A little more than twenty miles from the Rhodanus, they reached the second of the winter quarters: a fortress for the Eighth and Eleventh legions positioned on a hill near a sleepy, peaceful oppidum that went by the name of Alesia. Caesar had issued orders to Fabius and Cicero to strike camp and move at speed to Agedincum, and the riders had left the camp in sudden throes of activity, skirting the huge upturned-boat shape of Alesia and riding for Agedincum.
‘There she is,’ Priscus sighed with audible relief, pointing ahead as the party rounded a small stand of trees and the massive six-legion complex that sprawled on the edge of the native town of Agedincum came into view. Three times the size of the town it hugged, the winter camp gave off the smoke of dozens of cooking fires and rang with the noises of a hundred blacksmiths and armourers hammering metal upon metal. The distinctive sounds of parade marches and weapon drills echoed across the landscape.
Fronto rubbed his rump and winced. There was precious little skin left around his coccyx if he was any judge and he had a horrible feeling that all the bruises had joined up and left him with a blue-grey backside. ‘I shall be glad to rest. Preferably sink into a nice warm bath.’
‘I offered to tend to your pains,’ muttered Masgava, riding along close behind.
‘Thank you, but one thing I try not to do is spend my evenings with a large, scarred Numidian professional killer rubbing oil across my buttocks.’
Palmatus snorted laughter, but Masgava merely shrugged. ‘You’d have lived a sore and unpleasant life in the arena if you can’t let another man massage you.’
Fronto turned to him. ‘It’s not that I…’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Priscus, just try and talk sense into him.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ grinned the prefect. ‘I think you ought to give it a try. Let Masgava get himself all oiled up and ready, and you can strip down to your bare blue arse and let him have some fun.’
Fronto turned his back pointedly on the pair of them and opened his mouth to address Caesar before spotting the wicked grin on the general’s face.
‘It really isn’t funny.’
‘If you say so, Marcus.’
Fronto cleared his throat noisily. ‘What’s the plan now, sir? The troops will have all-but exhausted their winter stores, and are probably wondering when more will be forthcoming. I’m quite surprised Labienus hasn’t been tempted to bring the legions south when the supply lines were cut.’
Caesar shook his head. ‘They had adequate supplies to last until spring. Labienus is too sensible to strike such defensive camps and risk his forces, given what happened the winter before. Besides, even if the supplies ran low, they could get by. The Eighth and Eleventh had supplemented by foraging the local area and impounding what they could get away with.’
‘Easier for two legions to survive like that than six, general.’
‘Supplies will not be an issue, Marcus. As soon as all ten legions have met up, we will be moving west. There is a high probability from local rumour that the Carnutes are now eating out of Vercingetorix’s hand. Our supply hub at Cenabum is deep in Carnute lands – their commercial centre, in fact – and we must secure it and subdue the Carnutes first. Then we will turn towards the true enemy.’
‘That doesn’t resolve supply issues, general.’
‘It partially resolves them, Fronto. Cenabum is a major supply hub, and I feel sure that the stores still held there will keep us in the field for a time. But in addition, en route to Cenabum - perhaps halfway - is the Senone city of Vellaunoduno, which is renowned for its wheat production and stacked granaries.’
‘And what if the Senones are also allied with Vercingetorix,’ Fronto queried. ‘They are apparently at peace here in Agedincum, but there are six legions to consider here. Not so further west.’
‘The Senones are nominally still our allies, but if they baulk at supplying us, I will not hesitate to grind them beneath our heel on the way. Never fear, Fronto. I will feed the legions on the march. Vercingetorix thought to raise Gaul while keeping the army cut off. We have beaten him, though. In a couple of days we will have all ten legions combined and under my control. The Arvernian rebel tried, and he has failed. Now we begin the task of making him pay for his temerity.’
‘I only hope the legions are ready to move quickly, then. It can take a while after they’ve spent months languishing in winter quarters.’
* * * * *
‘Will the legions be ready so soon? ’
Marcus Antonius, along with Labienus the most senior of Caesar’s officers at Agedincum, idly scratched himself as he gulped down the last of his wine by the flickering firelight before replying.
‘The commanders here aren’t daft, Fronto. They’ve known trouble is afoot. A Boii scout called Bennacos arrived over a month ago bearing Cita’s family seal. He’d witnessed the downfall of Cenabum and his news put the whole army on high alert. Labienus has made no overt move without a missive from Caesar, but the winter quarters’ defences have been strengthened, and the legions have been ready to deploy for weeks now, their spring training schedule implemented early, deep in winter. Any one of those men out there can march out tomorrow as fit and ready and equipped as if they hadn’t been called to action weeks before the campaign season even begins.’
