“We’re going to have to goad them into sending some kind of force out somewhere we can meet them,” Fronto murmured. “I don’t suppose you could get your cavalry round behind them and destroy this relief force?”
Varus shook his head.
“Not really. Not in time. We’d likely end up trapped between two armies of Belgae.”
“Then we’re going to have to either provoke them into coming to us or find another way to pick off a number of them. Your man Lucilius did a good job earlier. Maybe he could think of something?”
Varus shrugged.
“Whatever we try, the terrain will be dangerous and the Belgae will be well prepared.”
He looked up into the purple sky.
“And it’s too late to do anything tonight anyway. It’ll have to be in the morning.”
Fronto nodded.
“Fair enough. Gives us a night to work something out anyway.”
He smiled at Balbus.
“Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ve seen quite enough of Caesar for one day. Priscus will deal with moving the Tenth, and I presume you’ve set Balventius to moving your lot. Shall we retire to my tent for a beverage or two? It seems like an awful long time since I’ve seen you socially.”
Balbus chuckled, rubbing his fist.
“That it does. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, the last time I had to break your nose!”
Fronto smiled weakly.
“Yes, well…”
He turned to Varus.
“After you’ve reported to Caesar, come join us. We should talk.”
Varus nodded.
“I’ll find you.”
It was a little less than an hour later, with the last glow of the sun finally vanishing in the west, when Varus, divested of his armour and weapons and looking tired though relaxed in just tunic and breeches, finally knocked on Fronto’s tent.
“Come on in.”
He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the low lamp light. Fronto’s tent looked exactly how Varus would have imagined: the furniture was pushed back against the walls, heaped with dirty clothes and junk, his armour in a pile near the door where he had dropped it, and the centre of the tent covered with rugs and cushions, all set around a low table on which sat a pair of dice, several piles of sesterces and goblets and jugs of wine.
In addition to Fronto and Balbus, the training officer of the Tenth, centurion Velius, and Aulus Crispus, legate of the Eleventh, sat around drinking and laughing. With a smile, Varus sank gratefully into a pile of cushions.
“Gentlemen.”
As he sat, Fronto leaned back and his face became serious for a moment.
“Is there anyone around outside?”
Varus shook his head.
“Not nearby. Why?”
Fronto sighed.
“There’s something I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I’m going to anyway.”
Balbus raised an eyebrow.
“Very mysterious. You shouldn’t pass on secrets, Marcus.”
Fronto laughed quietly.
“I don’t think it should be a secret. Caesar wants it kept under wraps because he’s starting to get paranoid about people in his army being untrustworthy or leaking information to the Belgae.”
He cast a glance round the room and smiled.
“But I’d be willing to bet my career on you lot.”
It was true. Balbus had no political leanings and Velius was a career centurion with no position in Rome. There was no guarantee that Crispus and Varus had no other agenda but, apart from the fact that they owed their commissions to Caesar, something about the pair of them just sat well with Fronto. He would be prepared to trust any one of these men with his life.
“Thing is… I know why we’re sitting tight and not engaging the Belgae.”
He leaned back, noting with interest the intrigued look on the faces of all of his companions expect Balbus, who merely nodded thoughtfully.
“The Aedui” he stated and leaned back.
Balbus nodded again.
“I had a suspicion” he confirmed. “Didn’t want to voice it, since Caesar clearly intended to keep this quiet, but there was a glaring hole in Caesar’s attack plan, and there was only one logical solution.”
Fronto smiled.
“You’re ahead of the game, Quintus. Yes, Divitiacus and a sizeable Aedui army have been traipsing through the western edge of the Belgae lands, burning as they go. The Bellovaci tribe, I think it is.”
Crispus smiled and poured himself another drink.
“So Caesar’s waiting for the forces to join up? Or just to have them at the other side of the Belgae as a threat. Might be able to end this entire campaign peacefully if we can trap the Belgae in a vice and threaten them.”
Varus shook his head.
“We’ll still have a battle on our hands. I’ve seen these Belgae in action now. They’ll not lie down and give in. The only way we’re ever going to beat them in a straight fight without more legions is by being inventive and out-thinking them.”
“Agreed,” Fronto added. “I saw them at Bibrax, and they’re not the sort of people to give up without a fight. We only succeeded because of a few clever moves.”
Balbus scratched his head, deep in thought.
“So I assume Caesar set all this in motion long before we even left Vesontio. The Aedui must have started moving the same time as us.”
Fronto nodded.
“Caesar sent riders out to Divitiacus the same time he sent those couriers to Rome; to his sister.”
He stopped for a moment, frowning. Varus took a swig from his goblet.
“Caesar sent riders to Rome?”
Fronto waved a hand.
“Hang on. Yes. It’s a long story and one you might be better off not knowing.”
Balbus shook his head.
“Too late now. You’ve already told him enough.”
The older legate turned to the cavalry commander.
“Paetus; the camp prefect?”
Varus nodded.
“He’s involved with one of Caesar’s opposition in Rome.”
Velius spluttered over his wine as Varus stared.
“True,” admitted Fronto. “Caesar was all for getting rid of him one way or another, but it’s not really Paetus’ fault. He’s been used; he’s not really a traitor, so we found a way to use him ourselves. We turned him back on his patron in Rome. Caesar’s going to have him…”
Suddenly, Fronto stared and then slapped his head.
“Balbus, I think I’ve been stupid.”
A questioning frown.
“I should have realised. When I talked to Caesar a while back about Paetus and the couriers, for a moment he acted as though he hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.”
He ground his teeth.
“And that’s because he hadn’t. He’d forgotten what he told me. He never sent anyone to Rome. The couriers he sent out were to the Aedui!”
Balbus’ frown deepened.
“That means that Paetus’ family are still in danger. No one’s watching over them after all. Would Caesar really do that? Are you sure about this, Marcus?”
Fronto started to climb to his feet.
“Quintus, I’m beyond sure. We’ve got to warn Paetus not to go along with Caesar. He’ll be endangering his wife and children.”
Balbus grasped his wrist and pulled him back down to the cushions, a dark look on his face.
“Too late, Marcus. Caesar had Paetus send his messages to Rome while you were off fighting at Bibrax…”
Fronto let out a low animal growl.
“That heartless, cold bastard.”
The vicious edge to his voice made Varus and Crispus start with surprise. Fronto slammed his fist on the floor.
“The old bastard deliberately had Paetus put himself and his family in danger. He could easily have stopped it, or protected them as he said he would. But no! The miserable old bastard just had Paetus sign a death warrant on his own family. If that Clodius is as nasty a piece of work as I hear, he’ll not flinch from gutting a woman and children.”
Balbus’ jaw line hardened.
“Not only that, but Caesar actually waited until you were safely out of the way before he set it in motion. I expect he thinks that you’d try and stop it.”
He sighed.