Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (26 page)

Balbus’
reserve force would be precious little help. The Thirteenth and
Fourteenth Legions were still mostly on the north bank, a small
group desperately trying to create a bridgehead at the far side in
the face of many thousands of barbarians. They were failing
dismally. If Crassus or Caesar had been here, they would likely
have placed the blame firmly with the new, green, Gallic legions.
Fronto, on the other hand, could see this for what it was. Two
legions crammed into a narrow space, desperately attempting to
break out in the face of impossible odds, most of them still
trapped on the bridge or the near side. The Eighth or the Tenth
would be doing no better in these conditions. Had Fronto been in
charge of the Belgae, he’d now be trying to collapse the bridge,
but at least that thought seemed to have escaped the barbarian
chieftains. The bridge was big and strong, but not big enough to
carry out a battle on.

Varus had
clearly arrived just in time to get himself cut off and trapped.
His cavalry had made it across the bridge in the face of the
charging barbarians and were now milling about in the middle
distance on the edge of the Belgic army, too isolated to try
anything truly useful. As Fronto watched, he could see them doing
what they could to harry the enemy, skirmishing and casting
javelins into the middle of the mass, but little they could achieve
would make any real difference without infantry support. At best
they would annoy the Belgae and whittle down their numbers a
little.

The way things
were currently going, the fort would fall to the Belgae in around
thirty minutes, the dead would pile up at the far end of the bridge
and the legions would remain blocked up until it finally occurred
to the barbarians to destroy the entire structure, drowning a few
hundred legionaries and rendering the rest ineffective. The cavalry
would engage in quick bursts, but once the Belgae completely held
the far bank and had rendered the river uncrossable they would turn
and massacre Varus and his men before waiting for Caesar to
arrive.

A
disaster.

Fronto paced
along the crest as his missile units began to fall into formation,
the rear ranks still arriving. Something had to be done, and fast.
Damn it!

A familiar
voice called out from nearby.

“
Looks like shit, sir, eh?”

Fronto turned
to see prefect Pansa shading his eyes and taking in the scene.

“
This makes shit look good, Pansa. Got any ideas?”

The prefect
shook his head.

“
We can start picking them off from here with arrows, slingshot
and spears, but it’s going to be like being bothered by insects for
that lot. No way can we make a difference in time to save
anyone.”

Decius came to
a halt nearby.

“
Going to have to widen the crossing so our legions can get
over.”

Fronto turned
in surprise.

“
How the hell do you propose that?”

Decius
shrugged. “I really don’t know, but that’s what we’ve got to do. If
we can get more men over there, we can create a proper bridgehead.
If that happened, they could then force the Belgae back between the
bridge and the fort and start setting up a proper line while
everyone else crossed. After that, it’s battle as usual.”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
Makes sense, I suppose, but it doesn’t solve how we get more
men across.” He frowned as he looked down at the chaos. “Rafts?
Boats?”

Decius shook
his head.

“
Too slow. We’d have to build the rafts and then only a few
could cross at a time. Sabinus would be dead long before we could
get there.”

Somebody
noisily cleared their throat so close behind Fronto that he jumped
slightly. He turned to see prefect Galeo staring off toward the
huge camp above them, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“
Would you kindly not sneak up on me like that!” he snapped at
the prefect.

“
Hmm? Oh, sorry sir. Think I’ve an idea.”

The other
three officers turned to him.

“
You want to get the men across? Well you either have to go
over, which means a bridge or boats… or you just move the
river.”

“
What?”

“
A dam” the prefect replied, still staring up at the
camp.

Decius
smiled.

“
Go on, Galeo.”

“
Well… I reckon that bridge we built down there is good and
strong. It was built to support the weight of several loaded supply
carts. The piers of the bridge are quite close together.” He
pointed up at the stockade atop the camp’s rampart. “And we’ve got
a massive ready supply of great big logs.”

Fronto
frowned.

