Free Marius' Mules VI: Caesar's Vow by S.J.A. Turney Page A

battle, a distinct gap separating the two groups.
    ‘Slow down,’ Labienus commanded the party. ‘Let’s give the man time to come out the front and talk to us. I’ve no intention of riding through or past his army to open negotiations.’
    ‘Seems little point in talking to them at all, as far as I can see, sir,’ one of the tribunes chimed in.
    ‘I agree that little is likely to come from it other than a little name calling,’ Labienus smiled, ‘but I have some of our most important local nobles with us and I want them to get a good look at this force of vagabonds and murderers so they remember just why they’re here when the fighting starts.’
    Baculus nodded his agreement and the party slowed. ‘It looks to me very much like the goat-buggerer has no intention of moving.’
    The tribunes, frowning at the language, turned to look disapprovingly at Baculus, though Labienus simply nodded, used to the senior centurion’s outspoken tongue. ‘I suspect you’re right, centurion. It looks like there will be no parlay today.’
    ‘Then why are we still riding towards them, sir?’ the inquisitive junior tribune hazarded.
    ‘Tell him, Baculus.’
    The centurion rubbed his grey, sweating forehead. ‘Because it’s how things are done in a civilised war, and we want the local royalty to see us as the righteous ones. We do things by the rules and then when the Treveri and their hired bandits fail to meet our standards, the locals will see what they’re facing and steel themselves a little.’
    ‘Precisely. Now we’re close enough that our allied volunteers can see the quality of the shaved apes at the front of Indutiomarus’ force. Our friends can see that these men are killers, bandits, rapists, thieves and the like, and the sight will confirm what we initially informed them, sealing them to our cause.’
    Baculus shook his head slightly as they approached. ‘Something bothers me though, sir. Their army’s more than twice the size of ours and the way it’s formed it should be even less organised and disciplined than usual. And yet look: there’s a gap between the front rank of mercenaries and the rear where the Treveri wait. Why? It’s not like they use our tactics? They’re not going to rotate the ranks during battle, so why the gap?’
    The officers and their escort rode slowly towards the line of waiting Gauls, close enough now to pick out the armour and the torcs and arm rings of the warriors, to see their spiked hair and drooping moustaches. Close enough that if Baculus had a rock in his hand, he…
    ‘Retreat!’ he shouted at the party. The tribunes and the commander turned to face him, frowns creasing their foreheads. Baculus was already turning his beast.
    ‘Back to the camp!’ he yelled. Labienus turned his frown on the enemy in time to see the front ranks crouch or bow, the gap between the two infantry forces suddenly filling as the archers and slingers that had hidden there rose to their feet, weapons in hand.
    ‘Mars protect us!’ barked the legate in consternation as enemy weapons were discharged with the hiss and hum of airborne arrows and the zip and whine of sling stones.
    Three of the escort cavalrymen, used to manoeuvring their horses in battle, charged forward to protect Labienus, arriving just in time to take half a dozen strikes to their shields that were meant for the Roman commander. Labienus looked in grateful surprise at the three men as he turned his horse to retreat. Two of the men bore the professional straight faces of career cavalrymen. The third tried to smile, but a torrent of crimson erupted from his mouth and he slumped forward over his saddle, his shield falling to the grass below. Two arrows jutted from his back between the shoulder blades where they had ripped straight through the mail with the force of a short-distance blow, and a third stood proud from the back of his neck, driven in so far it had almost emerged from his windpipe.
    Labienus rode for the camp,