S. Turney: The conquest of Gaul

The soldiers immediately went quietly back to work, and Priscus looked down at one of his helpers.

“How many does that make so far, Nonus?”

The legionary drew the stylus down the list and looked up. “Twenty eight down and stowed, seven in progress sir.”

As Priscus opened his mouth again, he noticed Fronto standing next to one of the supply wagons with an amused look on his face. He glowered.

“With all respect sir, if you think this is funny, perhaps you’d care to have a try?”

Fronto grinned and stepped forward.

“I’ve had my fair share of this, Priscus, don’t you worry. Oh, and I think you can relax the pace a little. I’ve just been past the Ninth and they haven’t struck a single tent yet. I daresay the Tenth will be eating a hearty breakfast and relaxing on the grass while the other legions are still working. They may complain now, but they’ll be happy in the morning.”

“It is the morning. Do I take it you’d like the others rounded up sir, for a briefing?”

Fronto nodded. “I’ll be at the bath house on the edge of town. No one else here will have time to use it at the moment, and the locals don’t go at this time of night, so it seems a good place for us to have our little meeting. Get them rounded up and in the changing room in about thirty minutes.”

Priscus returned the nod. “Nonus, you take charge of this rabble for the time being. I’m going to find the other officers and go meet the legate.”

Ten minutes later the officers and senior NCOs of the Tenth met at the changing room of Cremona’s secondary bath house. The main baths were in the centre of town, in constant use by the citizens and closed late at night, but a secondary baths had been constructed outside civic limits largely for the use of the military when they came here during the summer months. This one was never closed and rarely visited by civilians, staffed only by soldiers in need of extra pay. Fronto was already lounging in the hot bath when his officers entered. At the sound of their arrival, he raised himself from the steaming water and, wrapping a towel around his waist and shuffling his feet into wooden sandals, made his way through to the steam room, beckoning to Priscus as he did.

Priscus gestured in return with the small amphora of wine he carried. “Didn’t bring any goblets sir. I presume there are some hereabouts?”

“On the table near the entrance, next to the strigils.”

The officers stripped out of their uniforms, none of them wearing armour due to the nature of their current labours and, each pouring himself a goblet of wine, made their way into the baths. No urban complex this; no perfumed Greeks here to scrape the day’s dirt away with a strigil. Three of the officers collected the scrapers from a table on their way into the steam room. Within minutes all were present among the clouds of steam, seated around the walls, with their eyes on Fronto.

“Gentlemen, you are all aware that we are about to break camp. All the legions and support units will be on the march in a couple of days. I realise that this is relatively short notice after such a prolonged period of inactivity, but it is the intention of our illustrious general to meet the Helvetii, who are of a mind to cross the borders of mighty Rome on their way to another part of gods-forsaken Gaul and are already on the move. Caesar, along with the Eighth, who are coming up from Massilia, and a few of the senior officers, will be heading for Geneva tomorrow for the initial negotiations and conflicts. The three legions here will make for Vienna and will stay there and await the almost certain arrival of the Helvetii.”

One of the centurions from the Seventh Cohort leaned forward.

“Sir, if he expects a big fight, why not take all the legions to Geneva and finish it there.”

Fronto swallowed. He knew the truth of course, but couldn’t allow word of the General’s future plans to leak out. He hated lying to his men.

“The General does not want to meet them in a defensive situation by the river. Siege warfare has rarely been a bonus for the legions. He would much rather drive them into open land and then meet them on a field where our full tactics can come into play. Caesar feels they might need to meet the full force of Rome in order to deter them and, if they will not be deterred, to chastise them appropriately. Do you all get my drift?”

The rest of the room’s occupants nodded their understanding, the gestures half-lost in the increasing steaminess of the room. Priscus was the only one to speak.

“Sir, you’ve heard about these Helvetii. They say they’re the fiercest of all the tribes in the east. They’re not going to turn round and go home, even if we put all the legions in their way. This is going to come down to a hard fight, and you know it. And I’m sure Caesar will know it. That’s why he’s preparing a trap, isn’t it?”

Fronto smiled a grim smile.

“Very astute Priscus. Yes. I think it’s safe to say there’s a fair fight coming our way in a few weeks, and I intend the Tenth to be ready for it and to do our traditional job of showing up any other unit in the campaign. To this end, I want all drills doubled, even while on the march. Every evening in camp, the men will be put through their paces. I’m afraid, however, that I’ll have to leave the details to you, Priscus. I am one of the people the General intends to take to Geneva, so you’ll all be reporting to Priscus here as senior officer. There’s a lot of upheaval coming, but I have procured for the legion twenty amphorae of good Campanian wine and two cows for butchering. At the end of every day’s march and at the end of the training sessions, the top three men will dine on choice beef and drink good wine as a reward for their efforts.”

Velius, renowned for his crude and occasionally brutal humour and his heartless training techniques, and the only officer to have brought his vine staff into the baths, looked up at his commander.

“Sir. What else? You’re not the sort of man to call a meeting in the middle of important work to give us orders you could have given in front of the men and in the morning. What’s the murderous bastard got planned for us?”

“Velius,” Fronto replied through gritted teeth, “your mouth is going to be the death of you. Regardless of your opinions, that is no way to speak of the General, and I’ll caution you against doing it again.”

He sighed and looked around.

“You are, on the other hand, entirely correct.”

“This is on a strictly need-to-know basis, and I believe Caesar would not consider it necessary for you to know. You will not, under any circumstance, pass this information on to another living soul.”

The tension in the room was tangible.

“I can’t say too much at this time, but prepare yourselves for a long and drawn-out campaign. I believe it is very unlikely indeed that we will return to Cremona in the near future, or even at all. Sell anything you can’t take tonight, and make sure the men aren’t carrying useless extras with them.”

“We’ll be going on beyond the Helvetii then? Perhaps having a go at the Gauls?” Priscus was nearing the edge of his seat, anticipation clearly audible in his voice.

“I’ll give you nothing further, but mark what I said. I don’t care if the other legions aren’t prepared and have to leave their accumulated goodies to rot in a camp they won’t be returning to, but the Tenth will be prepared for anything the General cares to throw us into.”

He turned his gaze to Velius.

“You, however, have a different job. Your optio will be commanding your century on the march. I’m afraid your training talents have been brought to the General’s attention. He’s raising two new legions here within the week. You will be assigned both of them for training. They will each be given only a partial officer staff for the time being, so you’ll be effectively in charge. As soon as you’ve got them assembled, they’re to march on Geneva and meet up with the General’s forces there. You’ll have to train them on the move and in action, I’m afraid. They’ll only receive a senior command unit when they reach Geneva.”