“
That’s bloody dangerous. What happens if we break the bridge?
Then we’ve done their job for them.”

Decius nodded.
“That’s not the only danger. What if you succeed and the water
level rises enough to reach the bridge and flows over the
bank?”

Galeo
smiled.

“
Then a hundred thousand Belgae drown. Doesn’t sound like a
problem to me.”

Fronto’s face
slowly split into a smile.

“
Galeo, you clever bugger, you! You’re in charge of the
dismantling. Get the Gaesati up there and start work tearing down
the stakes... they can’t hit the Belgae from here anyway.” He
turned to the others.

“
Get all the archers and slingers concentrating on that mass of
Belgae near the bridge. Send any spearmen up to Galeo. I’m going to
find some men from the Thirteenth or Fourteenth to
help.”

As the prefect
started shouting out commands, Fronto descended the slope toward
the bridge. The journey was short but perilous, with rabbit holes
pock-marking the steep turf incline to trip the unwary, and his
ankle occasionally giving a little ‘twang’ of pain. As he slid and
ran he took note of the disposition of the legions.

Balbus had led
the Thirteenth into the front. In fact, as he carefully scanned the
other end of the bridge, he could occasionally spot the legate’s
plume bobbing around amid the violence. He shook his head. Balbus
used to be careful and command from a position of safety. The
longer he spent with Fronto and Crispus and the others, the more
reckless he was becoming. Still marshalled on this side of the
bank, hanging back from the action, were the Fourteenth. As he
watched, occasional pila arced out from the reserve legion toward
the Belgae on the far bank, falling harmlessly into the swift
current.

“
Men of the Fourteenth!” he called forcefully as he finally
reached the shore level.

The
legionaries turned and the nearest men saluted.

“
The next soldier who throws a pilum into that river will have
one jammed up his arse. Don’t waste weaponry. And I know some of
you don’t understand me, so if you do, make sure you pass that
on!”

A plume
wobbled around at the far side and then a gap opened in the lines
as Plancus, red-faced and angry, strode back towards him.

“
What do you think you’re doing, Fronto? These are my men, and
I ordered them to harass the enemy with javelins.”

Fronto
growled.

“
Most of them can’t even get half way across, Plancus. No one
stands a chance of hitting a barbarian. Save your weapons. We’re
going to pull off a little trick in a few minutes and give you men
a chance to get across and into the action. When we do, get over
there and help solidify that bridgehead and drive a connecting line
to the fort.”

The legate
stared at him.

“
Look, Plancus. This is your first command and your first
action. I know they’re your men, but I’ve been commanding legions
for twenty years. Take my advice and use it.”

The young
officer glared for a moment and then nodded.

“
Where do want me and what signal will you give?”

Fronto
pointed.

“
Form up on the downriver side of the bridge, about twenty men
abreast. You’ll know when to go, if this works.”

Plancus
saluted stiffly, and Fronto gave him a half-hearted response.

As the young
officer began to manoeuvre his legion, Fronto pushed further
through to the rear of the Thirteenth Legion, massed around the
bridge and waiting to cross.

“
Any of you lot engineers?”

The men of the
Thirteenth looked around in surprise and saluted the senior
officer.

“
Come on, come on…” he shouted.

A stocky
legionary at the rear with an extremely unfashionable but plainly
Gallic beard shrugged, the braids at the side of his head scraping
along the edge of his helmet. In a fairly thick Gallic accent, he
spoke up.

“
Had some training sir. A few of us have, but we’ve not really
had the chance to put it to use.”

Fronto grinned
at him. “That’s about to change, soldier. Get a dozen or so good
men together and come with me.”

As soon as the
Gaulish legionary and a few of his compatriots reached him and
saluted, Fronto pointed up to the camp, where several sections of
palisade had already visibly gone.

“
Up there, come on.”

