by C K Ruppelt
The man looked over at their table. “You are from the Ninth, right? I’d be in your debt if you could go back to camp and ask for centurion Maecius. Tell him that decanus Sextus Albatius, from the third centuria, third cohort, needs his help.” Albatius turned away to carefully clean his sword on the tunic of one of the fallen men. Several of his friends seemed to want to speak, opening their mouths but decided to stay quiet after all. Ah, nobody wants to be the one to give him the bad news about his ear.
694 AUC (60 BC), summer
Petinesca, Free Gallia, Nation of the Helvetii
“There is a young warrior here. He says he came a long way to speak to you and would not give me his name,” one of Divico’s farm hands said. “I had him wait at the hay barn.”
“Is the man thin and tall, with a slight limp?” Divico asked, receiving a confirming nod. “Thanks, I’ll go see him right away.” He grabbed a towel to wipe away his sweat and started walking from the horse corral to the barn. It was a hot day despite a layer of dramatic looking clouds, even at the mountain valley’s high elevation.
“You were gone for a long time,” he told the man before shaking his hand. He looked around and saw several of his retainers close by. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He led the way out of the homestead and onto a small trail, eventually passing through a small stand of woods. Once they came out into open cow pastures at the bottom of a hill, he looked at the vista the huge valley allowed, with massive snow-capped peaks walling its east side, and cleared his throat. “So, what did you find out?”
“I followed Orgetorix and his men into the lands of the Sequani. He met with a chieftain council member there. I am sure they made a deal, because he was in a good mood when they left and headed west.”
“West?” Divico asked in curiosity as he unconsciously twirled the ends of his enormous white mustache. How interesting. What exactly is he up to?
“Orgetorix went into the lands of the Aedui. I followed him all the way to Bibracte, where he met with an Aedui council member who is very unhappy about his fellows asking the Romans for help after the Aedui’s catastrophic loss at Magetobriga,” his spy explained. “I asked around about him. It wasn’t hard to find out about the man’s personal greed and ambition, though I had no way of finding out what your rival discussed with him or what they agreed to.”
Divico stopped to brood about the situation. He considered himself to be among the first and foremost of the Helvetii leaders, but Orgetorix was on his way to the very top. The man was just as driven as himself, and the scion of an ancient family of kings to boot. He was sure Orgetorix was already plotting to become a war king himself, the ultimate power among the nation of Helvetii. Somehow these two foreign councilors must play a role in the man’s plans, likely in how he continues to keep that power for good. But, how? How does it all fit together?
A year ago, Orgetorix had spoken to the council about the nation leaving their homelands in search of richer farmland, as they had fifty years earlier under Divico’s own leadership, but without ending in a shameful retreat from the Romans this time. Divico had immediately smelled the opportunities such a move would bring and had supported Orgetorix wholeheartedly. The motion had been carried, and a departure date set for two years from now. Swaying the council had proven much easier than expected, thanks to Divico’s many early battle successes fifty years ago, and the incessant complaints the councilors had been exposed to over the years about raiders from Germania in the north constantly visiting their people.
“There is one more interesting part of this. Orgetorix travelled to Bibracte with two of his daughters. Only one came back with him.”
Ah. That means he did indeed find a strong ally, important enough to cement the deal with his daughter’s hand.
“Did any of his men see you?” he asked his spy.
“I do not think so,” came the reply.
“Good. In that case I have more work for you,” Divico told the man while turning back toward the farmstead. “First, let’s get you paid for your good work so far.”
694 AUC (60 BC), summer
Bailenua, Free Gallia, Eastern part of the Aedui Nation
“I am so sorry about little Boud. I wish I could have come when father’s letter reached me,” Aina heard from her little brother Morcant, who put his hand on her arm. “My testing for journeyman was only a few days away, and the tests themselves take weeks.”
“I figured as much, don’t worry.” Aina sadly looked into the distance. “It was so sudden. He had a week of fever, and just when I thought he had pulled through he closed his eyes and was gone,” she explained. Her tears rolled down her face to drop onto her little daughter Nara, resting in a sling hanging from her shoulders. She hugged her precious sleeping child. “Having this little one helps take the pain, but I miss him terribly.”
After a moment of solitary silence, Morcant asked “How is Bradan holding up? I hope you two are getting along, I’ve seen many couples split over much less than the loss of your first child.”
“No complaints there, our marriage is still a happy one and we love each other. Most important to me is that he still treats me as his equal. I know how lucky I am, I’ve seen how some of my childhood friends get treated by their husbands. Bradan was very gentle and understanding after our loss, and he helps me however he can with the new baby.”
They stood on top of a hill overlooking a meadow just a mile outside of town. She adjusted little Nara’s sling a bit to position her right in front of her stomach and let her eyes scan the meadow’s edge below. Bradan, her brother Elsed, her father Drestan, her friend Rionach and many other warriors were spread out close to the foot of the hill, all holding drawn bows ready to shoot, except for three men that held long boar spears. These weapons had iron crossbars a foot behind the head, needed to keep a safe distance from dangerous tusks in case the hounds and drivers ended up flushing out a boar or two.
