by C K Ruppelt
They continued to a stable near the city gate where the two soldiers had left the horses and rode north from Clusium as soon as the saddles were fastened.
“Can we make this our first stop?” Velia asked, pointing at her neck.
“Absolutely, we’ll find someone at the next village,” Blandius replied.
After two days of uneventful riding on the Via Cassia they caught up with the wagon train.
696 AUC (58 BC), late summer
South of Andematunnum, Free Gallia, Southern lands of the Lingones Nation
Why did the Roman commander leave me alive? As part of the peace treaty he made me promise to lead my people back to our mountains, and I will abide by my word though there is no more honor left for me.
Divico was a broken man. He knew his short fits of restless sleep made him look gaunt and older than his seventy-five years, and for the first time in his life, he no longer felt ready for anything. He wanted no more sparring, conversing, or anything else for that matter that held any meaning for his future. All that was left was to ride and occasionally eat part of the rations the Romans had handed them.
“I would like to share some of my ale with you.” Bricio had ridden up to grace him with his company. Having the young man worried about him made things even worse. What if his father would have been the better leader after all?
He knew there was no use in dwelling in the past. It was history now, there was no way of changing it. Looking behind him, he saw the long trail of families and warriors. Some looked beaten down, but not all. After everything, many looked forward to their old homes and resuming the lives they knew, well known and comfortable like a pair of worn leather shoes. He couldn’t fault them for wanting to be done with the adventure that had come so close to killing them all.
How could anyone understand Caesar, the man who let them go, even giving them supplies so they had a chance of surviving the coming winter. That hated person had shown a very unexpected mercy to the Helvetii people, the chieftains, and most of all, him, the man responsible for annihilating three Roman legions so long ago. Apparently, killing and enslaving my people at the Arar was enough to satisfy his need for vengeance.
He had wanted his fate to be an honorable death in battle, or if that was not possible, to be executed by the Romans. That would have left him some defiance.
“I am grateful, thank you,” he answered Bricio, who handed him his skin full of ale. Drinking greedily despite the fluid’s warmth, or perhaps because of it, he considered the cold day.
“You should leave me alone, you don’t want to be seen anymore with the man that led his nation to ruin. Which also means that I will not, no, cannot be on the council any longer.” Once we’re home, I’ll spend the rest of my days on my farm in solitude and quiet.
He handed the skin back to Bricio. That young man was now the best hope for their nation’s future. Divico turned away, shivering in the cold drizzle. He tightened his coat and rode on.
***
“My wife wants to visit me in Mediolanum in Gallia Cisalpina in winter when I hold the assizes there for the province. She writes that she plans to leave Rome in mid-October and she asked my mother to join her. She wants to make the trip itself into an adventure, which should be easy, considering she only ever traveled south from Rome.” The letter had transformed Caesar’s previously solemn mood, and he smiled across the desk at Hirtius. I can’t wait to see sweet Calpurnia again.
Hirtius laughed at his reaction. “And that’s after you’ve already received a letter from Crassus about wanting to visit you and his son. You’ll have a busy couple of months there,” he added.
Caesar nodded. “I should write to him about the Helvetii spoils. I have more than enough proceeds to pay back everything I owe him. In fact, it should be about enough to pay back all my loans. Which is unbelievable, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the day. I’d like to celebrate that later with a small round of friends. Would you join me?”
“What else am I going to do! Of course,” Hirtius beamed at him. “I am very happy it finally worked out, I know how much that has weighed on you over the years.”
Caesar stood up. “The Legates will be here shortly, we should prepare. Cleisthenes, would you help, please?”
The Athenian servant rushed out of the private chamber section of the tent. “I am here, what do you need me to do?”
“Please have the big table set up, and we will need a few more chairs. Five extra should cover it.”
A few minutes later the table and chairs were arranged, and Caesar moved over a collection of papyrus scrolls and baskets himself, containing various pieces of vellum. He spread them across the table top when his legates walked into the tent.
“Gentlemen, please have a seat. I asked you here to help me sift through all of this,” he said while indicating the documents on the table. “The Helvetii left us their council’s official correspondence, please search for anything useful to us and the Senate. That could be anything relating to their possessions, their motivations or agreements between their cantons and other tribes and clans.” As Caesar started with the vellum in the basket in front of him, his thoughts drifted to the last few days. After the decisive battle, he had given the legions three days to convalesce and bury the dead before hurrying after the fleeing enemy. Even with the wait, they were easily able to catch up with the majority of the Helvetii who had no stomach left for more fighting. Divico and his surviving chieftains had sued for peace. Like I figured they would.
The council members had willingly signed his agreement, eager to return to their homelands, and promised to never bother the Romans or the Aedui again. As a gesture of goodwill, he had sent wheat from Roman Gallia to help the survivors through the next winter.
“Look at these numbers, Gaius,” Pedius stated, leaning forward in his chair. “Unbelievable! This should look excellent in your next report to the Senate.” He handed the piece of vellum to Vatinius, who passed it on to Caesar.