Half a minute
later, he reached the top of the slope with his party. The new
recruits of the Thirteenth looked on with interest as an officer
and a number of ebony-skinned auxiliaries worked on dismantling the
legions’ camp. The engineer frowned as he saw two of the palisade
stakes dropped to the ground and let roll down the hill where they
disappeared into the river with a splash.

“
What are they doing, sir?”

Fronto pointed
at the stockade.

“
We’re going to roll the timber down into the river to dam it
at the bridge.”

“
That won’t work, sir.”

Fronto turned
on him. “Why not?”

“
Well, the timbers are big enough, sir, but they’ll just bounce
around on the surface and some will just float under the bridge
end-on. It just won’t work, sir… take it from me.”

The legate
fumed, rubbing his temples. “Well we’ve got to do it somehow.”

The legionary
shrugged.

“
It’s vaguely possible we could drop a section of the palisade
as it is down from the bridge? That would dam the river pretty
well.” He frowned. “But can I ask what you’re wanting to dam the
river for, sir?”

Fronto pointed
at the Fourteenth Legion, lining up on the bank downstream of the
bridge.

“
Need to lower the water level so the legions can cross in
bulk, rather than jammed tightly onto that bridge.”

Again, the
legionary shook his head.

“
But if you dam the river at the bridge, sir, with that
current, you’ll only have a couple of minutes, and then the river
will flood the flat land above the bank before flowing back round
the dam. Basically you’ll be putting the entire battlefield
ankle-deep in water and mud, and there’ll still only be time to run
a few men across. And think of how dangerous the river bed might
be, sir? Could be deep mud.”

Fronto rounded
angrily on him with a growl.

“
Then what do you suggest? I’m running out of time very
quickly, and you’re just tearing down any idea we have.”

The legionary
frowned. “We’ll just have to go over the river, sir. Safer, dryer,
and probably quicker.”

“
What? How?”

The man
gestured at the palisade.

“
If we stop tearing them apart, you can see the stockade is
already solidly bound. The whole thing is tightly-roped together.
Standing upright, it’s a stockade. Lay it flat, sir, and it becomes
a bridge.”

Fronto
blinked. “That’s genius! Can you do it?”

The legionary
tapped his chin.

“
I’d say we want ninety feet of stockade to be sure we reach
across. We want to check the rope binding and maybe strengthen or
repair it where needed. Then several men are going to have to
cross, dragging one end by ropes. Then they have to secure it to
the bank. They can do that using some of these stakes that have
already been dismantled. Then men at this end haul it tight and
secure the near end. It wouldn’t take the weight of a cart, and
you’ll have to limit the number of men that cross at a time. I’d
say not more than thirty or forty. But a lot safer than a
dam.”

Fronto
grinned. “And can you do it quickly?”

The man
nodded.

“
With enough men. Give me a century and it’ll take about five
minutes to take a section down and check the bindings; then another
five to get it down the hill and into the water. Five more to get
it across and then five or ten to secure it at both ends. I’d say,
twenty or twenty-five minutes at the quickest. Is that fast enough,
sir?”

Fronto shook
his head. “Maybe… maybe not. It’ll certainly be tight.”

The legionary
shrugged again. “Can’t think of a better way, sir. The dam won’t
work, though. I do know that.”

Fronto’s brow
furrowed. “If we’re cutting it that fine, I need to get as many men
across as possible. Can you string more than one of these
across?”

“
Given enough men, I don’t see why not, sir, but the men
swimming across and securing the bridge will need to be protected
from the enemy while they work.”

Fronto
smiled.

“
Alright. Go up and explain it quickly to Galeo. Him and his
men will get started. Get three sections of palisade down. We’ll
string them across between here and Sabinus’ fort. The walls of the
fort will protect you from the enemy when you get across and you
can secure the ropes to it. Might make it quicker. We’ll give you
covering fire as you work. Once you get across, shout to the
defenders and they can take down sections of the rear wall so we
can get the legions across and straight into the fort. I’ll go back
down and send you up a cohort.”