‘Then let’s do that. I’ve got plenty of money with me. I’ll purchase spare horses from the traders here before we go.’
‘Good. Go do it now. I’ll arrange matters with Aristius and our new friend.’
As Brutus nodded and stepped back down the slope, Priscus heaved in a deep sigh of relief. It would be good to get back to the army.
* * * * *
Caesar leaned forward over his table and steepled his fingers, Antonius looming at the tent’s edge in his usual pose, leaning back with folded arms.
‘How troubled do you think the Aedui state is, then?’
Priscus shrugged wearily in his seat, wishing the general would hurry the meeting along so that he could bathe, eat, crap and sleep, and not necessarily in that order. ‘It was trouble, but from what Iudnacos says, it sounds like things are starting to settle. There are clearly elements that are still at work against us, but it seems their main push to turn the whole tribe away has failed.’
‘Do you believe it will require a military presence?’
‘I doubt it. I toyed with the idea of sending word to the Narbonensis force and having them head north into Aedui territory, but I assume you would prefer that they come straight here. I reckon from what Brutus says, this place is about the only Arverni settlement they haven’t hit.’
Brutus was having distinct difficulty keeping his eyes open at the back, but Aristius nodded. ‘We came within sight a few times, but the place defies the attack of any army without engineers or siege weapons.’
Caesar nodded. ‘I think that it would be best, yes, for the army to join up. And it shows our allies within the Aedui that we have faith in them if we leave them to put their own house in order without garrisoning legionaries on them. We are in position now to put an end to this Arverni rebel. Our forces are bolstered with new Aedui horse, and in a matter of days we will have your Narbonensis garrison and the new legionaries.’
Caesar looked over to Fronto, who sat wearily slouched in another chair, rubbing his cheek where the earlier bruising had almost gone but a fresh line from an enemy spear had taken three stitches to close. ‘Fronto? I would like the camp’s fabricae to get to work putting together standards and eagles. Would you see to that? Our new recruits from Cisalpine Gaul have been proved enough on the field of battle now. It is time they took their eagles as the Fifth and Sixth, since their namesakes in Spain have just been disbanded.’
Fronto nodded.
‘Very well. I will grant a full pardon against any treacherous behaviour to any member of the Aedui who is willing to retake their oath. We will trust them to settle their own state, and I will not demand any further levies or supplies from them for the moment. You’re all dismissed. I suggest you get some rest while I speak to this Iudnacos and his ambassador friends and work through the matter.’
The assembled officers rose and bowed, leaving Caesar and Antonius alone in the tent.
Iudnacos waited patiently outside in the gathering gloom with his noble allies, Ingenuus’ praetorians standing protectively around them. The Aeduan nodded as the officers passed, and Priscus threw a weary arm about Fronto’s shoulder.
‘You seem to have had a bit of a ruckus,’ he noted, pointing at Fronto’s cheek.
‘And you smell like a bear used you as a sponge-stick,’ Fronto grunted back. ‘I reckon we all need a cup or twelve of wine and a catch up.’
Aristius brightened, and Brutus even managed to look slightly more alert.
‘Think I ought to find the wash-tent and clean the bear-arse off myself first,’ Priscus muttered.
‘Later. We need to catch up before Antonius finishes his meeting and gets wind that I’ve cracked a jar. If he turns up with a mug, we might as well write off the night’s sleep and start the hangover now!’
The four men paused at a tent corner, where they came into sight of the looming mountain of Gergovia.
‘Jove, but that place is big,’ Aristius hissed.
‘Aren’t they all,’ Priscus said in a blasé manner. ‘Once you’ve stormed one oppidum, you’ve stormed them all.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Fronto replied. ‘This place is different. I’ve a bad feeling about Gergovia.’
‘You and your bad feelings,’ snorted Priscus derisively. ‘Come on. Let’s get your wine open.’
The three tired officers stepped on, but for a moment Fronto paused and looked up in the inky evening. Never had Gergovia looked less conquerable to him than at that very moment. He reached into his tunic and gripped the hanging bronze pendant of Fortuna tight.
‘Come on, slow-arse. We need you to find the wine!’ shouted Priscus.
Chapter 14
Gergovia
Cavarinos watched the Lemovices under their king, Sedullos, pulling back north along the hilltop towards the higher peak closer to the Oppidum’s gate, where Vercingetorix and his Arverni were in a similar state of decamping.
‘This is courting disaster,’ he muttered.
The king smiled and shook his head. ‘We need to secure the northern slopes and bolster the defences of the oppidum itself against potential enemy pushes, and that means a concentration of our forces. You were not here, but we saw first-hand what happens when our army is too widespread. I cannot blame Lucterius for having lost the white rocks. He was too far from support - too precarious - but I will not make the same mistake again.’
‘So you’ll clear off the peaks and gift them to Caesar for his new legions instead?’
The king gave him a dark look. ‘Do not think to second-guess me, Cavarinos. I am not such a fool as you think. We can re-garrison the heights far quicker than the Romans can storm the slopes to take them. I will leave plenty of scouts to watch for any move Caesar makes, but the man means to starve us and weaken us before he makes any push. With the loss of the white rocks, he has more than halved our access to water supply, and seriously limited our foraging capabilities. We have plenty of food, and the northern slope remains open to forage and supply, but we must consolidate now, while he is inactive, and prepare for the long term, even move most of our supplies into the oppidum itself.’
