"We deal with the Province first," said Caesar crisply. "The Fifteenth can have its two days, but after that it's going to march without a pause to Narbo. I'll have to ride on ahead—there'll be panic everywhere, and no one will want the responsibility of starting to organize resistance. It's three hundred miles from Nicaea to Narbo, but I want the Fifteenth there eight days after leaving here, Decimus. You're in command. Hirtius, you'll come with me. Make sure we have enough couriers; I'll need to correspond constantly with Mamurra and Ventidius."
"Do you want Faberius along?" asked Hirtius.
"Yes, and Trogus. Procillus can set out for Agedincum with a message for Trebonius. He'll travel straight up the Rhodanus and then go through Genava and Vesontio, as advised. He can visit Rhiannon as he passes through Arausio to tell her that she won't be leaving her home there this year."
Decimus Brutus tensed. "Then you think we'll be about this business for the entire year, Caesar?" he asked.
"If all Gaul is united, yes."
"What do you want me to do?" asked Lucius Caesar.
"You'll travel with Decimus and the Fifteenth, Lucius. I'm appointing you legate in command of the Province, so it will be your job to defend it. You'll make Narbo your headquarters. Keep in constant touch with Afranius and Petreius in the Spains, and make sure you monitor feelings among the Aquitani. The tribes around Tolosa won't give any trouble, but those further west and around Burdigala will, I think." He gave Lucius Caesar his warmest and most personal smile. "You inherit the Province because you have the experience, the consular status and the ability to function in my absence, cousin. Once I leave Narbo, I don't want to have to think about the Province for one moment. If you're in charge, my confidence won't be misplaced."
And that, thought Hirtius privately, is how he does things, cousin Lucius. He charms you into thinking you're the only possible man for the job. Whereupon you will flog yourself to death to please him, and he'll be true to his word—he won't even remember your name once he's out of your sphere.
"Decimus," said Caesar, "summon the Fifteenth's centurions to a meeting tomorrow and make sure the men have full winter gear in their packs. If there are any deficiencies, send a courier to me with a list of whatever I might have to requisition in Narbo."
"I doubt there'll be anything," said Decimus Brutus, relaxed again. "One thing I'll grant Mamurra: he's a superb praefectus fabrum. The bills he submits are grossly exaggerated, but he never skimps on quality or quantity."
"Which reminds me that I'll have to write to him about more artillery. I think each legion should have at least fifty pieces. I have a few ideas about increasing its use on the battlefield. We don't soften the enemy up enough before we engage."
Lucius Caesar blinked. "Artillery is a siege necessity!"
"Definitely. But why not a necessity on the battlefield too?"
By the next morning he was gone, cantering in his habitual four-mule gig, the resigned Faberius bearing him company, while Hirtius shared a second gig with Gnaeus Pompeius Trogus, Caesar's chief interpreter and his authority on everything to do with Gaul.
In every town of any size he paused briefly to see the ethnarch if it was Greek or the duumviri if it was Roman; they were apprised of the situation in Long-haired Gaul in a few succinct words, directed to start enlisting the local militia, and given authority to draw on armor and armaments from the nearest depot. By the time he departed, the local people were going busily about doing as they had been told and waiting anxiously for the arrival of Lucius Caesar.
The Via Domitia to Spain was always kept in perfect condition, so nothing slowed the two gigs down. From Arelate to Nemausus they crossed the great fens and grassy swamplands of the Rhodanus delta on the causeway Gaius Marius had constructed. From Nemausus on, Caesar's halts were more frequent and of longer duration, for this was the country of the Volcae Arecomici, who had been hearing rumors of war between the Cardurci and the Ruteni, their neighbors on the north. There was no doubt whatsoever of their loyalty to Rome, nor of their eagerness to do as Caesar commanded.
In Ambrussum a party of Helvii from the western bank of the Rhodanus were staying en route to Narbo, where they hoped to find a Roman in residence sufficiently senior to advise them. They were led by their duumviri, a father and son given the Roman citizenship by a Gaius Valerius; they both bore his name, but the father's Gallic name was Caburus, his son's name Donnotaurus.
