* * *
‘This is one of their main settlements?’
Galronus relayed the question to the native scout, who rattled off a long answer that had the Remi noble frowning as he tried to penetrate the thick, unfamiliar accent. Finally he nodded to the man and turned back to Fronto.
‘There are maybe five or six major towns of the Begerri . The main one – the king’s capital – is a fortress called Biguro a little more than twenty miles further east, though if we’re following the river up to the mountains we’ll not go near there. Then there are a few low land places and some higher up toward the peaks. The Begerri cover a large area. Much larger than the other tribes we’ve passed through. And they have proper oppida.’
‘I can see that,’ Fronto said, sourly, peering across the flat ground to where the settlement, which had been labelled as Benarno by the scouts , rose on high ramparts. It did not display those strong walls Fronto remembered from the north and the Belgae lands. These were not ramparts built in what the engineers liked to call murus gallicus style, with a framework of timber infilled with rubble and faced with good solid stone . These were more like walls cobbled together from rubble with periodic timber – simple stone faces with occasional upright beams amid the face. Less solid, Fronto surmised, than the heavier defences of the north.
Whether t he fact that the gate lay open relieved him or not , Fronto couldn’t decide.
‘I think the army can stay down here on the plain. The sun’s already on the descent , but I’m not sure whether this place is a good one for a camp yet. The terrain’s good, and the scouts have checked the surroundings for a mile or two, but these dead towns give me the creeps.’
Galronus nodded his understanding and his agreement.
‘So do we check the town? ’
‘This is a big place. Not like that little depot. It’ d take hours for the three of us to search it.’ Fronto turned to Masgava. ‘Have the legion stop on the plain between Benarno and the river. Tell them to fall out, eat, drink a little posca and wait, but keep everyone alert. Anything could happen at short notice.’
He then turned back to Galronus. ‘Have all the scouts that have reported back move into the town and begin to search it. You and I will go to the nemeton first – see if we can find anything informative.’
Galronus waved the scout back over and issued the orders, and Fronto peered once more at Benarno. At perhaps three hundred paces long by two hundred wide, the town sat atop a natural ridge around a mile from the river. It held an estimated sixty or seventy buildings , which made it little more than a village by comparison with some of the oppida in the north and east, but one of the larger, more populous settlements they had found in the south - west. And maybe three hundred paces from the oppidum, atop a small mound of its own, the outriders had reported finding a small grove and temple.
Finally, the scout s were gathered and moving off into the town, and Fronto and Galronus veered off as the legion began to arrive and rest, making for the smaller wooded mound close to the town. There were no defences around the nemeton, but a hedge of cunningly-tended living bushes was interwoven as impenetrably as any wicker fencing. The two riders completed a circuit of the place before finding the entrance, which faced north . There was no gate, but the misshapen, lumpy-faced figure of some god or other stood to one side with an expression of constipated disapproval and a face full of lichen. The path was well-tended, though weeds had begun to grow through, suggesting that it had been empty for only a matter of weeks. That was much more recent than other places they had found so far, and Fronto felt the hope of discovery rise a little within.
The trees along the path that led to the low summit were again well-trimmed and tended, and emerging into the heart of the druid’s domain, Fronto felt that familiar thrill of nervous energy he always experienced when entering a place of power. On c e upon a time it had been an interesting thing, but that grove with the girl flautist and the gory recreation of Epona he had encountered a few years ago had changed everything, and now he felt tense and twitchy entering such a place.
It seemed, from Fronto’s experience, that every nemeton was different, even within a tribe or region – as different as the druids themselves. He had found stunning constructions, rural temples, simple shrines, woodland glades and more in his time in Gaul. This one was something of a composite.
