S. Turney: The conquest of Gaul

“Gentlemen, the Helvetii are moving. The whole tribe.” At a gesture from Caesar, his servant unrolled a map on the low table between them all. The map covered the territories of Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul and the surrounding areas.

“As you can see, the Helvetii are bordered to the east by Lake Geneva. To the north lie the Rhine and the powerful German tribes. To the west there is only a narrow route between the Jura Mountain and the Rhone, through unstable territory held by other tribes. And of course, to the south: Rome. Wherever the Helvetii plan to go, if they are bringing their whole tribe and all of their possessions, they cannot realistically attempt any route other than through our lands. They have two days’ advantage on us if we want to meet them in battle in open land, but they are burdened and slow. I will be leaving for Geneva some time tomorrow morning, and taking a few key personnel with me. I have sent word to Massilia to have the Eighth Legion march and they will meet me there. The three legions here will move out two days after I do, and will make for Vienna on the Rhone. They will wait there as long as necessary until I send the signal. The force I shall take to Geneva should be more than sufficient to turn the Helvetii away, given the terrain. I want the other legions in reserve at Vienna as a reserve in case the Helvetii make their way around us, and in such as position as to be able to move anywhere along or across the border in the shortest time possible” Caesar sat back, while the others continued to pore over the map.

Fronto frowned and leaned forward.

“Sir. If, as you say, the Helvetii are coming south, why do we need to keep reserves? Surely we would be better on the forced march to Geneva with you. Then we could meet them in open battle straight away and finish them.”

Caesar smiled.

“Fronto, I have planned ahead. One legion and associated auxiliaries should be able to hold them off at Geneva should they not acquiesce to our demands. After that, they will have no choice but to head west along the river and the Roman military will be waiting there for them too. I shouldn’t worry too much about missing all the fun, Marcus, as you’re one of the key personnel I’m taking with me to Geneva.” He turned back to the others.

“On a more personal note, the Helvetii are one of the most powerful tribes in all the Gauls, and have become complacent and over-familiar in recent years. They constantly cross our border in small groups for mercantile reasons. They seem to have no respect for the frontier and no fear of the might of Rome. Regardless of the tribe’s intentions, I will not countenance their crossing into Roman territory and, should they make any attempt to do so, I will meet such a move with equal force.”

Caesar’s voice began to drone in the ears of Fronto. He spent some time calculating the amount of time he’d now spent awake. It was, by his rough estimate, somewhere around four in the morning. He had been up at dawn to oversee the drill on the siege engines and had eaten only once, at lunchtime, despite the tasty morsels being offered at the briefing. Moreover, the other officers had caught up on at least an hour, as had the general himself. Almost twenty four hours solid. No wonder things were starting to run together. With a start, Fronto realised his hand had slipped sideways and dark wine had dripped onto his cloak. Prying his eyes open, he forced himself to concentrate on the commander. With a second jolt, he realised that the General had finished.

Caesar leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I think that’s all, gentlemen… unless there’s anything you wish to ask?” The officers remained silent, some shaking their heads until, at a dismissive gesture from the General, they bowed in turn and made their way out of the tent.

As Fronto stood and bowed, trying hard not to let the ornate cloak fall over his head, Caesar gestured to one side. Obediently, Fronto stepped to the side of the tent and waited until the other officers had filed out. With a word, the general also dismissed the two servants, who left through a different flap and into separate quarters. Once they were alone, Caesar heaved a sigh of relief and gestured Fronto back to a chair.

“For the sake of all that’s good and sacred, Fronto, please take that cloak off. It’s as distracting for me as it is annoying for you.” Caesar reached down to the table by his side and poured two more goblets of wine. Fronto set his eyes on the goblet as he unfastened the last catch of the cloak, and wondered exactly how much wine he had drunk tonight. Certainly more than he should have done on a duty night. And yet his head felt surprisingly clear, if tired, perhaps due to all the exercise, concentration and fresh air. With a smile, he let the cloak drop to the floor and accepted the goblet. Almost as an afterthought, and with pictures of an irate sister swimming in his head, he retrieved the cloak, folded it carefully and placed it by his side.

“Caesar, I appreciate, as always, your private invitation to talk, but I really should be returning to the Tenth and having them stand to.”

The General cast his eyes over the slightly ruffled officer and a smile played around his lips.

“Marcus, how long have we known each other now? I would think the best part of ten years, yes?”

Fronto nodded. “I would think so sir, yes.”

“In all the time I have seen you in command of a unit, that unit has never been unprepared for anything. I would lay a hefty wager that the Tenth are already standing to. It’s not entirely unreasonable to suspect that your juniors are already having the tents pulled down and stowed. I’m well aware that you were half-expecting something like this tonight, especially since you were standing outside in answer to my summons almost before I had sent it. That Priscus is a good man. If only he were a man of standing and property, he would be a good choice, I think, to step into your shoes when you try for Senatorial power.”

Fronto growled; a low growl, but nevertheless, Caesar must have heard it. “I’ll never make a politician. I don’t have your gift with people.”

Caesar smiled. “No, perhaps not. But your family will never rest until you achieve some kind of position. Still, in time we may be able to do something about that. You stick with me Marcus, and we’ll both go a long way.”

The General stood for a moment and wandered around the tent, casually pausing by the main door and glancing out into the night, before letting the flap fall closed.

“There is no doubt in my mind Marcus that you are exceptionally intelligent and astute for a ‘career’ soldier. I tend to keep an eye on your behaviour, as it tells me whether I am being too open or too closed, too friendly or too harsh. I also understand that you either know or suspect a great many things that have flown like a flock of geese over the heads of the rest of my command. The time has come to be very frank in our discussions, Marcus. If you will talk straight with me, I will extend you the same courtesy.”

Fronto’s eyes darted around the tent nervously. This was the sort of situation that had seen a number of loud-mouthed officers fall from grace in the past few decades. Still, he had known Caesar for a long time, and better to open oneself than to be thought secretive.

“Very well sir.”

Caesar once more took his seat, and refilled the goblets. “Tell me what you suspect and I will confirm and clarify for you.”

Fronto swallowed and took a deep breath. “Here we go,” he thought, “time to leap from the Tarpeian Rock.” He leaned forward to narrow the distance between the General and himself and spoke in a low, conspiratorial voice.

“General, we go to war against the Helvetians tomorrow, do we not? I know there is a thin veil of embassy over the campaign, but let’s see this as soldiers. I cannot believe that you have set up this elaborate trap for anything less than a definitive military action. Permit me to speak very freely, sir?”