The men nodded.
“Good. Then go.”
Without watching them leave, Fronto turned and strode back towards his own tent.
“Wine!” he said, slapping his forehead. Veering off to the side, he strode in the direction of the quartermaster.
* * * * *
The morning was pale and watery, as was Fronto, blearily emerging from his tent like a cave dwelling creature coming out of hibernation.
“What is it?” he grumbled, rubbing his bristly chin and blinking. This was going to be a powerful hangover.
“The scouts are back and Caesar’s called for his officers, sir.”
Fronto stared at the young guard in front of him; one of Ingenuus’ men, neat and smart, who had obviously been on guard.
“Urgh.” Wincing, Fronto excavated a lump of crusted sleep from the corner of his eye.
“Of course… the general’s had a long sleep, so he’s up at Aurora’s arse!” He became aware of the smirk the soldier was trying to hide. “Lead on!”
As he shuffled along behind the guard in the direction of Caesar’s tent, he saw Balbus approaching with Varus. The latter was clean-shaven and bright, but the older legate was clearly enjoying this morning as much as Fronto was. He smiled. On the bright side, they’d both be feeling better than Sabinus who, this morning, probably wished he was dead. The two legates shared a look and entered the tent.
Many of the staff and senior officers were already present and seated. Fronto and Balbus walked around the edge and sank gratefully into their chairs. The general tapped impatiently on the table and then cleared his throat.
“My scouts have returned and confirmed the situation, gentlemen.”
He tapped on the map behind him, indicating the territory to the west.
“The surviving force, numbering probably around a hundred and twenty thousand has made for the lands of the Suessiones. There they plan to disperse to protect their own lands and wait to see what our next move is. It would appear that the Bellovaci have become aware of the Aedui in their lands and have already gone off ahead on their own.”
The general paused and registered the surprise on many officers’ faces at news of their Gaulish allies.
“I am sure of Divitiacus’ ability to deal with them on his own, so I intend to concentrate on the rest. We will not give the Belgae enough time to pull a huge army together again, but will move on them swiftly, one tribe at a time. But in the first instance, while they’re still largely together and disorganised, I want to damage them further. We are only a day behind them and can easily catch up.”
He smiled grimly.
“I want to follow them closely and keep harrying them. I want to encourage them to panic and disperse and, as soon as they have, we will make for the Suessiones’ capital at Noviodunum, where we will bring that tribe and any allies that remain to battle and either absorb or annihilate them. Once that is done, all of the southern Belgae will be under our controclass="underline" the Bellovaci, Suessiones and the Remi. Divide and conquer, gentlemen… divide and conquer.”
There was a shuffling noise at the rear. Fronto turned to look and he and Balbus almost let out an explosive burst of laughter. Sabinus was sheepishly stumbling around the periphery and looking for a seat. He resembled one of the homeless drunken old soaks that lived in the outfall pipe of the cloaca maxima in Rome. There was a general good humoured murmur, though Fronto turned and watched the disapproving frown on the general’s face.
Caesar cleared his throat.
“So this is what you will do: Varus? You will take the cavalry and harass the enemy as they flee. You will need to split into three forces to herd them in the correct direction along the river, so… Pedius and Cotta? I am assigning you to Varus on cavalry duty.”
He gestured at Varus.
“I want you out there and engaging them in the next few hours. As soon as we’re done in here, get the cavalry moving. Keep pushing them west into the Suessiones’ land. And don’t bother having them decamp first. Just get going.”
Varus nodded professionally. Fronto smiled. The young cavalry prefect he’d seen at Vesontio last year had evaporated, to be replaced by this professional veteran who had just had two of Caesar’s most senior staff officers placed under his command.
The general wheeled.
“Right behind them will be half the army. The Eighth, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh are all fresh and at full strength. Those four legions under their commanders will move out immediately after the cavalry at the fastest possible pace. Again, they need to take only their weapons and armour. Leave the decamping and transport. Just get caught up. Varus will be keeping them busy until you arrive.”
He turned to the officer on his left.
“Labienus? I’m putting you in overall command of that force. The legates all know what they’re doing…”
He cast a pointed look at Fronto and Balbus.
“… despite current appearances… but I want a cohesive strategy and that means an overall command system. Kill as many of them as you have to with as few losses as possible. Don’t let them change course, and don’t allow them to form up into a proper army again. You will need to play this carefully to keep them moving. Be a shepherd and only cull where necessary.”
Labienus nodded and the general straightened.
“The Twelfth have been mopping up the survivors by the marsh and burying the dead. Galba will return shortly. Once he is here, the Twelfth, Thirteenth and Fourteenth will break camp and accompany the slow-moving artillery and baggage. I will stay with them and we will transport all the gear of the cavalry and the other four legions until we meet up and find the place for our next campaign camp.”
He folded his arms and scanned the crowd in the tent.
“Is that all clear? Any questions or comments?”
Fronto cleared his throat.
“With respect, Caesar, there are still quite a few Belgae unaccounted for. According to the numbers you got from the spies and the Remi before we moved into Belgae lands, we’ve only come across half or two thirds of them. We can be fairly sure the rest aren’t out to the west. If the Bellovaci are rushing that way to protect their lands, then there’s no allies out there. We know they’re not south ‘cause that’s where we came from. They can’t be west as that’s all Gallic and Germanic lands and we’d have heard. That means they’re north and when the legions follow the survivors, they’ll have free reign behind us.”
Caesar frowned and rubbed his neck.
“So what are you suggesting, Fronto?”
You need a rearguard, Caesar. A strong rearguard. All your cavalry will be out west and you’ll be weighed down by the wagons. I’d suggest you send three legions west, not four. Then have two legions accompanying the baggage and artillery and two playing rearguard. In fact, I’d be tempted to keep a small cavalry unit to act as scouts and outriders for the column.”
Caesar nodded.
“I suppose that’s sensible. And we need to be sure of our supply lines anyway. Very well. I’ll keep the Eleventh and Twelfth for rearguard and the Thirteenth and Fourteenth with the baggage. The Eighth, Ninth and Tenth will go west under Labienus.”
Ten minutes later, Fronto was standing, still grey, bleary and unshaven, by the standards of the Tenth in their shrine. Priscus sat on the altar to victory, an act that was highly sacrilegious, and folded his arms.
“So we’re actually going to have a chance to fight?”
Fronto nodded.
“It’s not going to be much of a fight. We’re just pursuing a fleeing army and nipping at their heels. Varus and his cavalry left five minutes ago. Caesar wants the three legions ready to move, unburdened by crap, within the hour. I want the Tenth out front and ready in half that time. We’ve a reputation to maintain, Gnaeus.”
The primus pilus laughed.
“You’re certainly living up to yours. If you want us to look good, go bathe and shave while we decamp. You smell like a latrine and you look awful.”