The centre of the small wooded hill held a circular glade of lush green grass. At the centre, a tree of unbelievable antiquity rose toward the heavens, its branches imploring the gods, each reaching up like an arm in supplication. The trunk was oddly bare of branches for the first ten feet, and naturally so, showing no sign of interference by man. In front of the tree sat a small deep pool, lined with smooth flat stones and surrounded by a ring of white gravel. Then came a circle of painted logs and a low wall. Beyond that the grass was deep green and pleasant , still kept cropped short by the two sheep that ambled around the periphery , seemingly uninterested in wandering off through the gateway to freedom. Around the circle, the well looked after trees again presented bare trunks up to around ten feet , and each had some sort of stylised creature etched into the bark. At the far side to the entrance stood a small building that could only contain one room, stone-built with a roof of thatch.
‘This is a particularly careful druid,’ Galronus noted as he dismounted and tied his horse to a purpose-made rail near the entrance . ‘This place is beautiful and well-kept.’
‘ I was thinking the same,’ Fronto replied, following suit. ‘ Come on.’
As the y entered the circle, rather than skirting around the turf, the Remi noble led them across the various concentric lines toward the tree and the well . Reaching the pool, Galronus muttered something in his native tongue and slipped a ring from his finger, tossing it into the water. Fronto’s brow arched at the sight. He remembered his friend paying a small fortune for that gold ring outside the Circus Maximus, because its representation of the Capitoline triad of Jupiter, Juno and Minerva reminded him of some three faced god worshipped by the Remi. What had just dropped into that pool represented several months’ wages for a legionary.
Still, every bit of help might be important in this uncertain campaign.
Fronto paused at the pool and patted down his tunic. He had coins in his pouch, but gods liked something personal over mere monetary value. His glorious sword was going too far, of course, even with the new dent across one face. He still wore his simple, perfect torc, but that had been a gift years ago from Galronus, and he was not about to discard it. That left either one of the twin goddesses that hung on thongs around his neck, or one of the two rings he wore.
Fortuna? No. He would almost certainly need all the luck he could get this next few months. Nemesis? Only a truly short-sighted idiot slighted a vengeance goddess. The family signet? To throw that ring was essentially to admit the end of the Roman line of the Falerii, as the senate seemed to be aiming for. No. It was one small link to what had been lost and needed to be recaptured.
With a sigh, he pulled the other ring from his middle finger and peered at it for a moment, with its rather stylised image of Mars standing with spear and shield. That also felt like a betrayal and an ending, for it had been a gift from Verginius all those years ago. Still, of all the valuables he had about his person, it was the one with the fewest links to the current world. The ring disappeared with a plop into the deep sacred well and he saw Galronus giving him an odd look. Unwilling to be drawn, he straightened, cast a quick prayer for protection and the successful conclusion of their mission, then started to stride on toward the small building. Galronus was by his side again a moment later as they approached the door.
A low keening sound suddenly arose from within, and Fronto’s hand went to the hilt of his sword before the noise changed pitch and began to warble into a melody. His fingers stayed at the weapon, though, even as the pair moved into the doorway.
‘Hello?’ Fronto said as lightly and airily as he could manage, though
a lead-heavy sense of presence was beginning to weigh on him in this sacred place.
The song stopped instantly, and the voice from the shadows said ‘Latin?’
‘I am a Roman officer,’ Fronto said quietly, feeling it best to lay out the situation clear ly straight away
‘Yet you cast offerings to Leherenno, who knows not your people except as an invader.’
Fronto smiled. ‘Foreigner or local, only a fool angers a god.’
There was a hoarse laugh, and a figure rose from the floor in the shadow. emerging into the light from the door. Fronto almost recoiled. The druid was hideous. His eyes had been put out, and two ruined, raw sockets stared at him, their eyelids g one too. His cheeks, from eyes to chin, were lacerated with many vertical cuts that were only a few days old and were still crusted with blood. His ragged grey hair was dirty and caked with gore , and the concentration of dark red at the sides led Fronto to suspect that both ears had been cut off . His left arm was so heavily slashed with knife wounds that it looked as though he wore a striped sleeve, and his right arm had gone at the shoulder. Other injuries there probably were, but it was impossible to tell as the man’s once-white robe was now a dark red and black, stained beyond redemption.