She focused on her attractive husband and her brother next to him, now the husband of her best friend Brenna. That at least had ended up as she had hoped for. Brenna herself had stayed home thanks to her fast-approaching due day. They would raise two children close in age. Please gods, I beg of you, let little Nara survive to become the woman she is meant to be.
She looked back at Morcant and focused on his new silver brooch pinned to the chest of his white tunic, signifying his new status of full Druid. “It’s an oak tree, right?” She saw him nod. “How long will you be able to stay home this time?”
“I am not sure. I’ll help and study with our master Druid here, but I might have to leave again if there’s a greater need somewhere else.”
“A master Druid’s knowledge. I am curious, I wish you could share something.”
Morcant smiled at her. Aina shrugged and smiled back. The druids were the most knowledgeable and also the most secretive people in Celtic society. Most often seen in their function as priests, they were also healers and scientists. The master Druids were the unchallenged leaders of society, with several of the most powerful having a seat on the Aedui nation’s council.
“I am sorry, sister.” He sighed. “I wish I could share some of my knowledge freely, I believe that could help us all. Yet, I was sworn to secrecy in front of the Aedui Druid master council, and that means never talking about our lore to anybody who is not a Druid him- or herself. Not even sweet and prodding older sisters count.” They both laughed. “I won’t be done with studying anytime soon. It will take me another decade before I get a chance at the master Druid tests. Once I am master, it will be my turn to teach the apprentices and journeymen, to make sure there are always enough holding our knowledge so none of it gets lost.”
Aina nodded. She knew what a paranoid bunch the Druids were. None of their lore was written down, oral repetition was used to teach. She looked down to the forest again. “Did you hear that? It’s not long now.” The barking of the dogs and the bells of the drivers were fast approaching, the prey was close. As she scanned the tree l
ine the first deer jump out, quickly cut down by several arrows. This left a small window for following deer and elk, and several made it through unscathed to the side of the hill. Still, about ten animals in total had been taken down. “We will have a grand feast tonight,” she stated. As they walked down the hill she remembered there was something else she wanted to ask her well-informed brother. “The council has paid the Sequani tribute for two years now. Do you think they will eventually honor our payments and stop the Suebi from raiding us and our neighbor towns? Magetobriga cost us all dearly, and if the Suebi come here, there will be no help for us from Bibracte.”
Her brother shook his head in reply. “Ariovist, the Suebi king, is a lot of trouble for the Sequani. He has settled all his tribesman in their lands, though there are always more warriors coming from Germania, and he keeps granting them all lands. I heard the last group were twenty-four thousand Harudi warriors, which means he will evict that many Sequani from their own farms. Our neighbors are cowed enough now to let the Suebi do whatever they want. I believe things will get much worse for us.”
So much for my hope for our people. “What about the Romans, are they going to help us?”
“I don’t think so. When our father’s old friend Divitiaco was Aedui Vergobret the year after Magetobriga, he sent them several requests for aid. After not receiving any replies, he even traveled to Rome himself to appeal to their Senate, making a long speech that garnered much applause and condolences from the senators, yet they never helped. Our long-standing status as friend and ally of Rome doesn’t seem worth a whole lot.” They kept walking downhill until they reached the hunters.
“Aina, we’ll have lots of meat for the feast tonight,” Bradan said, hugging her sideways as to not disturb the baby. “I can’t believe little Nara slept through it all.”
Aina warmly smiled at her man. At least some things don’t need much improving.
They walked over to her father Drestan to chat and from there on to their horses to ride back to town.
***
Aina sat at a table in the middle of the open space of the town’s great hall with her family. The festivities had been planned for months to celebrate the passing of fifteen years since the new town’s founding, or three times five, an auspicious set of numbers pleasing to the Celtic gods. Aina sat between her father Drestan and her brother Morcant, opposite of her brother Elsed who noisily ate his gamey stew, ladling meat and grains onto his piece of bread with his wooden spoon. His wife and Aina’s best friend Brenna sat next to him and currently suffered through a lecture from Morcant across the table. “Seriously, you shouldn’t do all your chores anymore this late in your pregnancy,” he told her.
Aina could see how annoyed her best friend was at Morcant’s know-it-all attitude by how she ignored him to watch their friend Rionach instead, who sat with her brother and his children and her lover Orlagh at the other end of the long table. Rionach though was completely in a world of her own, too absorbed in Orlagh to pay her any heed. I think its high time to rescue my dear friend.
“Brenna, how do you feel?” Aina asked.
Her friend leaned away from the table and shoved her empty bowl away from the table’s edge. “I feel great considering, and I can still eat for two. But my stomach is squeezed so tight I don’t know how it all fits.” Brenna’s tense features relaxed. She grinned across the table while folding her hands over her baby bump. Elsed finished his own bowl and also leaned back, reaching his right arm around Brenna to pull her closer to him.
“I sure hope this will be over soon,” he said wistfully, pointing at Brenna’s stomach. “I would like to have my wife back.” Most of the adults at the table broke out into unabashed laughter.