"We have already received an embassage from Vercingetorix," said Donnotaurus, worried. "He expected us to leap at the chance to join his strange new federation. But when we declined, his ambassadors said that sooner or later we would beg to join."
"After that we heard that Lucterius has attacked the Ruteni and that Vercingetorix himself has moved against the Bituriges," said Caburus. "Suddenly we understood. If we do not join, then we will suffer."
"Yes, you will suffer," said Caesar. "There's no merit in trying to tell you otherwise. Will you change your minds if you are attacked?"
"No," said father and son together.
"In which case, go home and arm. Be ready. Rest assured that I'll send you help as soon as I can. However, it may be that all my available forces will be engaged in a bigger struggle elsewhere. Help might be long in coming, but it will come, so you must hold," said Caesar. "Many years ago I armed the citizens of Asia Province against Mithridates and asked them to fight a battle without a Roman army anywhere near. I had none. But the Asians beat the legates of old King Mithridates unaided. Just as you can beat the long-haired Gauls."
"We'll hold," said Caburus grimly.
Suddenly Caesar smiled. "Not entirely without assistance, however! You've served in Roman auxiliary legions; you know how Rome fights. All the armor and armaments you want are yours for the asking. My cousin Lucius Caesar isn't far behind me. Gauge your needs, and requisition them from him in my name. Fortify your towns and be prepared to take your villagers inside. Don't lose any more of your people than you can help."
"We've also heard," said Donnotaurus, "that Vercingetorix is dickering with the Allobroges."
"Ah!" said Caesar, frowning. "That's one people of the Province might be tempted. It's not so long since they were fighting us bitterly."
"I think you'll find," said Caburus, "that the Allobroges will listen intently, then go away and pretend to discuss the offer for many moons. The more Vercingetorix tries to hurry them, the more they'll prevaricate. You may believe us when we say they won't join Vercingetorix."
"Why not?"
"Because of you, Caesar," said Donnotaurus, surprised at the question. "After you sent the Helvetii back to their own lands, the Allobroges rested more securely. They also took uncontestable possession of the lands around Genava. They know which side is going to win."
Caesar found Narbo in a panic, and quelled it by going to work. He raised the local militia, sent commissioners into the lands of the Volcae Tectosages around Tolosa to do the same, and showed the duumviri who administered the city whereabouts they needed to strengthen their fortifications. Inside the forbidding stronghold of Carcasso most of the western end of the Province's armor and armaments were stored; as they came out for distribution people began to feel more confident, more settled.
Caesar had already sent to Tarraco in Nearer Spain, where Pompey's legate Lucius Afranius had his headquarters, and to Corduba in Further Spain, where Pompey's other legate, Marcus Petreius, governed. Answers from both men were waiting in Narbo; they were levying extra troops and intended to draw themselves up on the frontier, prepared to move to rescue Narbo and Tolosa if the need arose. No one understood better than these hoary viri militares that Rome—and Pompey—wanted no independent Gallic state on the other side of the Pyrenees.
Lucius Caesar arrived with Decimus Brutus and the Fifteenth on the day they were expected; Caesar sent his thanks to the legion and put Lucius Caesar to work at once.
"The Narbonese have steadied down remarkably since they heard I'm leaving them a consular of your standing right
here to govern the Province," he said, lifting one eyebrow. "Just make sure the Volcae Tectosages, the Volcae Arecomici and the Helvii get plenty of equipment. Afranius and Petreius will be waiting on the other side of the border in case they're needed, so I'm not very worried about Narbo. It's incursions among the outlying tribes I fear." Caesar turned to Decimus Brutus. "Decimus, is the Fifteenth fully prepared for a winter campaign?"
"Yes."
"What about their feet?"
"I've had every soldier empty his kit on the ground for an inspection just to make sure. The centurions will report to me tomorrow at dawn."
"They weren't very good centurions last year. Can you trust their judgement? Ought you perhaps to inspect in person?"
"I think that would be a mistake," said Decimus Brutus evenly; he was not in the least afraid of Caesar and always spoke frankly. "I trust them because if I can't trust them, Caesar, then the Fifteenth won't do well anyway. They know what to look for."
