Fronto smiled his least pleasant of smiles.
“Crassus is not well liked by his peers and that cannot have escaped your notice. I am not alone in my opinions. The Seventh don’t like him a great deal. He’s unnecessarily hard and officious with them and unless he calms down he could cause trouble. Whole armies have mutinied before now due to that kind of command. I realise that he’s young, and trying to prove himself among his elders. He may even be a good tactical man, but his attitude is going to have to change if he wants to keep a command. You saw how he treated Tetricus. If I hadn’t requested the transfer, he’d have made the tribune’s life hell when he rejoined his unit. Is that plain enough?”
The General nodded sadly.
“It pains me to say it, but I do agree with you. I need to speak to him privately and try and adjust his aggressive command technique, but there is a problem. I know you’re aware of a lot more than you probably should be, but I also know you’re discrete. I need you to bear in mind when we talk of Crassus that not only is his father one of the most powerful men in Rome, he’s also largely responsible for me being where I am. I owe the man a lot of money and a great deal more besides. I cannot afford to disgrace his son. I need him where he is, but I’ll have to calm him down. You see, even I’m not above having to pander to people.”
Fronto nodded. It was an all too familiar story.
“We’ll do what we can to help, as always Caesar, but please don’t expect me to prostrate myself in front of him. I owe him nothing, and if he needs putting in his place, I damn well intend to do it.”
Caesar smiled.
“Good. If I’m restricted by personal ties, it might be good for him to have someone else doing that. My other thought is connected to this, though. I’m worried about the legions becoming too tied to their commanders. In the case of some officers, notably you and Balbus, I feel safe in the knowledge that you’re the right men for the job. Other commanders I don’t know as well, though. It occurs to me that they may show more allegiance to their commanders than to me or to Rome. I have given much thought to abandoning my policy of long-term legates and returning power to the tribunes and temporary commanders. What are your thoughts?”
The legate raised his eyes and focused on Caesar.
“Sir, the legions are tied closely with their commanders, but that is a good thing, and the legions will always become closely linked with a charismatic leader. I would respectfully submit that the benefits of your unusual command policy seriously outweigh the setbacks. I can foresee a day when all the legions have a permanent commander. I think it’s the only feasible way forward. To my mind you needn’t worry about the troops so long as you have good and loyal legates. They’re the ones you need to watch. After all… when it comes down to it, who pays them all? You, Caesar; not us.”
Caesar smiled.
“You always make me feel better Marcus. I feel confident in my decisions once they’ve had your approval.
Fronto smiled wearily.
“Caesar, the six legions have marched readily and almost continually for a long time now, and the new auxiliaries haven’t rested since their departure from Geneva. I saw the effect that the free off-duty day in Bibracte had on the men and I think that, should the battle go our way, we should stay encamped here for perhaps a week. The legions could all do with the rest and it’d give us time to mend, heal and recover. Besides which, we still have the trial of Dumnorix to attend to. We can spend the time strengthening our ties to the Aedui.”
Caesar smiled.
“Agreed. A time of recuperation and political manoeuvring after warfare is done. Thank you, Marcus. As always I find your advice a comfort. Now all we need to do is to win the battle.”
* * * * *
“Bloody Typical.”
Priscus looked over at Velius and raised his eyebrows.
“What?”
“Being at the front. As usual.”
Priscus grinned.
“Gives you a chance to prove yourself, man.”
“Huh.”
The legions were camped on a hill about half a mile from Bibracte. According to the latest intelligence, the Helvetii would arrive a little after dawn. The army had been given its positions and there was no time or need to erect tents and fortifications; no one would be caught unawares tonight. The evening was dry and quite warm, the rain having given way to sunshine well before lunchtime. The ground had dried out thoroughly, and there was a strange atmosphere on the hill. Rather than a pre-battle tension, there was something of a summer camping expedition feel. In the twilight, soldiers from six legions lay wrapped in their cloaks and blankets under the open sky. Those who were still awake munched on the remains of game and salted meat cooked over the small fires dotted around the hill. A few drank to bolster their courage for the next day; others played dice to take their mind off it.
Priscus, Velius and Fronto sat with a flask of well-watered wine halfway up the hill, where the Tenth had been assigned. The legion had been organised (as had the others) in three rows, with four cohorts in the front line, and three in each subsequent one. Thus the crescent formation on the hill stood fifty men deep and, with the four legions side by side, four hundred men long. The Tenth were stationed as one of the two centre legions, alongside the Eighth. The Ninth took the left flank and the Seventh the right, side by side with Fronto’s men. The Eleventh and Twelfth Legions, still relatively untried, stayed on the crest of the hill with the auxiliaries, surrounding the baggage and the staff officers. The entire hill was covered with men, such that virtually no ground was visible beneath the resting bodies.
It had been a very long time since an army this size had drawn up lines for engagement anywhere. The cavalry were visible on the plain at the bottom of the hill. They would leave before dawn and engage the Helvetii, drawing them closer and egging them on. The plan was well thought out and would be carefully executed.
The cavalry now controlled the only beasts on the field of battle. Caesar had had his own horse, along with that of every officer and all of the pack animals, removed to a corral at the very crown of the hill, surrounded by baggage carts. No one would be given an easy way to flee this field.
Velius looked up at Fronto, reflected firelight dancing in his eyes and across the metalwork of his uniform and armour. Fronto sat in his tunic and breeches, but without the cuirass. He was still suffering with the damage to his right arm and would be doing, so the doctors said, probably until the winter and the campaigning season was over. As such, he would take no active part in the battle, but had refused to stay entirely out of the way.
“Sir?”
“Hmm?”
Fronto reeled in his thoughts from afar. Velius shifted his bulk on his blanket, crossing his legs.
“How many men do you reckon they have? The Helvetii I mean.”
Fronto frowned.
“I remember their numbers being estimated in one of the old man’s briefings. I think they had about three hundred thousand when they left Geneva, but maybe a third of those were men of fighting age.”
“Whew…”
Priscus whistled.
“I hadn’t realised there were that many. They always look like such a disorganised rabble when they’re on the move you kind of forget how many there are.”
Velius sniffed.
“Bunch o’ rectums the whole lot of ‘em.”
Fronto and Priscus turned to look at Velius, who shrugged.
“What?”
He continued to sit, chewing on a piece of salted pork while the other two rolled around in laughter on the floor.
“You do have a way with words, man, have I ever mentioned that?”
Velius grinned.
“Anyway, dunno why we’re counting on that many. We know a quarter of ‘em disappeared by the river.”