“The bank to my front is clear now, Boduognatus!” Commius said hotly. “If we wait any longer, it will be covered with Romans. In Lugus’s name, man, we’ve been waiting so long the legions are starting to dig in!”
That was true. From his vantage point in the trees, Boduognatus could clearly see the four legions now on the field. They had quickly formed into battle lines upon arriving in expectation of an attack, but now apparently felt that an attack would not come. The legions had detached a good half of their numbers to begin construction on the formidable marching camps, and now bare-chested Romans drove stakes into the fresh earth and dug trenches.
A full two hours had passed since the all too eager Belgic horsemen had run down the Roman skirmishers at the river’s edge. The reckless act had alerted the Romans to the Belgic army’s presence, and it had seemed that any hope of surprising the main Roman force was lost. The blunder had so enraged Boduognatus that he had ordered the responsible officer immediately executed. But, as the day had run on, without any further carelessness by his own men, the Romans had begun to assume a more casual stance, and now Boduognatus was convinced that they were ignorant of the enormous army hiding only a few hundred paces away from their lines.
The steady arrival of four legions in succession had shaken the nerves of Commius and many of the other chieftains, and that was understandable. Still, Boduognatus held out hope that Senator Valens had not betrayed him, and that the baggage train would soon come into view. That was the key. Start a panic with hundreds of carts and mules on that narrow road and it would become jammed in moments, blocking the way for any reinforcing legions to get through, and closing the escape route for those on the field. While the senator’s promise that only one or two legions would appear before the baggage train had proved incorrect, Boduognatus was confident that his seventy thousand-man army could swallow up the four legions that now sat on the opposite bank, if by sheer numbers alone, but he could see that Commius still needed convincing.
"I am certain the impedimenta simply fell behind on the march,” Boduognatus said to Commius, confidently. “It will come after this legion. I am sure of it.”
Boduognatus silently prayed that it would be so, but before he finished speaking, the lookouts in the treetops got the attention of both men and pointed to the other side of the river. The eagle of yet another legion was emerging from the hedges. This legion, the fifth to arrive, was just as large as the last, numbering nearly four thousand spears. The two chieftains watched in silence as it slowly filed onto the slope beside the previous legion, first deploying into line, and then making preparations to construct camp like the others.
"No baggage!" Commius finally said, fuming. "Your Roman friend has betrayed you, or you have betrayed us. I will not stand here and watch our enemies build fortifications and then send my men to die against them. I will withdraw. My people stand a much better chance on the walls of their oppida than they do here. "
"Wait, comrade!" Boduognatus pleaded. "We have struggled so hard to unite our tribes in arms. Let us not dissolve this alliance now, when it is our only hope of stopping our enemies. We are the Belgae. The invaders will not take our lands from us. The prophecy has foretold our victory."
"Bah! Prophecies are there to calm the nerves of the conscripts and allay the fears of their mothers. I need proof, Boduognatus, and so far you have given me only the promises made by a Roman senator. I will not stake my men's lives on such a false hope."
A hail came from the shaded ground below. A rider of the Viromandui tribe had just arrived and was craning his head to look up at them. "My lord has sent me to ask when the signal for attack will be given. He has five legions to his front preparing earthworks. There is no baggage train in sight. He demands that you come to him personally and tell him your plans. Otherwise, he will consider this a Nervii betrayal and withdraw his army from the field."
Ten thousand Viromandui warriors manned the center of the Belgic line. Evidently, their chieftain was also having doubts.
Commius met Boduognatus's eyes. "Your coalition is falling apart, my lord," he said sardonically. "We never should have trusted Nervii filth! I go!"
Commius made to descend the ladder, but Boduognatus grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Wait, my brother. This chance will not come again."
"Unhand me," Commius snarled, placing his hand on the elk horn pommel of his sheathed sword, "or I will spill your guts upon these planks!"
Another legion arriving, my lord!" A lookout called from one of the higher branches. "That makes six on the field!"
Boduognatus met Commius's eyes, then let go of his arm and turned away, acceptance of the facts finally overcoming his confidence. His heart sank as he watched four thousand more legionaries file off of the distant road and onto the river plain.
"Go then," Boduognatus said, not looking back.
Commius harrumphed and then climbed down the ladder.
As the Atrebas chieftain and his staff mounted and thundered off to rejoin their troops, Boduognatus’s mind whirled around his own failure.
How could he have been so foolish to trust Valens? The Roman senator had lied to him, and now he had led his warriors and those of the other tribes on a massive endeavor that had accomplished nothing. The shame of it all overtook his thoughts, and he suddenly became very wary of those around him. Sure, Commius no longer trusted him, but what of his own men? What were they thinking? He had seen his own bodyguard mumbling down below as they waited patiently with his nobles. Perhaps the tribal council had anticipated this failure, and had put them under oath to remove him if anything went wrong – and this day had gone so terribly wrong. Perhaps one of those polished longswords awaited him, should he climb down. They would have little choice. Once the other two tribes began to leave, his own Nervii warriors would abandon the field, too. Most would not reassemble at the oppidum but would go back to their farms, like the simple farmers they were, only caring whose rule they served under when their crops did not need tending. Today, the farmers were warriors. Today, they carried the spear. They had danced the war dance and sung the war songs. Their blood was up and their blue faces hungered for Roman blood. Today, they were unstoppable. Tomorrow, they would be normal men again, mere peasants, more concerned with the shape of the moon than with the Latin invaders marching across their lands. And the first harvest was approaching. Did Commius and the others not see this? Did the fools not understand that there was no chance of ever again forming an army this size, an army capable of defeating the Roman menace?
The Romans had to be driven from the land. They were a blight on all that was pure and good. They brought with them the corruption of extravagance and greed. If the Romans were successful in forcing the tribes into vassalage, their values and culture would spread through all of Belgica like a plague. Then, a more potent force than any Roman army would take hold of the people and never let them go – Roman merchants, bringing with them trade and wealth, the likes of which the Belgae had never seen before. Instead of seeking the pure and honorable lives of warrior farmers, they would learn complacency and indolence under the security that came with the Roman denarius. No longer would they trust in the old gods for favorable weather and fruitful harvests. Why should they, when ships on protected seas and caravans on Roman roads could provide them with all they would ever need? They would become entirely dependent on the Latins, and, yes, would probably consider themselves Roman within a few generations. The Belgae, the Nervii, and their ways – the ways of his forefathers – would cease to exist.