“The Germans are men. Barbarians, yes. They may be tall and vicious, but they are just men. We’ve defeated men before. We’ve even defeated Germans before. Gaius Marius himself fought the Cimbri and the Teutones and brought them to their knees and his army was less powerful than this one.”
A dramatic pause followed. Caesar turned his head and gave Balbus a knowing half-smile. He probably thought that the silence among the crowd was a good thing: soldiers ashamed, contemplating their own failures. Balbus knew otherwise. He knew the common centurionate. What they were doing was waiting for the General to finish before they made any kind of decision or reaction.
Caesar turned back to the crowd.
“The Helvetii have stood between Rome and the German tribes for a long time. They have fought and defeated the Germans repeatedly for centuries, and we beat the Helvetii. Rome is the master on the battlefield and you must all know this. We have beaten the best, so the Germans hold no fear for me.”
Another pause and another half-smile. Balbus hoped to the Gods that Caesar wasn’t willing to push them too far. The centurionate held far more loyalty to their units than to Caesar right now and an insurrection by the centurions would be worse by far than anything rumour-mongering tribunes could manage.
“Do not panic about being caught like rats. When the time comes for us to fight Ariovistus, we will do it in the field like we were trained to. We have full supplies and a good source for more if we need it. The local Gaulish tribes have all agreed to aid us. We have everything we need. Do not tell me that what we lack is fighting spirit!”
The last line was delivered with a thumping of his fist on the front rail of the tribunal. Again there was silence. This time, as Caesar turned to look at Balbus, his face betrayed the first hint of worry. A voice from deep in the centre of the crowd called out.
“What if we do have a good fighting spirit? We can only keep the men in line if there are good examples set from above. Senior officers are trying to leave. How does that look to the men? If we all stand and march on the Germans with you, can we guarantee that the soldiers will go?”
Caesar leaned forward on the rail.
“Are you suggesting that one of these legions would actually revolt? That’s unthinkable! These are the greatest force in the Empire. If they lack spirit, we must give them it back. You must give them it back, for it’s to the centurions that they look, not to tribunes or staff officers. Spirit is what matters. The slaves’ revolt ravaged Italy twenty years ago and nearly broke legions in their path. They were slaves! How did slaves manage such power? Because they had spirit. There is no reason for the troops to fear or cower, or even to have reservations. We will defeat the Germans. Tonight we will ride out to meet Ariovistus. I will break camp and the officers will go with me. We will see how many men cower in their camp then.”
Balbus shook his head gently. Caesar was playing a dangerous game.
The General scanned the crowd for a moment until his eyes fell on Priscus.
“Centurion Priscus. Are the Tenth stood to?”
Priscus moved out of the crowd to the front.
“Aye General, the Tenth are ready.”
He turned to face the crowd.
“Officers of the Tenth to the front!”
In perfect military order, fifty three men stepped out of the crowd and lined up behind Priscus, their backs straight and their vine staves under their arms. Caesar smiled.
“Are your men ready for a fight?”
Priscus grinned.
“The Tenth are always ready for a fight, sir!”
“And do you not worry about cowardice or reluctance in your legion, Priscus?”
The grin widened.
“No General. Got rid of ‘em all sir. Won’t have cowards in my legion.”
Caesar straightened again and addressed the crowd.
“The Tenth have always been stalwart and I have always placed my trust in them. If morale fails among your men, I would go with just the Tenth in place of my Praetorian Cohort and we would still beat the Germans. Can any of you match the Tenth?”
There was a great deal of muttering among the centurions. Again, Balbus wondered whether Caesar had provoked them a little too much. To shame the centurionate was a dangerous move. He became aware of a small knot of centurions moving through the crowd.
Balventius reached the front and turned his one good eye to Priscus. He nodded professionally at him and then stood to attention facing Caesar.
“The Eighth will be ready to move out by nightfall, General.”
Without turning, he called out loudly.
“Officers of the Eighth!”
The half dozen men that had accompanied him through the crowd fell in beside him and the rest of the Eighth’s centurions made their way from the crowd to the front.
Crispus coughed politely behind Caesar, who turned and raised an eyebrow.
“May I, sir?”
Caesar hesitated for a moment and then nodded, stepping aside for the young man. Balbus smiled as the young legate approached the rail. He liked Crispus a great deal.
“Where are the Eleventh? I realise that your soldiers are relatively new to military endeavours but you, their centurions, are all veterans. Can I believe that the legion who defended the flank at Bibracte and saved the army’s posterior are unwilling to stand with me now?”
A centurion somewhere at the back began to push his way forward. Once he reached the open space at the front, where the Eighth and Tenth stood, he addressed his commander.
“Legate, I and many others will stand with you as always. I cannot guarantee the men, though. We are a young legion; the officers are drawn from other units and have only worked together for a few months. It is hard to appeal to a unifying spirit in such conditions. We will return to camp and call out the whole legion when we leave here. If you would care to join us, sir, I believe that your presence would help give heart to your men.”
Crispus nodded.
“Very well. I will join you presently.”
As Crispus stepped back, Balbus caught him.
“Well done lad. He’s right about the nature of the Eleventh, but they’re rapidly becoming a proper force, and a lot of that’s down to you. They’ll march out tonight. I think all the legions will apart, maybe, from the Seventh.”
Caesar once more took the rail.
“Go then. Go to your men and prepare them for the off.”
With one last salute, the General turned and climbed back down the steps, followed by Sabinus and the other officers. As they walked back along the forest road, Caesar’s Praetorians ahead and behind and along the road verge, Sabinus beckoned to Balbus and Crispus. The two jogged ahead and caught up with the General and Sabinus. The four of them walked in a small knot well ahead of the rest. Caesar turned to Balbus.
“Quintus, I still worry about the men. Perhaps it has gone too deep now?”
Balbus shook his head.
“You heard the Tenth and the Eighth, sir.”
“Yes, but I bluff, Quintus. I couldn’t go to face Ariovistus with only the two, no matter how good they are.”
He noticed Crispus.
“Even three. I need them all. Every last son of Rome. What do I do if I can’t count on them?”
Balbus shrugged.
“Try. All we can do is try. I don’t think the legions will fail you, sir.”
Crispus shook his head.
“Nor I, General. Nonetheless I do have a suggestion for you.”
Caesar frowned.
“Go on.”
“Diplomacy. Give the legions the leisure to come to terms with facing the German horde. Let them behold the Germans and they will undoubtedly arrive at the conclusion that Ariovistus’ forces are merely men after all.”
The General’s frown deepened.