"You're quite right. I've requisitioned all the rabbit, weasel and ferret pelts I could find, because socks won't be enough protection for the men's feet where I intend to take them. I've also got every woman in Narbo and for miles around weaving or knitting scarves for their heads and mitts for their hands."
"Ye Gods!" exclaimed Lucius Caesar. "Where are you planning to take them, to the Hyperboreans?"
"Later," said Caesar, departing.
"I know," Lucius Caesar sighed, looking ruefully at Hirtius. "I'll be told when I need to know."
"Spies," said Hirtius briefly, following Caesar out.
"Spies? In Narbo?"
Decimus Brutus grinned. "Probably not, but why take chances? There's always some native boiling inside with resentment."
"How long will he be here?"
"He'll be gone by the beginning of April."
"Six days from now."
"The only things which might hold him up are scarves and mitts, but I doubt that. He probably wasn't exaggerating when he said he'd put every woman to making them."
"Will he tell the soldiers where he's taking them?"
"No. He'll simply expect them to follow him. Nothing beats shouting for disseminating news, a fact of which the Gauls are well aware. To shout his intentions at an assembly of the troops would inform all of Narbo. The next thing, Lucterius would know."
Though Caesar did enlighten his legates over dinner on the last day of March—but only after the servants had been dismissed and guards posted in the corridors.
"I'm not usually so secretive," he said, reclining at his ease, "but in one respect Vercingetorix is right. Gallia Comata does have the numbers to eject us. Only, however, if Vercingetorix is given time and opportunity to get all the men he plans to marshal for his summer campaign into the field right now. At the moment he has somewhere between eighty and a hundred thousand. But when he calls a general muster in Sextilis, that number will swell to a quarter-million, perhaps many more. What I have to do is beat him by Sextilis."
Lucius Caesar drew in his breath on a hiss, but said nothing.
"He hasn't planned on any Roman activity in the field before Sextilis and high spring, which is why he hasn't got more men with him right now. All he intends to do during the winter is subdue the recalcitrant tribes. Thinking me safely on the wrong side of the Alps, and sure that when I come he can prevent my joining up with my troops. Sure that he'll have time to return to Carnutum and supervise a general muster.
"Therefore," Caesar went on, "Vercingetorix must be kept far too busy to call that general muster early. And I have to reach my legions within the next sixteen days. But if 1 go up the Rhodanus valley through the Province, Vercingetorix will know I'm coming before I'm halfway to Valentia. Still well down inside the Province. He'll move to block me at Vienne or Lugdunum. I'm only one man with one legion. I won't get through."
"But there's no other way you can go!" said Hirtius blankly.
"There is another way. When I leave Narbo at dawn tomorrow morning, Hirtius, I'll be marching due north. My scouts tell me that Lucterius's army is further west, besieging the Ruteni at their oppidum of Carantomagus. Faced with a war of this magnitude, the Gabali have decided—quite prudently, really, given their proximity to the Arverni—to join Vercingetorix. They're very busy arming and training for the mission they've been allocated in the spring—to subdue the Helvii."
Caesar paused for maximum dramatic effect before coining to his denouement. "I intend to pass east of Lucterius and the Gabali oppida and enter the Cebenna massif."
Even Decimus Brutus was shocked. "In winter?"
"In winter. It's possible. I traversed the high Alps at a height of well over ten thousand feet when I hurried from Rome to Genava to stop the Helvetii. They said I couldn't cross through the high pass, but I did. Admittedly it was still autumn by the seasons, but at ten thousand feet winter is always there. An army couldn't have managed—the path was a goat track all the way down to Octodurum—but the Cebenna isn't as formidable as that, Decimus. The passes lie at no more than three or four thousand feet, and there are roads of a sort. The Gauls travel from one side of the massif to the other in force, so why shouldn't I?"
"I can't think of one reason why," said Decimus hollowly.
"The snow will lie deep, but we can dig our way through it."