‘Belenos!’ snarled Galronus, with a rare invocation of his native gods, and he and Fronto rushed over, the legate’s hand leaving his sword and reaching instead for the ravaged druid.
‘Curious that the people of the mountains would turn on their own and it takes a Roman to show sympathy,’ the druid said, and smiled. Fronto shivered as that smile opened up the cheek wounds again.
‘Who would do this to you?’ the legate said in a breathy tone. ‘I thought your people venerated you above almost all things?’
‘My people?’ Again the man laughed. ‘I am no longer sure who my people are . We were the Begerri, but it seems the Begerri are to be no more, for the smiling demon in the mountains has proclaimed a change.’
‘Smiling demon?’
The man seemed to ignore the prompt . ‘The Begerri are now part of the Convenae. The Consoranni, too. And others. Our great heritage is to be purged and a new heritage of mindless subservience created as the Convenae. My king is dead, butchered for refusing to serve another, and his son is a king in name only, for he serves the smiling demon like some lackey.’
‘Smiling demon?’ prompted Fronto again.
‘ And now the Begerri are gone. You have been to the town?’
Fronto nodded, and Galronus tried to indicate to him that the druid couldn’t see.
‘Yes. Well, my scouts are looking around it now. It’s empty?’
‘It is. The women and children, the old and the lame, they are among the Convenae now in the mountains. Not I, for I refused to go, and this is my punishment. But, Roman, be prepared, for whoever they serve, the Begerri are warriors born and warriors bred. A thousand seasons of battle have prepared them for any war to come, and they wait for you.’
Fronto stepped back. ‘The Begerri wait for us?’
‘Their stinking master uses them as a rampart to hold you and thin your ranks. They wait for you at Biguro. They have left signs in blood and misery to direct you there.’
‘We found one of them.’
‘You respect the gods and have a good heart for a Roman. I would save you all the pain I can. In the best world, you would turn around and march away from the mountains. You will find only pain and destruction there. ’ Fronto opened his mouth, but the druid smiled and went on. ‘I know you will not. Romans are the only ones I have met who are more bloody-minded than us. But still, I counsel that you leave. Remember when this is over that I told you not to go on. But if you do, you can march south from here to the mountains, where you will find your true enemy. You need not meet the foolish warriors of my tribe. You need not take Biguro.’
‘Tell me about this smiling demon.’
‘ I cannot. I am bound by gossamer chains and oaths of iron and stone. I know that everything I counsel you will ignore, but it is my place to counsel it anyway. And when you do ignore it I pray that Leherenno protects you and that your pain is bearable.’
With that the druid retreated into the shadows away from the door.
‘We can help you. I have a medicus with me , and several field-physicians.’
‘The shade and the breeze sooth my wounds and I take comfort in knowing that my revenge will be enacted, even if I counsel against it. Leave me .’
Fronto opened his mouth to argue, but Galronus gestured to the door. With a frustrated sigh, the legate followed his friend back out into the fresh air. A curious sheep looked up from nearby and, apparently consigning Fronto to the category ‘uninteresting’ , went back to cropping the grass.
‘Abusing a druid?’ he said as they strode away from the hut back toward the horses. ‘This bastard has some guts.’
‘He advised you not to go to Biguro. We don’t need to fight them.’
‘But he also knew I’d go. From a personal viewpoint, I want to stamp on this. Their warriors need to be shown a lesson in not following madmen and breaking their oath . From a military stance, only a poor general leads his legion on into enemy territory while leaving a slavering enemy force intact behind him. That’s an excellent way to get trapped and obliterated. No, we have to take on the Begerri. We have to take Biguro. But we have been relieved of one burden , at least .’
‘Oh?’ Galronus mused. ‘What is that?
‘He said that their civilians were up in the mountains. Only the warriors are at Biguro. That means we don’t need to pull our punches. I don’t like mad violent assaults if there’s a chance of killing an innocent populace, and it sounds a lot to me like the Begerri are victims here as much as they are dupes. We can throw everything we have at Biguro and know that only enemy warriors will be struck by it.’
