Conn Iggulden - The Field Of Swords

The Helvetii were still stunned by their sudden reversal of fortunes. Those of the Aedui they had taken as prisoners had to be forcibly separated after two stabbings in the morning. The Aedui women had taken revenge on their captors with a viciousness that appalled even hardened soldiers. Julius ordered two of them hanged and there were no more such incidents.

The army of the Aedui appeared out of the tree line before noon, when Julius was wondering if they were ever going to get the huge column moving. Seeing them in the distance, Julius sent a scout out to them with a one-word message: “Wait.” He knew the chaos could only be increased with several thousand angry fighters itching to attack a beaten enemy. To help their patience, after an hour Julius followed the message with a train of oxen, bearing Helvetii weapons and valuables. The prisoners he had liberated were sent with them, and Julius was pleased to have them off his hands. He had been generous with the Aedui, though Mark Antony told him they would assume he kept the best pieces for himself, no matter what he sent them. In fact, he had kept back the gold cups, splitting them between the generals of his legions.

As noon passed and the Helvetii were still on the plain, Julius became red-faced and irritated with the delays. Part of it was down to the inescapable fact that the leaders of the tribe had all been killed in the fighting, leaving a headless mass of people who milled about until he was tempted to have the optios use their staffs on them to start them on their way.

At last, Julius ordered swords to be returned to two thousand of the warriors. With weapons in their hands, the men stood a little more proudly and lost the forlorn look of prisoners and slaves. Those men bullied the column into something like order, and then, with a single horn blowing against the breeze, the Helvetii moved off. Julius watched them go with relief, and as Mark Antony had predicted, the moment it was clear they were heading north the Aedui started streaming onto the plain, calling and shouting after them.

Julius had his cornicens summon the six legions to block the path of Mhorbaine’s warriors, and as they approached he wondered if they would stop or whether another battle would end the day. In the mood he was in, he almost welcomed it.

The lines of the Aedui halted a quarter of a mile away on the plain. They had crossed the site of the battle and tens of thousands of unburied bodies that were already beginning to stink. There could be no greater way of demonstrating the power of the legions facing them than walking over a field of the dead they had left behind. They would spread the word.

He watched as Mhorbaine rode out with two followers carrying high pennants that fluttered on the breeze. Julius waited for them, his impatience disappearing as the Helvetii began to dwindle behind. Many of his men threw glances at the receding column, feeling the soldier’s natural dislike at being trapped between large groups, but Julius showed nothing of this, his weariness giving him an empty calm, as if all his emotion had been drained away with the column.

Mhorbaine dismounted and opened his arms in a wide embrace. Gently, Julius deflected him and Mhorbaine covered his confusion with a laugh.

“I have never seen so many of my enemies dead on the ground, Caesar. It is astonishing. Your word was good to me and the gifts you sent make it sweeter, knowing the source. I have brought cattle for a great feast, enough to fill your men until they are near bursting. Will you break bread with me?”

“No,” Julius replied, to the man’s obvious astonishment. “Not here. The bodies bring disease if they are left. They are on your land and they should be buried or burnt. I am returning to the province.”

Mhorbaine looked angry for a moment at the refusal. “You think I should spend a day digging holes for Helvetii corpses? Let them rot as a warning. As a stranger here, you may not know the custom to hold a feast after a battle. The gods of the earth must be shown the living have respect for the dead. We must send those we kill on the path, or they cannot leave.”

Julius rubbed his eyes. When had he last slept? He struggled to find words to appease the man.

“I will return to the foot of the mountains with my men. It would be an honor to have you join me there.

We will feast then and toast the dead.” He saw Mhorbaine look speculatively at the retreating column and continued, his voice hardening. “The Helvetii who live are under my protection until they return to their lands. Do you understand?”

The Gaul looked doubtfully at the Roman. He had assumed the column was under guard and being taken into slavery. The idea of simply letting them go was difficult for him to take in.

“Under your protection?” he repeated slowly.

“Believe me when I say that whoever attacks them will be my enemy,” Julius replied.

After a pause, Mhorbaine shrugged, running a hand over his beard. “Very well, Caesar. I will ride ahead with my personal guard and be there to meet you as you come in.”

Julius clapped him on the shoulder, turning away. He saw Mhorbaine was watching in fascination as Julius nodded to the cornicens. The notes blared out across the plain and six legions turned on the spot.

The soft earth trembled and Julius grinned as they marched away in perfect lines, leaving Mhorbaine and the Aedui behind. As they entered the tree line at the edge of the plain, Julius called Brutus to him.

“Pass the word. I will not be beaten home. We march through the night and will feast when we get there.” Julius knew the men would accept the challenge, no matter how exhausted they were. He sent the Tenth to the front to set the pace.

As dawn came, the six legions crossed the last crest before the Roman settlement at the foot of the Alps. The men had jogged and marched for more than forty miles, and Julius was just about finished. He had marched every step of the way with his men, knowing his example would force them to keep going.

Such small things mattered to those he led. In spite of their blisters, the men gave a ragged cheer at the sight of the sprawling buildings, moving easily into the faster pace for the last time.

“Tell the men they have eight hours of sleep and a feast to bulge their bellies when they wake. If they’re as hungry as I am, they won’t want to wait, so have cold meat and bread served to them to take the edge off. I am proud of them all,” Julius said to his scouts, sending them away to the other generals. He wondered idly whether his legions would have proved a match for the armies of Sparta, or Alexander. He would have been surprised if they hadn’t been able to run the legs off them, at least.

By the time Mhorbaine reached the same crest with fifty of his best fighters, the sun was above the horizon and Julius was sound asleep. Mhorbaine reined in there, looking at the changes the Romans had wrought. The dark wall they had built curved north into the distance, a slash in the fertile landscape.

Everywhere else he could see was being transformed into squares of buildings, tents, and dirt roads.

Mhorbaine had crossed the legion trail a few miles before, but he was still astonished to see the reality.

Somehow, he had been left behind in the darkness. He leaned on his saddle horns and looked back at the massive figure of his champion, Artorath.

“What a strange people they are,” he said.

Instead of replying, Artorath squinted behind them.

“Riders coming,” he said. “Not ours.”

Mhorbaine turned his horse and looked back down the gently sloping hill. After a while, he nodded.

“The other leaders are gathering to see this new man in our land. They will not be pleased that he beat the Helvetii before they could get here.”