“In Greek letters, and nice handwriting to boot. Let’s see. It lists the Helvetii and their sister tribes at three-hundred-seventy-thousand people.” Caesar whistled through his teeth. “That number seems too high to believe.”
“Maybe they didn’t all leave the mountains, though I think you have to mention these numbers in your next missive,” Vatinius added with a wide grin. “You do have that document as proof, and it will make us look even more successful.”
Caesar ruefully shook his head. “I don’t like to boast, but I think I might have to. We need all the help we can get to sway public opinion back home.” He turned pensive. “I am personally more interested in how many of them survived to go back home.”
“You mean in total, including the first battle?” young Crassus asked.
“Those of the Tingurini that managed to flee, not the ones we sold,” Caesar answered.
“We counted only one-hundred-ten-thousand in the camp when we caught up to them a few days ago,” Labienus jumped in.
“Yes, but that doesn’t account for any of the Tigurini that fled earlier, or any of the other ones traveling separately,” Caesar mused. “I guess we’ll never know for sure. Do we have the tallies for our own fallen yet?”
“Yes, I have them here,” Hirtius chimed in, pulling a folded papyrus from his legionary satchel. “Let’s see. In total, we lost close to nine thousand legionaries, that’s nearly a third of our troops. We also lost three thousand men from the combined auxilia forces.”
Caesar cringed. “We need to start looking for fresh reinforcements.” He pondered the situation while everybody kept pulling documents to read. I had meant to go after Ariovistus soon. Every day I wait, more of my political enemies in the Senate will support the Suebi king in the hope of interfering with my own plans. Crassus wrote that some senators are already calling for me to leave Gallia altogether.
***
“You better make your peace with leaving the council voluntarily, or they will kick you out. If that happens, you can be
sure they will make a show of it. Nobody wants to work with you anymore, not after collaborating with the Helvetii against our own people and Caesar,” Divitiaco lectured his brother Dumnorix.
He glanced back at Liscus and all their retainers trailing through open countryside on their way back to Bibracte. They were far enough away for him not to be overheard.
“Now that Caesar has gotten the Helvetii out of our lands, the council feels nothing but gratefulness for his help. All Aedui are in his debt”—he noticed his brother sneering at the mention of Caesar—”and you know about the preparations for our grand assembly. We’ve invited many nation’s Vergobreti, kings, and elder chieftains from all over Gallia. They want to add as many pleas as possible to our own for when we officially ask Caesar to intervene with Ariovist and his Suebi. There’s no place for you in any of this, not anymore.”
Though Dumnorix stayed sullen and silent, Divitiacus was content. The threat of the Helvetii was no more, the relationship with Rome was better than ever thanks to Julius Caesar, and his brother had been chastised without getting hurt, at least physically. The wounded pride would heal, and who knew, maybe stubborn Dumnorix would eventually forgive his older brother for interfering in his betrayal of the council and Caesar.
“One more thing. I want to meet that Helvetia wife of yours, and your children. They are my family too—can you do that for me?” Dumnorix looked at him with a veiled expression. “Please?” he added before his brother nodded. He thought he saw the corner of his brother’s lips curl slightly. Maybe that was a smile, I am not sure. Well, it can only get better from here.
He knew about the effort the Aedui council had put into the grand assembly, and hoped it would bring Gallia’s nations closer, though he figured it wasn’t going to help with anything else. He had personally heard Caesar’s promise and saw him shake hands with Elsed. That man is obsessed with keeping his word, I have no doubt he will help us.
EPILOGUS
Spero (Hope)
“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart”
Marcus Aurelius
696 AUC (58 BC), late summer
Via Cassia, south of Faesolae, Etruria, Italia
“Velthurus told me there is a temple to Feronia in these woods. He heard it from an old local woman yesterday at the trading post,” Velia explained to Blandius who sat next to her on the wagon bench. “I know it will slow us down, but we can catch up with the others again after.”
Their wagons had reached a mansio, one of many official rest stops along the Via Cassia. Blandius drove past it to a wide grassy patch that was big enough to allow their entire wagon train to camp for the night. He had explained to her that this ancient highway between Rome and several of the former Etruscan cities turned west to merge with the Via Aurelia, running along the western Italian coast. So, she would finally get to see the ocean she had always dreamed about, though now she could not manage much enthusiasm, and hated herself for it. I am not the same person I used to be. I can’t seem to get excited about anything anymore. The hate for Fastie kept me sane. Now, what is left for me?
“Let me talk to Albatius,” he answered as he climbed off the wagon. “If he’s up for it, we can go.”
He walked back across the grass to where his friend finished parking his wagon and glanced at the big building reserved for official dignitaries and government messengers. Off to one side were the ubiquitous local farm stands that would sell them overpriced foodstuff like bread, cheeses, fruit, fresh water, and feed for their animals. He nodded to his colleagues as they walked by on their way to the forest edge to relieve themselves after an afternoon spent on hard wagon benches, and continued until he reached Albatius and Velthurus.
“Why don’t you follow the others, I’ll catch up,” he told the boy who gladly took off.
Blandius grinned after him. “I assume you heard about the temple?” he asked his friend.