‘We just wait for Caesar to starve us out?’
‘Hardly, Cavarinos. Litavicus informs me that although the traitors took our Aedui horse over to Caesar, things are still uncertain among his tribe, and they can still be brought to our cause. Convictolitanis works on at this, and your brother is still abroad to the north, summoning up allies for us. Only yesterday, before you returned, a thousand Veneti warriors arrived, sent forth on his request to our aid. He does me good work. Our forces grow and, unless Caesar thinks to surround us - which is not feasible unless he can double his forces - new men and food can always be brought in from the north. But we must fortify if that is to remain the case. I have given orders for the low rampart around the main camp to be raised with stones to a height of six feet, and we will wall in the northern approach to prevent the same thing happening there as happened at white rocks.’
‘I’m not sure how far I trust your friend Litavicus. I think he’s rather more full of himself than of talent. Probably more full of shit than either, in fact.’
‘He remains loyal to us, nevertheless, and loyalty is a valuable commodity in these times.’
‘A loyal idiot can be more dangerous than a disloyal one. Nothing can be trusted when it is built upon tier after tier of lies and deceit, Vercingetorix. We believed the Aedui were ours because you had bought men working within them for our gain. But what this cavalry debacle should have taught us is that this is not a reliable way to achieve our goals. We had bought men, but Caesar had bought men within ours, it seems.’
Ignoring the disapproving gaze of his king, Cavarinos gestured at the flood of men leaving the twin hills and retreating north towards the oppidum’s western gate with a sweep of his arm.
‘We began this revolt to drive out Rome and the decadent influences and morals their culture seems to have introduced to the tribes. We were the he
roes of our people, backed by the word of the druids and with the good of the people at heart. We would raise a great army with our words of freedom and justice, and we would take that army against Caesar and defeat him; teach the Romans that they would never take us.’
‘And that is what we are doing, Cavarinos.’
‘Is it? Is it really? It’s a rare and disturbing occasion when I find myself echoing my brother’s words, but he had a point. We have lost our way. Pride and stealth, treachery and subterfuge have become our core. We play tribes off against one another and sacrifice those we purport to champion for the good of ourselves. We trust to trickery and bribery to secure the support of others. If our cause was that just and noble, we should not need to buy our allies. I pictured this summer being my great war. I would be commanding half the warriors of Nemossos in battle, repeatedly defeating Romans until I had driven them back into the sea.’
‘Cavarinos…’
‘No. Instead, I spend my time running from one ruse or deception to another trying to hold our failing alliance together. And while I do so, you burn oppidum after oppidum to deny the Romans, but refuse to fire your own. What sort of message does that send? No wonder tribes like the Aedui will not flock to our banner. The Romans only punish their enemies… not their allies. Sometimes I wonder if our world would not be better under them!’
The king slapped his hand across Cavarinos’ mouth and rounded on him angrily.
‘You are long one of my friends and allies, Cavarinos, but talk like that could cause us more damage than a whole legion of Romans. If you want to free Gaul, then help me, but if you are to go on spreading such sedition, you have no place here.’
Cavarinos took a deep breath. ‘Give me your oath you will sacrifice no one else; that you will not put the Arverni above the other tribes that fight with us.’
‘You have it.’
‘And look me in the eye and tell me that you can win this. That you can hold Gergovia and beat Caesar.’
‘I can do it, Cavarinos. And I will.’
‘Then I am yours and I will keep my mouth sealed. But for the love of life and freedom, do not fail here, king of the Arverni. If you lose this mountain, then you lose everything and neither I nor the army, nor the druids nor even the gods can save us.’
* * * * *
Fronto blinked. ‘He’s right, general. They’ve left the heights. They’re still in their main camp below the oppidum wall, but both of the western hills are empty. It looks like they’ve moved back to the oppidum and the western approach. What the hell are they playing at?’
Caesar rubbed his jaw, noting with surprise how stubbly it had become and making a mental note to shave when he returned to his tent. Just because they were in the field was no reason to let standards slip, after all. ‘Whatever it is, the withdrawal is only temporary,’ the general noted, and gestured up to the hilltops. ‘If you watch a few moments, you will see the occasional glint of bronze. They have set scouts to watch. If they had no further interest in the place they would not be watching.’
‘Still,’ Plancus said quietly, ‘a few scouts are no worry. Two legions again and we could take those heights. Then we would really have them pinned, Caesar.’
‘Hardly,’ murmured Caesar. ‘They are half a mile from their former position. A mile at most, and at the same height. By the time we reach even the lower slopes they will be mobilising again. We wouldn’t be halfway to the top before they were waiting for us. It’s almost as if they’re inviting us. As if it is a trap.’
Fronto tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. A slow smile crept across his face.
‘Do you remember that pissy ordo member in Corduba, general?’
Caesar frowned in incomprehension.
‘The one with the… er… over-friendly wife?’
