at most what he would have expected to pay in Rome, and perhaps even cheaper. The storekeeper had accepted Roman coinage and had given Fronto his change in coins of the same intrinsic value as Roman ones, minted in Bibracte and showing Aedui designs. He was beginning to understand why Caesar supported these people and why the Roman government nurtured this alliance. These were no more barbarians than the people of Pompeii or Puteoli.
Sitting in a small and shady garden outside a local tavern, with green trees and creeping plants growing overhead, Fronto, Balbus and Longinus drank heartily from the choice of wines they had picked up around the main street of the town.
It had only been two and a half days since the debacle on the hill, but it seemed like a lifetime while they sat in the sun, officially off-duty and relaxed. The army had followed the Helvetii for a day, less than three miles behind them, but had veered off early yesterday morning and made for this place, the largest and wealthiest of the Aedui towns and, by chance, the home of Liscus, the Aeduan who had made the promises of corn to Caesar.
All six legions were now officially off-duty. The Aedui had welcomed the Romans to their city, and Caesar had magnanimously given the order for the soldiers to take time off, though to keep their wits about them and to remain armed. The tents of the legions had been erected below the city walls. Today the corn would be gathered and distributed, and the legions would rest. Fronto had asked Caesar whether the army would be moving on the next morning, concerned as to why no defensive systems had been erected, but the General had merely smiled and tapped his finger to the side of his large nose.
In fact, the only people who had not been excused duties were the non-legion based staff officers, who had been given the task of liaising with the Aedui leaders and merchants in the gathering of the corn. Fronto would probably have been with them had not his wounds given him reason to stay off-duty. As Longinus related a long a lurid tale of a lady of debatable virtue, punctuated regularly by Balbus’ laughter, Fronto watched the sacks of corn being moved continually down the main street toward the supply section of the Roman camp outside. A group of labourers went past with two merchants arguing, accompanied by Sabinus, who turned and frowned irritably at the legates drinking and sunning themselves. Fronto gave him a happy wave and smiled.
Only tomorrow were the troops due to be given their rations of corn, so Caesar had timed the visit perfectly. Liscus had lived up to his promise, though with a little delay. When the Romans had arrived, they had found the merchants of the city already piling the corn in carts. The army would have received its rations only a day or two late, but now, and with the organisational aid of the staff officers, the corn would be distributed a day early. By nightfall tonight, all personnel would have their allotted quantities.
Fronto suddenly became aware that a cavalry soldier was standing by the entrance to the tavern garden, looking nervous and clearing his throat. Longinus and Balbus, exchanging wild tales, had not noticed the arrival of the man.