The general nodded, still bewildered.
“A ramp?”
“Yes, Caesar… a ramp. He says the Belgae keep gathering on the walls and pointing.”
“I’ll bet they do. I’ve heard of siege ramps before. Seen one used once, even. But never seen a ramp built across a ditch before…”
“He’s a clever bugger, that Tetricus” Fronto agreed.
As Caesar stood quietly, staring down at the casualty figures in his hands, Plancus cleared his throat.
“If I may, Caesar…”
“Mmm?”
“I think it would do the morale of the Fourteenth good if you were to thank them for their efforts earlier. We may not have succeeded, but they fought hard.”
Caesar frowned.
“I don’t think so, Plancus. That would demean the other legions, and to be honest, I’m really not in the mood to give a rousing speech.”
Fronto nodded.
“And when you’ve known soldiers a little longer, you’ll know what they appreciate, Plancus.” He turned to the general. “Caesar? Permission to break out wine rations for all off-duty legionaries as soon as the camps are complete?”
Caesar nodded.
“Good idea. Let’s regroup and try to turn today to some good. And when Tetricus is done for the day, can you ask him to visit me? I’d like him to go over his plans with me in detail.”
Fronto nodded and strode away, once more basking in the vicious looks Plancus was casting at him. It occurred to him that it did a man good to have someone to hate; defined him in some important way. Normally, it would be Crassus of course, but with the man being out west or possibly dead, it was nice that Plancus had stepped up to take his place.
He was still pondering on the differences between the two equally dislikeable officers as he headed for the quartermaster, when he heard his name being called from behind. Turning, he spotted Balbus and Sabinus walking fast to catch up with him. He waited for them and smiled as they fell into step.
“Do you really have to wind Plancus up like that?” Balbus asked lightly. “It means he spends the next three hours bumbling around miserably, looking for someone else to take it out on.”
Sabinus laughed.
“It’s funny the way he keeps putting himself forward for things. He seems to be completely unaware that everyone knows he’s an idiot. What’s on your agenda, Fronto? It seems to me that we lucky ones have actual free time. Perhaps we could relax with a drink somewhere?”
Fronto smiled and nodded, his gaze straying back up the slope to the officers gathered in a knot around Caesar and coming to rest on Crispus, who had left the group and was strolling in their direction.
“There’s nothing I’d like more, but I have something to do first. My tent should be up and furnished within the hour. I’ll meet you there then.”
The others nodded and went off their own ways, leaving Fronto standing quietly as Crispus caught up with him.
“What’s up?”
The young legate smiled.
“I think, perhaps, that we need to discuss your ‘captive’?”
Fronto went blank for a moment, frowning, and then light dawned on him.
“Hardly a captive. More like a limpet. Where is she at the moment?”
He turned and walked on toward the supply wagons where Cita would be surveying the store situation as Crispus fell in beside him.
“I have two of the tribunes of the Eleventh keeping her safe and sound and a couple of the immunes tending to her needs.” He smiled a sly smile. “Or perhaps you would rather tend to her needs, Marcus?”
Fronto glared at his companion and rolled his eyes.
“I’m not looking for someone to jump on and ravish, Crispus. I’m in the middle of a campaign. Besides, I suspect my mother and sister would have a heart attack if I brought home a Celtic girl.”
Crispus laughed.
“I was not aware that you cared that much about improprieties, Marcus.”
“Shut up.”
Crispus’ face became serious for a moment.
“You do need to decide what to do with her, though, Marcus. We cannot campaign with one of the enemy under our protection, no matter how pretty she might be.”
Fronto nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about that, but it all depends on the next stage or two of the campaign. I can’t just release her into the wilderness. That would be cruel, with wolves and bears out there. But we can’t take her with us. If, when we’ve taken Noviodunum, we can subdue the Suessiones without having to raze the place and enslave them all, I can deliver her to them to look after. They’re all Belgae, so they’ll probably look after her until she can go home one day. Unless they decided that death is better than being allies with Rome.”
Crispus nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s a pretty big if, Marcus. We have to take the place first and, since they have already cost us several thousand men, I cannot see Caesar edging toward the merciful.”
Fronto frowned as he thought of the general and his mind flipped back through past victories, coming to settle as it often did, particularly in the night, on the image of that day last year by the Saone where the Tigurine had been slowly and methodically executed under Caesar’s orders.
“Then we will either have to persuade him, or she’ll have to stay with us until the next tribe or town we deal with that can and will take her.”
The two fell silent for a moment and Fronto looked up as they approached the supply wagons.
“Cita? The general has agreed to a requisition of wine stores for the legions. Can you arrange it?”
The quartermaster’s jaw firmed.
“For Bacchus’ sake, Fronto, don’t you ever think of anything other than wine? You do know we’re on campaign here? I have a very limited stock of luxuries like wine and it’s a massive pain in the backside trying to replenish my stocks.”
“So?”
“Every time you requisition wine, I have to send a resupply list back with an empty cart all the way to Vesontio, where I had the foresight to set up a storage camp. They send us the wine and then do the same thing, sending their list to the decurions of Geneva, who actually sell us the wine, at a reduced military rate if they’re feeling generous. Then they buy in more wine from Cisalpine Gaul, across the Alps.”
Fronto shrugged.
“Your point being?”
“My point being that every time you withdraw more than a few amphorae of wine, we have to utilize a massive resupply system that relies on more than a hundred people, stretches fully half a thousand miles and, by the time that wine is in your hand, it’s cost a month’s pay for many people. Think about the cost and difficulties before you start blithely handing out luxury goods to the men!”
Fronto smiled.
“Nah. That’s your job, Cita. Mine’s to keep the men happy.”
He ignored the glare he was receiving from the quartermaster and his grin widened.
“But, on the other hand, since it’s costing so much each time, we’d best make it worth it. Have another five or six amphorae sent to my tent, will you?”
As Cita started to shake, slowly, Fronto tossed him a loose sestertius and turned with Crispus to wander back toward his headquarters area.
Several hours later, Fronto exploded with laughter and had to wipe the wine from his chin as Sabinus ended a tale of misspent youth with a side-splitting punch line. The officers seated around the legate’s tent rocked with mirth.
Sabinus grinned at his companions. By the time Fronto’s tent had been put up and his gear set out inside, almost a dozen officers had gathered to relax in the notorious officer’s company. Crispus wheezed and took a deep breath but, as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a heavy knock at the door.
Fronto cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
A legionary, ruddy-faced and out of breath, leaned in through the doorway.
“Sir? We have movement at the gate of Noviodunum. The duty centurion asked me to find you…”