“I presume you have no intention of putting him in command of the cavalry?”
Caesar cleared his throat.
“I’m making no decision about it now. Longinus is still warm. Crassus, if you’re not joining us, you should head back to your legion for the time being.”
Crassus grunted.
“Yes, General.”
Turning, he rode off.
Fronto suddenly realised that Ingenuus was leaning over the body. He wandered over to the young prefect and patted him on the shoulder. The man had risen high in the ranks but he was still very young, inexperienced and impressionable. He glanced up at Varus.
“Can you take him somewhere and talk to him?”
Varus, his face still red, nodded and beckoned to Ingenuus. The two wandered along the bank. Caesar looked at Fronto and Crispus.
“I want to see any prisoners you took. Just a couple, if you have lots. Can they be brought out here?”
Crispus and Fronto shared a glance.
“There aren’t very many sir, if you get my drift?”
The General nodded. Crispus stood, shakily.
“I need to exercise my muscles for a moment anyway and perhaps dip myself in a horse trough. With your permission, Caesar, I’ll bring you all the prisoners. Both of them.”
As he staggered off down the inside of the bank, Caesar looked at Fronto.
“Both of them?”
Nod.
“I see that you were well in the middle of the action, by the state of you?”
Nod. Swig of wine.
“The corpses and line of battle across the field show that you didn’t exactly defend the wall, am I right?”
Nod.
“Marcus, you’re one of the best. Certainly the best I have in this army, but I can’t have you endangering the entire campaign through insane stunts brought on by grief and rage. And I particularly cannot let you lead Crispus down that path. He’s young and naïve. He’s lost a figure he respected today. You are the nearest thing he has here to a father, and how you treat him will affect his whole future. Are you going to speak to me?”
Fronto looked up and took another swig of wine.
“Longinus is gone. We couldn’t get to him in time. Don’t underestimate how well-liked he was.”
“You and he used to hate each other.”
Fronto glared angrily at Caesar.
“Don’t pick apart what you don’t understand. We never hated each other. We were just different, and there was a resentment. We were both mature and sensible enough to overcome our differences, and he became a damn good friend. One of the best. And a good cavalry commander. If you let Crassus run amok with them, our cavalry will all either die or desert. Here.”
He held out a parchment that Caesar gently took from his hand and unfurled before letting it roll up again a second later.
“His will? It wasn’t meant for me to read. What do I need to know?”
Fronto sighed.
“He left me his best cloak. Bit of a joke I think, the old bastard. Left me his horse too, would you believe it? Other than that, he appears to have left his sword to Varus, though I haven’t told him yet. The rest of his stuff goes back to his family in Italy.”
Caesar nodded.
“He obviously held you in more esteem than I thought. He loved his horse a great deal I understand. Other than that, fairly ordinary, yes?”
Fronto nodded.
“Apart from one thing. He wanted me to propose Varus as his replacement should this happen. He specifically stated him in the amendment he made at Vesontio. Surely you can’t select Crassus.”
Caesar sighed.
“I cannot always do what I wish, Marcus. I am not a God, so I must sometimes do as I am required. I have to give Crassus a chance. I can stop him doing something if he does it wrong, but I cannot prevent him from trying. I owe his father much too much for that.”
“So you’re going to ignore this?”
He waved the will at Caesar.
“It is my prerogative and my duty to assign commanders, not their own. I would be happy to accept Varus and would go with the recommendation were he the only candidate. He has proved himself a number of times. However, Crassus wants it, and he’s currently got the more important claim. Things may change, Marcus. There’s a long way ahead of us yet. Crassus will get his chance to prove he can do it, but only one chance. No more.”
Fronto nodded unhappily.
“If you’d like, I’ll speak to Varus and tell him all about it.”
“Thank you Marcus. Here comes Crispus with the prisoners. Before he gets here, I want you to remember one thing. Crispus is going to look to you now. He’s very young, and he takes inspiration from the other commanders. Be sure you inspire him correctly and not toward chaos, yes?”
Another unhappy nod.
The two surviving prisoners of the German attack were dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the bank. Crispus indicated the auxiliary soldier standing beside him.
“This is one of our Aeduan allies who speaks both their language and ours fluently.”
Caesar looked down at the Aeduan cavalryman.
“You’ll translate for them and I?”
“Yes Caesar.”
“Ask them why Ariovistus won’t come out and fight me.”
A brief and garbled exchange followed between the prisoners and the auxiliary, after which he turned to face the General.
“It’s a little hard to explain, Caesar, but… well you know how before the legions are committed, a Haruspex is consulted, and the entrails of a bird are opened in order to determine the auspices for the day?”
The General nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, Ariovistus has his own Haruspices to consult, but his are Matrons of the tribes; revered old women. They cast bones and determine the will of their Gods from how the bones fall and, if they fall wrong, Ariovistus will not commit.”
“And the bones keep falling badly for him?”
The auxiliary exchanged brief words with the prisoners again and then addressed the General once more.
“They do not need to, Caesar. They cast their bones once when they first arrived and they informed the King that if he attacked before the new moon, the Gods would not let him win. Thus he has committed to small actions only and won’t commit his main force until then.”
Caesar frowned.
“How long to the new moon, Crispus?”
The young legate shrugged.
“A little over a week, I suppose.”
“Too long. I won’t let their barbarian superstitions prolong this stand-off.”
Crispus cleared his throat.
“Sir, we are just as superstitious in our observance of ritual Haruspicy before taking action.”
Caesar nodded.
“Yes, but frankly, I’ve never believed in them. I go along with it to keep people happy but life is what you make it, Crispus, and I intend to make it difficult for Ariovistus. We hold Longinus’ funeral tonight. I want everything out of the way before tomorrow because in the morning we set upon the Germans.”
He turned and called over to the two cavalry officers. Varus and Ingenuus walked over to the General and stood side by side.
“Sir?”
“Gentlemen. I want you to arrange a pyre for your commander. This ballista…” he patted the weapon that stood next to Longinus’ body “will be removed to the camp interior. The pyre will be built here on this platform, and it should be high. I want the Germans to be able to clearly see it burn. Have torches lit all along the defences.”
Fronto glanced over at Caesar, a sad look about him.
“You can’t even give Longinus a send off without making a statement with it, can you General?”
Caesar glared back at Fronto. The man was usually only this bold when they were in private. It could cause trouble if he started questioning his commander in front of other officers. Still, Caesar was aware of the grief clutching him at the moment and, whether he should have said it or not, he was, of course, correct. His glare lessened.