“Shit!”
“What?”
“They’re on the other side of the river!”
There was a great deal of rustling and cracking as the prefect clambered and slid back down among the branches, heedless of the cuts and scratches he was acquiring.
“They’re what?” demanded Varus incredulously.
The prefect dropped lightly from the lowest branches and landed on the grass with bent knees before standing straight.
“They must have found somewhere safe upstream and crossed during the night. They’re maybe an hour away from the bridge at the most on the other side!”
“Oh shit.” Varus spat on the floor. “They’ll be able to sever our supply lines and cause havoc.”
In the privacy of his head he offered a quick prayer to Fortuna and added ‘…and hopefully they haven’t intercepted Fronto’s couriers!’
He turned back to Lucilius.
“You did a nice job here yesterday. Think you can repeat your success and clear up?”
The prefect nodded.
“Give me a few alae and I’ll leave that camp charred and covered with Belgic bodies!”
Varus slapped him on the shoulder. “Take yours and three of the auxiliary alae. That enough?”
“More than enough” agreed Lucilius through gritted teeth.
Varus nodded.
“Then I’ve got to take the rest back to camp and warn Caesar. He’ll not have time to mobilise the legions. Sabinus is going to have to defend the bloody bridge on his own!”
Without bothering to give orders, Varus wheeled his horse and began to charge, hooves thundering, back the way they’d come. As he passed the cavalry, his troopers stared in surprise at their commander storming past with an expression of great concern. Moments later, their prefects returned.
Lucilius gestured to several decurions and then pointed off to his left.
“You lot! Form up your units over there. We’ve got a few thousand Belgae to maim.”
As the selected units hurried to move their units into position, Casco, prefect of the Ninth, waved his arm expansively at the rest of the cavalry and then pointed to the retreating figure of Varus.
“Back to camp at a charge. We’ve an army to save!”
Chapter 9
(Caesar’s camp by the Aisne River.)
“ Gaesatus: a spearman, usually a mercenary of Gallic origin.”
Fronto rushed from his tent at the alarm call blared out by the command cornicen. Struggling with his cloak for a moment, he gave up in annoyance and let the crimson article drop to the grass outside the tent flap, leaving it waving in the breeze. As he ran to the general’s headquarters tent, he saw the other legates and officers rushing to the rallying point. As he reached the patch of grass outside the tent at the same time as Crispus, he bent double and clutched his knees, breathing heavily.
“What the… hell’s happened?”
As he glanced around, taking everything in, he noticed two horses tethered by the tent flap.
“Varus is back? What happened to the cavalry?”
Crispus shrugged, also taking in ragged breaths.
“I’ve no idea, Fronto.”
As Balbus came to a halt beside them and Labienus appeared, pink-cheeked with the effort of running, the general suddenly threw back the leather tent flap and stepped out into the sunlight with Varus at his shoulder.
“Gentlemen, form up your legions. Galba? I want the Twelfth to take command here and man the defences. Several alae of cavalry should be returning to join you shortly.”
He took a deep breath.
“The rest of you, get your troops moving back to the bridge at the quickest march you can manage. The Belgae have apparently found a fordable crossing point and come round behind us during the night. Sabinus is about to be attacked at any moment by a force of probably a hundred and fifty thousand Belgae on the other side of the river.”
Fronto blinked.
“The sly bastards! How long have we got?”
Varus stepped forward.
“It’s been maybe a half hour since we saw them, and they were less than an hour away then.”
“We’ll never get the legions there in time, Caesar” the legate spat. “Even if we drop everything but weapons and run, we’d be lucky to get to the river in time, but it’ll take hours to get the men across that bridge too. The legions simply can’t get there in time.”
Varus nodded.
“He’s right, Caesar. We should send a dispatch to Sabinus and tell him to get out of there as fast as he can. We’ll have to follow the Belgae and bring them to battle somewhere else.”
“No!”
The force of Caesar’s tone surprised them. The general had gone pale and his teeth ground together.
“No. It’s critical that we stop them here. My plans are being changed for me, and I won’t have that. I can’t leave this place right now and if we let them loose they have free reign with the Remi; they can burn their crops and attack and loot their settlements. What use Fronto’s hard work getting the Remi on our side if we let them go now?”
A thought seemed to strike the general and he smiled at his legate.
“Fronto.”
“Sir?”
“Think you can repeat your Bibrax triumph back at the main camp today?”
Fronto frowned.
“You mean take the missile troops and actually engage a huge army of Belgae with them? There were maybe thirty thousand Belgae there. There’s five times as many here! Respectfully, only a mad arsehole would try it!”
Caesar smiled a lop-sided smile.
“Well?” he prompted.
A grin slowly slid across Fronto’s face.
“I’ll need more men this time. There’s a lot more Belgae.”
Caesar nodded.
“Get every light auxiliary unit from every legion. All the archers, slingers and spear throwers. They’re all unarmoured light troops.” He addressed the assembled legates in front of him.
“Go now and get all your light auxiliaries to form up on the plain as fast as you can.”
Another thought seemed to strike him as the legates turned to head back to their legions.
“Labienus? You take temporary command of the Eighth. Balbus? I want you to go with Fronto and take command of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth in the camp. They could be useful.”
Balbus nodded, though worry darkened his eyes. Fronto could understand that. They were about to take two untried legions and the lightest of the auxilia into battle against a foe that would seriously outnumber them.”
The general turned back to Fronto.
“Get there as fast as possible and engage them, Fronto. You don’t have to defeat them; just hold them there until the rest of the legions can engage.”
Varus cleared his throat.
“Caesar? The cavalry can get there in time to help as well. Permission to accompany Fronto and his men?”
The general nodded.
“Very well, Varus.”
He regarded the three commanders in front of him.
“The bridge would slow the rest of the legions too much, but if the Belgae can find another way, so can we. I shall take the Eighth, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh as fast as we can along the river to the east. If a hundred thousand barbarians can ford it in a few hours, the legions should be quicker. You three keep them busy at the bridge and we will come round behind them and seal off their escape route. Once we have them trapped between us, I think things will quickly go our way.”
Fronto nodded. A quick glance and he could see how quickly and efficiently the Roman commanders had organised their legions. The main forces were already forming up. The light auxiliary units were being rushed out to the side, where they were gathering in a much looser formation, waiting for their commander.
Caesar smiled.
“Good luck gentlemen. I shall see you on the south bank.”
The three officers saluted and, as the general strode off toward the regulars, Fronto turned to Varus and Balbus.