Light dawned on Caesar and he pursed his lips as he though back over the decades to the event of which Fronto was speaking. It had been so long ago, and there had been plenty of ‘pissy’ politicians, and no few over-friendly women, if he was to be honest…
A smile broke across his face.
‘I forget his name, but I think I see what you mean.’
Antonius cleared his throat. ‘Care to enlighten me?’
Fronto opened his mouth to speak, but Caesar cast him a warning look and began the tale. ‘There was a young lady in Corduba who availed herself of my time. She was rather… welcoming… to a young dashing quaestor from Rome. I only discovered the next day that she was the wife of one of the city council, and when the man found out, he blew his top. He knew I was too important to have it out in public - I’d achieved a certain fame for my orations and that ridiculous business with the pirates - so he invited me to dinner. He’d cleared out his atrium, you see, and hired half a dozen ruffians with the intention of beating me near to death when I arrived.’
‘But that love-struck young lady warned us in advance,’ Fronto grinned nastily. ‘When the silly old fart opened the door he found not Caesar, but a contubernium of veteran legionaries, all rather incensed and on extra pay for their time.’
As Antonius chuckled, Caesar smiled. ‘I think he rather regretted setting the trap as he watched the thugs beaten senseless, waiting for my men to turn to him.’
Fronto laughed aloud. ‘Not as much as he regretted the fact that, while all that was happening, you and his strumpet of a wife were going at it again in his own bedroom.’
Caesar gave him a hard look as the officers around him made straining noises, trying not to burst out laughing. ‘Anyway,’ the general replied loudly, ‘the point was that he had expected us to come in the front, but I used that expectation to distract him while I affected entry elsewhere.’
‘You’re suggesting something similar here?’ Antonius frowned as Fronto chortled in the background.
‘I am. Let me run my idea past you all. I think you’ll like it.’
* * * * *
Cavarinos yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he rode across the hillside of the more southerly peak, which was dotted with scattered trees and yet nude in comparison with its northern companion, Vercingetorix and Vergasillaunus at his side and Lucterius and Sedullos close behind. Two of the Lemovices who had been left on watch atop the southern hill was waving over at them and pointing down the slope. The commanders of the rebel army trotted over to the scout and reined in, trying not to look east, where the early morning sun hovered just above the horizon with blinding golden light.
‘No need to ask what he saw,’ murmured Vergasillaunus as the five nobles peered down at the activity below. A train of supply carts was moving west along the valley floor from the Roman position, skirting the lowest reaches of this very hill. Roman regular cavalry moved among and around it in sizeable units, and Caesar’s allied Gallic cavalry were also in evidence, ranging across the lower slopes protectively.
‘What are they doing?’ Lucterius snorted.
‘They are transferring a sizeable part of their camp, building a new one,’ Vergasillaunus replied. ‘Perhaps they mean to seal off that northern approach after all. See how there are engineers among them. They have those strange stick things Roman engineers carry.’
‘Groma,’ Cavarinos noted.
‘Whatever they’re called, if those men have them, they’re engineers. Baggage, engineers and cavalry. They’re heading to a spot for a new camp.’
‘If they meant to seal off the northern approach they would have gone straight there, not skirted the whole place in a circuit. No, these men are heading to the western end, beyond the hills. What could they hope to achieve to the west?’
Vercingetorix took a deep breath. ‘They are not heading west. They are just moving into position. See also the gleam of steel down there?’ The king pointed at the lower slope, toward the Roman lines. As the others followed his gesture, they spotted the legion through the trees and scrubland, moving into position at the foot of the slope.
‘They hope to distract us with the carts to the west, while the
ir supposedly-hidden legion assails the hill and takes our position. They can then hold it while those engineers come up with the carts and fortify, all with cavalry support. They are moving to take the hill, and they are attempting to be cunning about it, distracting us from their real target. But their legion is not as well hidden as they think.’ He glanced across at Cavarinos. ‘Well, this hill will not fall as easily as the white rocks.’
The Arverni king turned to the men of his personal entourage who had followed on and now waited behind at a respectable distance. ‘No signals or calls. Just have the word sent out. Bring every man we can spare across to the western hills. They will not take this position.’
* * * * *
‘A few horsemen at the crest,’ Brutus muttered. ‘Have to be nobles. The rebel king, you think?’
Aristius pursed his lips. ‘I don’t really know these Gauls yet, but it seems likely. Do you think he’s seen us?’ He glanced around at the glinting forms of the newly-assigned Fifth legion moving through the trees. What an order they’d been given: move as noisily as you can, but try to make it look like you’re sneaking!
How the hell were they supposed to do that?
As they’d moved through the woods, the clank and shush of mail and other kit vying with the call of the multitudinous larks in a dawn chorus of war, Aristius had not known whether to tell his men to quieten down or to move louder.
Still, they seemed to have done the job, if they’d drawn the attention of the leaders. Moreover, as he watched he saw one of the high, distant figures gesture out to the west, to where part of the camp’s supply train had been sent out as a distraction, the mule-handlers and teamsters kitted out in military gear and resembling cavalry to the untrained eye. The activity had to be causing the Gauls concern.
The Great Revolt Page 32