Author’s Note

 

Book six was a tough prospect, and I hope the result is what readers of the series had hoped. In general theme, there was always a plan with this book and the next to pull back from the political and personal troubles in Rome and return to the war in Gaul as a main focus, in anticipation of the coming great events of 52BC. It was, however, simply unfeasible to return to the familiar military dynamic of the first few books. Too many chasms in relationships needed to be bridged following the dramatic events of books four and five, and so book six was naturally destined to be the connection between them, where things are returned to ‘normal’.

And it has happened. Now, Fronto will return to command of the Tenth in time for the climax of the war and one of the most dramatic battles in the history of Rome. Priscus is in position, Antonius has joined the fold, Crassus is gone and the stage is set.

The theme of this novel, as you are now well aware, was the hunt for Ambiorix. This is a personal decision. I examined in detail the events of 53BC when planning the book and made a conscious decision to focus on one aspect of the year and push others into the background. It had to be done. For those of you who’ve not read Caesar’s commentaries, I’ll try and explain why. To those who have, I suspect it will be self-evident.

Caesar’s sixth book (released into the public that same year, we believe) is the weakest, shortest, and least realistic of all his works. It reads partially as a catalogue of failures and half-successes, and partially as a rambling diatribe on the mystical and socio-political nature of the barbarian. It has all the hallmarks of a work that was put together in a hurry, using pointless filler and hearsay to pad out what would otherwise be a tiny work with little merit.

Book 6 of Caesar’s commentaries tells us of his punitive campaigns against the Belgae, which are brutal and have long-lasting effects. It is believed that it took over a generation for the region to even remotely recover and achieve a basic liveable sustainability. Caesar systematically works through the tribes, flattening them without any great notable battle or siege, while to the south Labienus achieves victory after victory in his name. Then, Caesar decides to cross the Rhine once more and disappears into the Suevi woodlands.

At this point, Caesar for some obscure reason (simply: it must be to pad out the work and provide a point to his abortive journey) goes off on a rambling description of the Gauls and Germans, their social stratigraphy, their nature and culture, and – most pointlessly – a description of the massive German forest, even including a number of fantastic, mythical creatures. While the information he imparts is extremely valuable in terms of historical information, it has little bearing on the book and sits strangely in the midst of a running diary. In short, in turning this book into a workable Fronto novel, I had to pull the text apart, make some assumptions and, most important of all, ignore large quantities of drivel.

After a short, abortive time in the German forests, Caesar changes his mind, returns across the river and begins the hunt for Ambiorix properly. I have expanded upon this somewhat by making Ambiorix and a vow of Caesar’s the main reason behind the punitive campaigns also. Caesar’s work tells us that, despite everything, he fails to capture Ambiorix and it is assumed that the fugitive manages to cross the Rhine to the Germans. He disappears from history at this point in a shroud of mystery.

I chose to provide an answer to what happened to the man, as well as a feasible reason why it was not reported.

Fronto’s part in this hunt is of course fiction, but at least one scene in it is drawn from record. Basilus and his cavalry really did happen on Ambiorix quite by chance in the Ardennes and really did miss capturing him by a hair’s breadth. Cativolcus is noted to have committed suicide by the poison of the yew. That Fronto could have been there was too good an opportunity to miss.

And that leads me neatly to Vercingetorix and the whole conspiracy.

In the original texts, the years leading up to the great revolt see a number of lesser revolutions, some of which were more successful than others. Nowhere does it state that Vercingetorix and the druids had been in league, secretly developing a plan for outright revolt over years. In fact, the obvious conclusion from the text is that the great Gallic hero did not actually arise until between books 6 & 7, largely as a reaction to events that left Caesar in difficulty. It would be a rebellion of convenience.

I chose a few books back to see the ‘great revolt’ as the climax of an ongoing conspiracy rather than a rash reaction, and I stand by that, regardless of any criticism I may receive for straying from Caesar’s words. Vercingetorix is, to France and the Gauls, a great hero. Their Churchill or Joan of Arc… their Robin Hood. And such a man deserves more than: ‘Caesar’s busy? Right. Get some swords, lads – we’re going to kick some Roman bottom!’ In fact, Vercingetorix is to some extent my Anti-Caesar. He is a man of no small talent and of huge charisma.

In short, small liberties have been taken in order to provide a novel with a tighter plot and a realistic premise, rather than a bunch of half-arsed village burnings, a holiday in a German forest, some drug-induced hallucinations of mythical beasts, a fruitless hunt, and an almost-accidental revolt.

I have played with some locations, too. There is ongoing discussion about Aduatuca/Atuatuca, and its proposed sites, as well as the nature of the Aduatuci in relation to the Eburones. I chose to solve the problem by making there two of them and making Sabinus and Cotta’s camp nothing to do with either. After all, Atuatuca is a name that means fortress, supposedly, and there is more than one Roman ‘Chester’ so why not more than one Atuatuca? Some places required their Belgic names to be constructed. Dinant in Belgium is at least presumed to be the sacred valley of Divo-Nanto. But Espaduno, for instance, is my construction for the ancient name of Spa in Belgium. Should you wish to examine the site of Basilus’ folly in the book, look for aerial views of Spa. The towns of the Nervii that are besieged are Celtic oppida, and Asadunon is my creation for the oppidum of Asse, while Avenna is my creation for Avesnelles. We won’t even go into the nature of the locations of the Menapii, since they cover the very north of Belgium and into the Netherlands, and the systematic drainage and reclamation of those lands have rendered it impossible to gain a reasonable picture of what it would have been like when it was marshy and swampy.

Last but not least on my list of deviations from the norm are the singulares.

A Praetor in times of war would in Republican days have a personal bodyguard (Caesar’s cavalry under Ingenuus) and this is the basis for the eventually-notorious Praetorian guard. Generals and emperors are noted to have had ‘singulares’ bodyguards in later eras and, while there is no direct reference to their existence in the late republic, there is also no definitive work that denies their existence, and there may be (my thanks to the knowledgeable Mike Bishop for producing fragments of texts for me) hints that such a things happened. I have chosen to make it somewhat optional and mutable, as was the case with so many things in this era of change. Fronto needed his singulares to go hunting with, and Masgava and Palmatus needed a job.

And before I metaphorically ‘down pen’ I will confirm the next step in the saga. Marius’ Mules VII is set for roughly a year from this day – give or take – but as you will be aware from the last chapters and the epilogue of this book, there are a number of events that may need a little extra coverage before I get my teeth into the great revolt. As such, I intend in the next few months to release a collection of short tales under the title ‘Marius’ Mules: Prelude to War’. This will provide a bridge, covering a few of the events of winter 53/52BC in detail. I will, of course, cover the same ground in extremely brief form at the start of the next book, but for those wishing to delve into the detail, I feel it is a project worth the effort.

As usual, thanks for reading thus far and I hope you enjoyed book six with its fights, betrayals, conspiracies, prophecies, hunts and… and its bats!. Fronto is an old friend now, and I look on him with immense fondness, all the more so since only a day ago, the great Peter O’Toole passed away, and his Flavius Silva in ‘Masada’ (1981) is one of the main influences in my portrayal of Fronto. It feels like half of Fronto has just vanished. Dis Manibus Flavius Silva. Enjoy Elysium.

 

Fronto will be back to confront the Gauls in their greatest moment.

 

Until then, thank you everyone and have a good year.

 

Simon Turney

 

December 2013