S. Turney: The Belgae

“Well I cannot see the legion number on the flags, but all of Caesar’s legions bear the Taurus emblem. Those flags seem to have horses.”

Fronto boggled at him.

“You can’t see how many ‘I’s are on the flag, but at that distance you can distinguish between quadrupeds?”

“It’s a simple matter of shape, Fronto. In fact, those symbols look a lot more like Gaulish ones than Roman.”

“Let’s get to the bottom of this!”

Without waiting for the other three, Fronto started striding purposefully out from the path in the direction of the approaching legionaries. After a minute, he became aware that the others had caught up, Crispus coming alongside in a vaguely undignified scurry, Balbus lagging a little, and Balventius striding calmly along.

The insignia became gradually clearer as the four approached and, once he finally picked out the detail, Fronto came to a sudden halt, as did his companions.

The legionaries in front of him were marching not in one column, as it appeared at a distance, but in two, each column with a width of six men and trailing off like a glinting armoured ophidian. The arms are armour they bore were shiny and new, the shields devoid of any marks, and the banners…

Two new insignia, both with some kind of Celtic-style horse, fluttered below the numbers XIII and XIIII.

“New legions?” Crispus’ tone echoed Fronto’s own surprise.

The column was not being led, as was customary, by the officers, but by the signifers, the eagle standards, and the musicians. The officers were riding alongside in a small knot, with the cavalry stretched out behind them.

Fronto stepped to one side so as not to impede the army, but rather to stand in the way of the command unit. As he placed his fists on his hips in a haughty gesture, he was further surprised at the commands being barked at the men by the lower officers. There was no doubt at all about what he heard. Those commands were issued in fluent Latin, but with a pronounced Gaulish accent. He was still staring in disbelief at the passing legions when he became aware that his three companions had joined him and the command staff had reined in before them. He looked up.

“Fronto! You look bloody disgraceful!”

Quintus Pedius, one of Caesar’s senior staff stared down at him and a slow smile began to creep across his face.

“Not that that’s anything new, of course!”

“Ha, bloody, ha! What the hell’s going on? Why are you dressing up the auxilia as legionaries?”

Pedius gave him a sharp glance.

“You’d be well advised to sheath that mouth of yours, Marcus.”

The staff officer turned to the tribunes behind him.

“Menenius? Hortius? Get the legions to the nearest appropriate flat ground, preferably between these other encampments and have a temporary camp set up for each. Once they’re settling and underway, I want the two of you at the headquarters. Report to me there!”

The two men saluted and rode off to find the primus pilus of each legion. As they went about their business, Pedius dismounted and gestured toward the bridge. As the four officers walked steadily back along their track and the distance between the five men and the legions increased, the staff officer handed his reins to Crispus and removed his helmet with a sigh of relief.

“I need a bath and a shave. And a jug of wine, but that can wait until I’ve had the bath and the shave. But sadly, both of those will have to wait until I visit the headquarters. Are you gentlemen accompanying me?”

Balbus nodded.

“We were on our way there anyway.”

“Good. Now, Fronto, what’s irritated you?”

The dishevelled legate scratched his bristly chin.

“They’re Gauls. They’re not Romans, Quintus… they’re Gauls! What are they doing in legionary equipment? When the ordinary soldiers find out about this there’ll be riots. It demeans the whole purpose of the legion. That’s what the auxilia is for !”

Pedius sighed.

“Calm down Fronto. You’re going to have a fit if you go on like this.”

“Well?”

Balventius nodded. “It’s true sir. This is the citizen army. It’s against the rules to enlist foreigners into it. There’ll be hell!”

Pedius shook his head.

“It’s all above board, gentlemen. I can tell you some of it, but not all. Present company, you see?”

He indicated Balventius, though respectfully.

Balbus shook his head.

“My primus pilus is as solid as they come. Caesar tried to make him camp prefect, remember? Anything you can say in front of us, you can say in front of him!”

Pedius regarded Balventius for a long minute and then nodded his head.

“Very well. This is in strictest confidence. I expect the general will put some spin on it for the public, but some of you will know there’s more anyway. You remember that tribune who stirred things up in Vesontio last summer?”

“Salonius? Yes. He scurried off back to Rome with his tail between his legs as I remember.”

“He did.” Pedius lowered his voice fractionally.

“But Caesar thinks the man’s been carrying on his campaign of disruption in political circles back in Rome. The general has been blocked with almost every political move he makes. Finally we managed to find out where we could get to Salonius in private to ‘have a little word’ and before we turned up someone knifed him and tipped him in the Tiber. Pickpockets was the official line, but that’s unlikely.”

Crispus bore a shocked look. Pedius sighed.

“A man called Clodius, who seems to have a network of spies and an almost unlimited chest of gold, is stirring things up in Rome like a madman. And not just against Caesar, but against Crassus and Pompey too. The general thinks Salonius was an agent of this Clodius.”

They begun the descent toward the bridge and Pedius took a deep breath.

“Caesar needs some serious victories and a lot of money. He owes important men, but more importantly, he’s losing political ground. He requested permission of the senate to raised new legions in Cisalpine Gaul. The senate actually refused him. I’m sure you can imagine how that went down!”

Fronto winced, glad he hadn’t been there for that meeting, and Pedius continued.

“So Caesar did what he does best. He found a way around the rules.”

Fronto issued a small half-smile.

“I think I can see where this is going…”

Pedius nodded.

“Caesar managed to have the Helvetii, the Aedui and a few of the smaller allied tribes classed as Foederati. If they’re treaty-bound with Rome their men can theoretically be enlisted into the legions. It’s not common and not popular, and it’s a very grey area legally, but it can certainly be done. They wouldn’t let Caesar raise citizen troops from Cisalpine Gaul, so he used his own authority to raise two new legions from our allies; mainly the ones who speak Latin, though. They’re now Roman citizens. There’s been a shit storm over it in Rome and Caesar’s just dealing with the aftermath before he joins us.”

Fronto nodded.

“We think we know what the general’s planning; if it’s true he might well need those two new legions.”

Pedius nodded.

“Best go see Labienus and inform him of events then.”

Fronto nodded as he watched the new ‘Gaulish’ legions marching across the hill toward the camps. There was no doubt the Gauls fought fiercely, but should they be legions? He couldn’t shake the feeling there was trouble in his near future.

(Vesontio)

“ Praetor: a title granted to the commander of an army. cf the Praetorian Guard.”

As the party of officers strode across the square to the main building that had been commandeered by Caesar for his headquarters almost a year ago, Fronto became acutely aware of how scruffy he must look compared with the others. Pedius had just arrived from over two hundred miles of travel with his legions and he was parade-smart. Fronto had been here for hours and still looked like he’d been dragged behind a horse. And his sister wondered why he failed in politics!