Albatius laughed. “The boy won’t shut up about it.” They both glanced back at Velia, now also heading for the forest. “Can’t say I know what they’ve gone through, but I know they have their hearts set on it. We can make an extra day or two work.”
“It’s settled then. Let’s tell the others.”
***
“I thought we’d never get here. This is far enough into the forest that we’ll have to spend the night. We couldn’t get back to the Via Cassia before dark,” Blandius announced.
Looking for a good spot to park their wagons in the broad clearing around the temple, they saw a mix of tied or hobbled horses, mules, and many kinds of wagons, including a few rented raeda big enough for ten people or more, and even a small two-wheeled carruca with leather strap suspension, indicating at least one rather wealthy visitor. One side of the temple grounds housed an open market with booths and stands selling goods of all kinds.
Velia’s companion whistled through his teeth. “All of this in the middle of a big forest?”
“As befits the temple of the goddess protector of all wildlife, fertility, freedom and abundance,” she answered. “How about over there?” He followed her advice and parked the wagon, and she jumped off to stretch.
“I’ll unhitch the oxen, you go right ahead to the temple,” Blandius said.
Velia frowned. “I hate to bother you, but could you please loan us some money?”
“I am sorry, of course. Don’t worry about paying this back, please. Here are…” He opened his purse bag and counted out the coins as he took them out. “one, two, three, four denarii. That’s sixteen sesterces. Will that be enough for now?”
“I think so, thank you.” She turned around to Velthurus. “Let’s go.” Velia led the boy up the stairs to the temple’s colonnade. The last step ended, and they walked through the first columns into the shadow of the massive roof. It was as if someone had shut off the noise of the market, and she felt some of the emotion of the last days drop off her shoulders, feeling relaxed for the first time in a year or more.
“Look, Velia. They sell clay tablets. Is that how we are supposed to ask the goddess for a favor?”
“I bet that’s what they’re for. Wax tablets are easily erased, but clay tablets dry and keep your wish written forever.” She turned to the temple servant behind the counter. “One please.” She handed a denarius over and received two sesterces back. “Thank you.” She handed the tablet to the boy.
“Don’t you want one as well?” he asked her.
“I don’t need one, my wish has already come true. I am here to thank the goddess for what she did for me.”
She stepped through the main doorway and walked into the inner sanctum, the main part of the temple holding a large and vividly painted marble statue of Feronia. They got in line to move to the front of the goddess’ pedestal. The temple might be out of the way, but it was a busy place nonetheless. “Velthurus, write your most heartfelt wish and put it in the bin next to the goddess. She may grant it to you if she feels you are worthy.”
He took the tablet, holding it awkwardly for a moment before pushing it back at her. “I never learned how to write. Could you please do this for me?” He looked expectantly at her.
“Sure, I will for now, but how about I teach you how to read and write?” Velia asked. “What do you want the tablet to say?”
“I want you to write: Please remove the mark of shame from my forehead.”
Velia burst into tears, her heart overflowing for the child. She hugged him tight before scratching the sentence into the moist layer of clay. The line to the platform advanced slowly, yet she didn’t mind in the least. I am content just to be here in this holy place, and not to worry any longer.
She gazed at the gentle face of the goddess when Velthurus suddenly pulled on her arm. “It’s our turn,” he told her. She was surprised they had made it to the front. Velthurus carefully added his tablet to a growing collection in a big basket while Velia kneeled down to lay Fastie’s bronze neckban
d on the altar as a donation. Next, she opened the bag containing her parents’ figurines and pulled them out, arranging them carefully one by one on the edge of Feronia’s stone platform, with her parents positioned slightly behind Numerius. “Thank you, Feronia, for watching over me and the spirits of my mother and father,” she whispered. “Thanks goes to you and to my parents for guiding my brother, and to you, my dear brother, for sending us the help we needed. I will see you soon.”
***
Albatius wanted to stay and keep watch over the wagons and their load, so Blandius decided to walk through the market, aimlessly perusing stall after stall. He stopped at a booth for a flaky meat pie, freshly baked in a woodfired oven, smelling too delicious to pass up. Hot food in hand, he moved to the edge of the market to sit down on a boulder and enjoy his meal. He was done too soon, licking the last bits off his fingers, when he noticed a temple servant exit the back side of the huge building to go into the forest with a big and heavy basket. Intrigued, Blandius decided to follow. The path went through ancient trees for a good third of a mile before ending in a small clearing, filled with raised mounds of dirt and one big open hole gaping in the ground. The servant proceeded straight to the hole and gently lowered the basket to the ground in front of it before tipping it forward to spill its contents. The basket had held many clay tablets, all now sliding into the hole.
Blandius stepped on a twig, and the man looked up at the sound. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I saw you and followed out of curiosity. I meant no offense to Feronia or her temple,” he apologized.
“None taken. This is part of my daily duties for the temple. I ask you to please not tell anybody else about this clearing. These,” he pointed down the hole, “are the worshippers’ questions and requests for favors, and we would not want the tablets to ever be stolen or destroyed. They need to stay close to the temple, so our goddess can peruse the wishes on her own time, and grant them if she finds the wishers worthy,” the temple servant said.
