Priscus shouted at him.
“We’ll never manage to stop them getting to the town!”
Fronto shook his head in the press.
“No, but we can whittle down their numbers by quite a few thousand before they get there.”
The advance of the line had now slowed. The press of men ahead was too great and tightly packed, and the legions dropped back to the traditional slow advance of the shield wall, systematically butchering anyone before them.
Nodding to himself with satisfaction, Fronto allowed his legion to pass around him and retreated through the ranks until he reached the rear of the Tenth, where he stepped out into the open air with the relief of a long-confined man. Just ahead he could see Labienus on horseback, accompanied by several tribunes, watching the advance.
“Titus… Sorry I didn’t give you the opportunity to give the orders. There just wasn’t time.”
Labienus nodded, frowning.
“Not a problem, Fronto. I’m a little chilled by this butchery though. The Roman way is to face them head on and fight like men. It doesn’t sit well with me attacking fleeing warriors.”
Fronto sighed.
“I do know what you mean, but they still outnumber us at least five to one. We need to even the numbers a little. It’s not like they sued for peace, after all. They’re just falling back and the moment they group together again, they could hit us like a hammer!”
The two men watched the carnage below and it took a moment for them to notice the small group of riders thundering back toward them.
“Is that Varus?”
Labienus frowned and shaded his eyes.
“I believe it is.”
They sat and watched as the half-dozen cavalrymen made their way to the command unit and finally came to a halt, breathing heavily, their horses snorting and stamping.
“Gentlemen?”
“What’s happening, Varus?”
“The Belgae are falling apart now. A large bunch; the Suessiones, I assume, made it to the oppidum, though we must have killed hundreds on the way. The Bellovaci are out of reach, way ahead and making for their own lands, but we can leave them to the Aedui if what Caesar says is true. What you have below is about sixty thousand warriors from mixed tribes but, if you look ahead, they’re already splitting up and going their own way. We can’t follow them all.”
Fronto nodded. Already, the force Priscus was busy pushing into was fragmenting, the Belgic warriors running in a dozen different directions. The shield wall was stretching to reach the enemy. At the top of his voice, he bellowed “Melee!”
Below, the legions bust forth into individual combat, fighting any target that presented itself, but even that would shortly be useless. He shrugged. They had reduced the Belgae by thousands in one afternoon with hardly any casualties to show for it. Why did it worry him that he felt less satisfaction with it that when he’d led a few non-Roman archers to victory at Bibrax?
“Well, I suppose we make camp in the valley until Caesar arrives. Let’s hope he’s in a better mood this time.”
Chapter 11
(On the plain outside Noviodunum.)
“ Vineae: moveable wattle and leather wheeled shelters that covered siege works and attacking soldiers from enemy fire.”
“ Immunes: legionary soldiers who possessed specialist skills and were consequently excused the basic more onerous duties.”
Caesar tapped his fingers irritably on his belt as he strode up and down before the staff officers. Fronto sighed once again as he looked past the general to the seven legions marshalled in readiness between the officers and the walls of the Suessiones’ oppidum.
“Time is of the essence, gentlemen. I want Noviodunum in our hands by nightfall. The other tribes are fleeing back to their lands and we need to move against them before they have enough time to prepare for another full engagement. We do not have time for a great siege or protracted campaign of starvation. I need the men to get in there as soon as possible.”
Fronto cleared his throat.
“I’ve spoken to both Tetricus and Pomponius and they are adamant that any assault against that place without proper preparations is a complete waste of time.”
Caesar stopped pacing and glared at him.
“It’s not my fault, general,” Fronto spread his hands defensively, “but the engineers know what they’re talking about. I know you’re in a hurry to move on, but the job will just have to be done a certain way.”
There was a low rumbling from Caesar’s throat.
“No, Fronto. Today! It has to be today. Now, in fact… so give me ideas, not arguments.”
Fronto settled into a growl once again. This was sheer idiocy.
“The only ideas we have involve siege engines, general. There’s just no way to cross that ditch safely. It’s too deep and too wide. And the walls beyond are too thick and too high. You can throw a million men against the place and you’ll just waste a million men.”
Plancus raised a hand and stepped forward, causing Fronto to shake his head in dismay.
“Then we must concentrate on the causeways across to the gates in the wall. Battering rams. We can break down the gates.”
Caesar nodded appreciatively, but Fronto’s growl resumed.
“Bollocks.”
“I beg your pardon?” Plancus demanded in a high-pitched shriek.
“Those causeways are wide enough for forty men abreast at most. Factor in a battering ram and you’ve barely got room for the men on either side to operate it. And no one to protect them.”
Caesar was looking back and forth between the two of them quietly.
“So use vineae!” screeched Plancus.
“If you could fit bloody vineae over those causeways, do you not think I’d have mentioned it? The causeway is too narrow!”
He turned to the silent officers behind him.
“Am I repeating myself, or am I actually not saying anything? Can you hear me? Are any words coming out?”
The legate of the fourteenth had gone purple.
“So we’ll have the men on either side of the rams form a roof with their shields then!”
Fronto grinned. He was starting to enjoy this.
“While the battering ram trundles on propelled by what? Moles? The breeze? Listen to me, Plancus…”
He illustrated his words by speaking with exaggerated slowness and waving his arms.
“The… cause… way… is… too… na… rrow!”
Plancus was actually vibrating slightly.
“Then what do you suggest, Fronto?”
He smiled.
“You know the answer to that. A siege.”
Caesar shook his head.
“No, Fronto. That’s not good enough. I want Noviodunum today. We will conduct a grand assault with all seven legions against the main gate. The auxiliary units will provide fire to pick off the defenders atop the walls. The legions will cross the causeway and the ditch wherever they can and we will have that gate down with a ram as soon as it can be brought across, and the walls down with grapples. It can be done. To your units, gentlemen.”
Fronto and Crispus stalked away from the general under the aggravated gaze of Plancus, as the legate of the Tenth kicked at the ground irritably.
“It can’t be done. I’ve known the engineers long enough to know that when they say it’s a waste of time, it’s not wise to ignore them.”
Crispus nodded unhappily as the command cornicens behind them blew out a series of commands. Fronto watched the legions ahead begin to move slowly forward, the auxiliary archers rushing around the edge to find positions they could fire from. A huge tree-trunk ram was being manhandled by a century of men and taken down to the rear of the regulars as they moved. Fronto slowed his walk and Crispus raised an eyebrow.