"So you intend to enter the Cebenna at the sources of the Oltis and come down on the western bank of the Rhodanus somewhere near Alba Helviorum?" asked Lucius Caesar, who had been talking to Gauls at every opportunity and learning as much as he could ever since Caesar had given him command of the Province.
"No, I thought I'd stay in the Cebenna for somewhat longer than that," Caesar answered. "If we can manage, I'd rather come out of the massif as close as possible to Vienne. The longer we stay out of sight, the less time I afford Vercingetorix. I want him to come after me before he has a chance to call his muster. Vienne I must visit because I hope to pick up an experimental force of four hundred German horse troopers there. If Arminius of the Ubii kept his word, they should be there now getting used to handling their new horses."
"So you're giving yourself sixteen days to negotiate the Cebenna in winter and join up with your legions at Agedincum," said Lucius Caesar. "That's a distance of well over four hundred miles, a lot of it through deep snow."
"Yes. I intend to average twenty-five miles a day. We'll do many more than that between Narbo and the Oltis, and after we come down to Vienne. If we slow to fifteen miles a day across the worst of the Cebenna, we'll still be in Agedincum on time." He looked at his cousin very seriously. "I don't want Vercingetorix to know exactly where I am at any given moment, Lucius. Which means I have to move faster than he can credit. I want him utterly bewildered. Where is Caesar? Has anyone heard where Caesar is? And every time he's told, he'll discover that was four or five days earlier, so whereabouts am I now?"
"He's an amateur," said Decimus Brutus thoughtfully.
"Exactly. Large ambition, small experience. I don't say he lacks courage or even military ability. But the advantages lie with me, don't they? I have the mind, the experience—and more ambition than he'll ever know. But if I'm to beat him, I have to keep forcing him to make the wrong decisions."
"I hope you didn't neglect to pack your sagum," said Lucius, grinning.
"I wouldn't part from my sagum for all the world! It once belonged to Gaius Marius. When Burgundus came into my service he brought it with him. It's ninety years old, it stinks to the sky no matter how many herbs I pack it in, and I hate every day I have to spend wearing it. But I tell you, they don't make a sagum like that anymore, even in Liguria. The rain just rolls off it, the wind can't get through it, and the scarlet is as bright as the day it came off someone's loom."
The Fifteenth left Narbo without any wagons at all. The centurions' tents were deposited upon mules; so were the extra pila, the tools and heavier digging equipment. Everything else, including Caesar's treasured artillery, started out the long way up the Rhodanus valley, its arrival time
anybody's guess. Each legionary member of an octet carried five days' supply of food, with another eleven loaded onto a second octet mule together with the heavier gear out of his pack. The lighter by fifteen pounds, each soldier marched with a will.
And Caesar's fabled luck went with him, for the great snake coiled its way north in the midst of a thin fog which reduced visibility to a minimum and allowed it passage undetected by Lucterius or the Gabali. It entered the Cebenna in light snow and began immediately to climb; Caesar intended to cross the watershed to the east side as soon as possible, then remain within the higher crags as long as he could find reasonable ground to traverse.
The snow quickly deepened to six feet, but had stopped falling. Each century among the sixty was rotated in turn to the front of the column to take its share of digging a clear path; for safety's sake the men moved four abreast instead of eight, and the mules were led in single file over what seemed the most solid terrain. There were accidents from time to time when the path collapsed into a crevice or the mountain fell away taking a man with it, but losses were rare and rescues many. So much snow rendered tumbles easier on the bones.
Caesar remained on foot for the duration of the march and took his turn with a shovel in the digging party, mainly to cheer the men on and enlighten them as to where they were going and what they were likely to find when they got there. His presence was always a comfort; most of them had turned eighteen, but that was not the full measure of a man inside his mind or his body, and they still suffered from homesickness. Caesar wasn't a father to them, because none of them could imagine in their wildest fantasies having a father like Caesar, but he emanated a colossal confidence in himself which wasn't tarnished by a consciousness of his own importance, and with him they felt safe.
"You're turning into a moderately good legion," he would inform them, grinning hugely. "I doubt the Tenth could go very much faster than you are, though they've been in the field for nine years. You're only babies! There's hope for you yet, boys!"
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