“Only a new husband would think to say something as stupid as that. You have much to learn!” Rionach’s brother shouted from the far end of the table. More laughter followed. Aina smiled at Elsed when she realized how out of sorts he was. I will tell you later what it means to have a newborn around. New mothers are always tired, you’ll be second priority for Brenna from here on out.
Bradan now joined the table with his own fresh bowl of stew, oblivious to the last exchange. “Nara is finally asleep. Took a long time, she slept too much during the day,” he told her before looking across the table. “Elsed, once your child is out of there,” he said, pointing at Brenna’s stomach “your life will change. You have no idea how much.”
Aina wiped the fresh tears of laughter from her eyes before lifting her drinking horn. “To family!” she shouted.
Everybody at their table lifted their horns and joined in. “To family!” All the tables in the hall followed suit.
She was content amidst her siblings, friends, and the love of her life. She put her arm around Bradan and snuggled close.
694 AUC (60 BC), fall
Aricia, 16 miles south of Rome, Italia
“Ave my friends, would you like to follow me into the garden? There is a nicely shaded table ready for us.” Marcus Licinius Crassus greeted Caesar and Publius Claudius Pulcher after walking out from his villa to meet them in the courtyard. They were close to Aricia, a small town that shared the neighborhood with many senatorial properties. A straight shot from Rome, the sixteen miles south were traveled conveniently within a few hours on the Via Appia. Caesar admired the house’s setting on the side of a hill, presenting a perfect view of the many acres belonging to the property. The villa was massive and opulent, as to be expected from the richest man of Rome who happened to own thousands of slaves specialized in construction.
“The servants will bring us my best wine and cool water. I am rather proud of the grapes after I spent a fortune years ago to get plant starts from the Falernian estates south of Neapolis,” Crassus said as he led the way.
Caesar followed, glancing back at their entourage in the courtyard. His old friends Aulus Hirtius and Lucius Cornelius Cinna stood with young Marcus Antonius, who held a lengthy conversation with Pulcher’s brawlers. Antonius was the son of a distant cousin of Caesar’s and had fallen in with Pulcher and his gang, already second in command despite his young age of seventeen. What a weird combination of people I consort with these days. Dear friends mixed with people I barely accept as necessary evil. The lines are blurring and I am worried I can’t keep the two apart for much longer.
Caesar followed Pulcher and Crassus to a round table in the shade of a gigantic old olive tree bordered by rows of small mastic trees and oleander bushes and sat down.
Caesar nodded to the three men leaning against the massive trunk of the old tree. “Salve Luctatus, Salve Fraucus!” He raised his eyebrows when he got to the third man. “I don’t remember your name, sorry.”
“Postumus, sir,” came the reply. Caesar knew these men acted as Crassus’ trusted body guards and sometimes even as servants. Hirtius, Cinna, and Antonius quietly arrived at the tree as well, close enough to hear everything said at the table.
“Tertulla and both Marcus Junior and Publius will be here later to join us for dinner. Did you pass their carriage on the road? I am sure Tertulla insisted on traveling in her carpentum. My sons both hate the monstrosity, it is pulled by six brown horses, so you wouldn’t have been able to miss it. No? They likely started out much later than you lot,” Crassus chuckled, knowing that Caesar had always been an early riser, no matter the circumstances. “Were you able to arrange for Marcus to become pontifex of Jupiter as we discussed?”
“Yes, it’s as good as done. We can talk with him about the details over dinner,” Caesar answered.
“Excellent, he will be very happy, and we will have yet another set of eyes and ears in the back of the Senate to listen in on the back-row discussions.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “You know, he has nothing but good words about you since your campaign in Hispania. About that, how are your finances these days?” Crassus added with a hint of a smile.
“Hispania much improved things, though you well know how much new debt I incurred to run for next year’s consu
l,” Caesar answered, annoyed at Crassus’ mocking. His ally had been the one to loan him the huge sum needed to secure the election. Caesar decided to change the subject. “It’s nice out here, much cooler than Rome.”
“Where it’s scorching hot for a whole week now. I get why so many senators have villas out here,” Pulcher added. “I am thinking of buying one myself. I am sure my wife would love that.”
“Our wives’ happiness is certainly a big motivator, right?” Crassus stated with a deadpan face. They all laughed at the irony of the statement. Between the three of them only Crassus didn’t have extramarital affairs. Though Caesar’s exploits with married women of the Roman upper classes had caused many rumors to spread across the city, Publius Claudius Pulcher’s sexual depredations put him into a category all by himself.
The laughter died down, and Caesar spoke up first, looking at Pulcher. “I would like to discuss something more serious. Specifically, I am worried about our waning street support. The Optimates are beefing up their gangs again to counter your success. I heard they are trying to recruit Titus Annius Milo to lead and organize the opposition. He’s refused so far, though his deep hatred for you is no secret. The man despises you and surely would like you dead. Which makes me believe he will eventually join them just to spite you,” he said.
“What did you do to the man? Did you sleep with his mother? Or with him, then leave him behind as a spurned lover?” Crassus asked Pulcher before roaring with more laughter.
Pulcher grinned wide in response. “Pretty close, dear Marcus. I partied with his younger sister.”