Galronus nodded his agreement. ‘It’s not much of a relief, but it’s something at least. You might have been right before. You know, when you compared this to Vercingetorix. There are clear parallels.’
‘No,’ Fronto said as they reached the horses and he climbed into the saddle. ‘No, this is different. The Arvernian rebel modelled his revolt on the Greek world. As they had leagues made up of city states, he had a grand force formed from individual tribes, and though they all fought for him, they maintained their autonomy. Their leaders still led them. This is different. This is more like Rome.’
‘Like Rome?’
Fronto nodded as the pair kicked their horses’ flanks and urged them back through the entrance and away from the sacred grove. ‘Once upon a time, Rome was just a small settlement on a hill. Then they started to take over their troublesome neighbours and expand. Soon we were enveloping tribes all over Italia. T here were Etruscans and Oscans and Samnites and so on, but they’re all Romans. They might still think of themselves as Oscan while they teach their kids, but they still go to a forum to register with clerks and they still obey the laws that come out of Rome and they still cheer the consuls. And having lost their own leaders and institutions, gradually they’ve lost their identity. Now, they’re all Romans. That’s what this man is doing – this king in the mountains, this smiling demon. I’ve never met him, but alre ady I hate him. I hate what he’s doing to these people, and that makes me rather uncomfortable, given that this is exactly what my own ancestors did to our local tribes.’
‘ Whatever is going on down here, and whoever this king is,’ Galronus said quietly, but with malice in his voice, ‘Caesar was right to send us. This needs to stop.’
The pair rode in silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts. The scouts were visible here and there on the ramparts of Benarno, but it was clear from conversation with the druid that they would find nothing there. The warriors were all at Biguro, luring Fronto’s legion to battle, and the civilians were up in the mountains as part of this new tribe, and would have taken with them anything worth taking. This new ‘Con venae’ answered a few questions . Not least: where were all the
people going from these abandoned places all over Aquitania.
The legion was now falling out across the plain, relaxing as best they could in their brief rest. As the two riders closed on the army, Fronto spotted Carbo, Arruntius, Atenos and Masgava in discussion and veered toward them.
‘Gentlemen.’
The officers broke off their conversation and turned to Fronto, saluting.
‘It seems the Begerri are waiting fo r us at their capital of Biguro, twenty miles or so east of here. There is a badly wounded druid at the nemeton, who has refused any assistance, but who counselled us to simply avoid Biguro and head south. I am not accustomed to leaving enemies behind me, so we will move on Biguro and remove the warriors there first. And whatever he said, that druid needs medical attention. I want the medicus and a pair of orderlies, along with a couple of the more local native scouts, to visit the nemeton and render him assistance, calmly and carefully, but firmly.’
He slipped from Bucephalus . ‘Moreover, we’re moving on slowly. We’ll spend the night here and move eight miles the next three days. That should ensure the men are as rested as possible when we arrive at Biguro and in the best position to utterly crush the Begerri. There are no civilians there, just warriors, so unless they surrender when we arrive, we will give no quarter.’
‘And although we’re moving into ever more dangerous territory and about to march into a probably fierce fight, I want the next five hundred men chosen from the lists. We will be leaving a garrison here to found a new colony. Riders can be sent back to the one at Sorda linking everything up and sending word to Lapurda. And while they’re at it they can see if a wine shipment can be sent back along the line at speed. The men are going to want to celebrate or commiserate in the coming days.’
‘Doesn’t look like there’s anything in the town, sir,’ Carbo noted. ‘The scouts haven’t shouted or reported in.’
‘I doubt they’ll find anything interesting at all. The populace is all either in Biguro or up in the mountains, and that is something I think we need to discuss. Give the command to set up camp for the night and as soon as everything’s moving, meet me up in the chief’s house in town, and bring all the officers and senior centurions. There have been interesting developments I think you all need to hear.’
Marius' Mules IX: Pax Gallica Page 15
