“How long before the ships are built, though?” Renius asked.
“They will be ready by next spring, if I can find funds to pay for them. I have written to request the Senate take on the burden of paying for our new legions. Crassus has assured me he will make the loan if the Senate fails us, but there is every reason to suppose they are pleased with our progress here. Perhaps too, the winter will not be so hard this year and we can make our preparations in the dark months.”
Julius drummed his fingers on the table.
“I have a single report from a scout on the Rhine. More of the Germanic tribes have crossed into our land and must be repulsed. I have sent five of the Aedui to confirm the sightings and bring a fresh estimate of their numbers. I will engage them before they come too far into our own land. Once they have been beaten, I plan to cross the river and pursue them as I should have done with the Suebi. I cannot allow the wild tribes over the river to attack our flanks whenever they smell a hint of weakness. I will make them a reply they will not forget in a generation and seal the Rhine behind me when I return.”
He looked around the table as they digested the news.
“We must move quickly to crush each threat as it appears. Just one more at this time and we would be stretched from one end of Gaul to another. I will take my Tenth and the Third Gallica under Brutus to the Rhine. One of the new Gaul legions will accompany us in the rear. There will be no conflict of loyalty against such an enemy. Mhorbaine has agreed to have his cavalry travel with me once again. The rest of you will act independently in my name.
“Crassus, I expect you to return to the northwest and destroy the land forces of the Veneti. Burn their ships, or at least force them off the coast and prevent them landing for supplies. Domitius, you will take the Fourth Gallica with him in support. Mark Antony, you will remain here with your legion. The Twelfth and Fifth Ariminum will stay with you. You will be my center and I expect you not to lose any of the lands we have won while I am away. Use caution, but strike if the need arises.
“The last task is an easy one, Bericus. Your Ariminum legion has earned a rest and I need a good man to oversee the new settlers coming over the Alps. The Senate will be sending four praetors to govern the new provinces, and they will need to be shown the realities of our situation here.”
Bericus groaned and rolled his eyes, making Julius laugh. The thought of having to play nursemaid to thousands of green Roman settlers was hardly an ideal appointment, but Bericus was a sound administrator and Julius had spoken the truth when he said the legion had earned a period away from the pace of constant battle they had endured.
Julius continued to give out his orders and positions until each man there knew his lines of supply and the extent of his authority. He smiled when they replied with wit and he answered every query with the complete knowledge they had come to expect from him. The legionaries claimed that he knew the name of every man under his command, and whether that was true or not, Julius had mastered every aspect of the legion life. He was never at a loss or unable to provide a quick answer to any question put to him, and it all went further to establish the confidence of the men.
Brutus looked again around the table and found nothing but determination in those who were given tasks that meant hardship, pain, and perhaps death for some or all of them. As Julius spread out his maps and began to move to the more detailed matters of terrain and supply, Brutus watched him, barely hearing the words. How many of the men in that room would see Rome again? he wondered. As Julius traced the line of the Rhine with his finger and told them his assessments, Brutus could not imagine a time when the man he followed could ever be made to stop.
CHAPTER 32
In the first autumn day of Julius’s fourth year in Gaul, Pompey and Crassus walked together through the forum, deep in conversation. Around them, the great open space at the center of the city was filled with thousands of citizens and slaves. Orators addressed those who could be persuaded to listen, and their voices carried over the heads of the crowd on a hundred different subjects.
Slaves from wealthy houses hurried through, carrying packages and scrolls for their masters. It had become fashionable to dress house slaves in bright colors, and many wore bright blue or gold tunics, a myriad of shades that wove through the darker reds and browns of workers and merchants. Armed guards made stately progress across the forum, each group surrounding their employer at the center. It was the bustling, hurried heart of the city, and neither Pompey nor Crassus noticed the subtle differences in the mood of the crowd around them.
The first Pompey knew of the trouble to come was a rough shove as one of his legionaries was knocked into him. Sheer astonishment made Pompey forget his instincts for survival, and he stopped. The crowd was thickening even as he hesitated, and the faces were ugly with intent. Crassus recovered faster and pulled Pompey toward the Senate house. If there was to be yet another riot, it was best to get clear as quickly as possible and send the guards out to restore order.
The space around the senators was filled with pushing, jeering men. A stone flew over their heads and struck someone else in the crowd. Pompey saw one of his lictors brought down with a blow from a length of wood and felt a moment of panic before he gathered his courage. He drew a dagger from his belt and held it blade-down so that it could be used to stab or slash. When one of the crowd pressed too close, he opened the man’s cheek without hesitation, seeing him fall back with a cry.
“Guards! To me!” Pompey roared.
The crowd bayed at him and he saw three burly men force one of his legionaries to the ground, stabbing at him over and over as they were lost to view. A woman screamed nearby and Pompey heard his call taken up by the horror-struck citizens beyond the men who were attacking him. Milo’s men, he was certain. He should have expected it after their leader’s isolation in the Senate, but Pompey had only a handful of soldiers and lictors with him and they would not be enough. He used his dagger again and saw Crassus lash out a fist, snapping the nose of an attacker.
The lictors were armed with a ceremonial axe and rods for scourging. Once they had freed them from the bindings, the hatchets were fearsome weapons in a crowd and they literally cut a path for Pompey and Crassus toward the Senate house. Yet their numbers dwindled as knives were jabbed into them, and the circle of safety around the two senators shrank until there was almost no room for them to move in the press.
Pompey knew hope and despair in the same moment when he heard horns sounding across the forum.
His legion had turned out for him, but it would be too late. Fingers yanked cruelly at his toga and he sliced his dagger into them, sawing in a frenzy until they fell away. Crassus was knocked from his feet by another stone, and Pompey dragged him up and onward, holding him close as the older man gathered his wits.
There was blood on his mouth.
The noise hammered at them and then changed slightly. New faces appeared in even greater numbers and Pompey saw them cut down the ones who struggled to reach him. Knots of bellowing men separated from the mass, fighting not as legionaries but with cleavers and meathooks and stones held in their hands.
Pompey saw one man’s face smashed into pulp by repeated blows before he fell.
All forward movement ceased and though Pompey could see the steps of the Senate house only a short distance away, it was too far. He jabbed his dagger into everything he could reach in a fury and didn’t know he was shouting in a mindless rage.