Fronto nodded and drained his own wine cup as the senior officer refilled his and then passed over the jar. ‘This changes things a little, though,’ the legate grumbled. ‘The scout’s news, I mean. If the Carnutes have flattened Cenabum and everything in it, we can hardly use it as a supply base now.’
‘It changes nothing, Fronto. The grain will still be there, just feeding the rebels instead of us. Now we have extra incentive to take the place, for Nemesis watches us with a blazing eye. Cita and the garrison should not go unavenged.’
Nodding his acceptance of the comment, Fronto bent to rub his knee and flexed his leg a few times.
‘Joint trouble?’
‘Old knee injury. Started to play up again when the weather’s cold and wet.’
‘That,’ Masgava grunted, ‘is because you don’t train as much as you should any more. It is weakening again.’
‘Can you not lay off me for even one evening,’ sighed Fronto, but he noted Palmatus nodding his agreement and made a mental note to make time for a little more exercise. If it didn’t strengthen his knee at least it would diminish Masgava’s nagging.
‘The Tenth have been itching to head over to Cenabum for the past few weeks and teach the Carnutes a lesson,’ Atenos, the huge, muscular centurion said with an ominous tone. Carbo tried to argue the commanders into letting us go three times, but Labienus was having none of it.’
Carbo nodded. ‘Kept bringing up phrases like ‘duty’, ‘chain of command’, ‘better safe than sorry’ and so on. I understand why he’s not moved, and maybe he was sensible, but the men would appreciate the chance to use their winter training to avenge the Cenabum garrison. Some of them were our own lads, after all.’
Antonius chuckled. ‘At least the Tenth did as they were told,’ he snorted, sipping his wine. ‘Varus had rather more trouble.’
Fronto frowned as he turned his gaze on the cavalry commander. ‘What with?’
Varus sighed as he scratched his head. ‘We’ve got a new unit of German auxiliary cavalry. Drawn from three different tribes, but all trained up by the best officers we’ve got and equipped with the top gear they can draw. They look like a Roman unit, though bigger and hairier. But… well, you can take the warrior out of Germania, but you cannot take Germania out of the warrior, apparently. No matter how much we try and train them, they’re more or less primitive head-hunters with an overwhelming thirst for blood and little interest in authority.’
‘They sound delightful,’ Fronto muttered.
‘They’re bloody dangerous,’ Atenos noted.
‘And possibly just as much to us as to the enemy,’ added Carbo.
‘It seems,’ Varus said with a quirky smile, ‘that one of your men, who had a cousin killed
at Cenabum and had taken it rather badly, was mouthing off about the need for revenge. He was rather steamed, you see - barely able to stand, and angry-drunk. And he happened to be near a few of the German cavalry.’
‘For whom angry-drunk is the normal state,’ chuckled Atenos.
‘Indeed, Varus acceded. ‘Well about two dozen of the Germanics decided to try out their new horse kit on the Carnutes in revenge, despite Labienus’ orders to the contrary. My boys had to chase them down over eight miles from here to stop them, and two regular cavalry troopers were wounded bringing them back in. They’re rabid. Hard to contain, but I can’t wait to see what they do when they’re given free rein on a battlefield.’
‘I can,’ shuddered Carbo. ‘I hope they’re nowhere near me at the time. I foresee them being a little indiscriminate.’
The tent fell silent for a moment as Antonius topped up his wine again, tipping the jug upside down to drain the last few drops. ‘Shall I get another?’
‘I think we ought to call it a night now,’ Fronto murmured, with a hint of regret. ‘We move out to Vellaunoduno early in the morning.’
‘Besides,’ Palmatus added, nudging Masgava, ‘our unit is dangerously undermanned. We need to go through the Tenth’s records tonight and see which of Carbo’s best men we can purloin.’
Chapter 5
Close to Aedui lands, by the river Liger.
Vercingetorix wiped the chill drizzle from his face and watched the lead elements of the other army break off from the main force, as they descended from the low hillside and the protection of the trees that covered it.
‘Do we sound the carnyx?’ Vergasillaunus asked quietly. Behind them the Arverni and their allied forces spread out across the plain and back as far as the river, where they were still funnelling across the bridge in the miserable damp blanket of grey.
The Arvernian king shook his head. ‘They are riding out to talk, whoever they are. Besides, while they are a large force, we are larger by far. They cannot think to attack us. Wait until we can identify their insignia.’
The two men sat on their heavy steeds at the head of the vast sprawl of warriors, watching intently. ‘What standards do you see?’ the king murmured to his cousin, a man renowned for, among other things, impressive eyesight. Vergasillaunus squinted into the obfuscating mist, shaking his head. ‘Just the usual boars, I think… though… wait.’ He rubbed his eyes and squinted more. ‘Crosses and the one-eyed head.’
‘Cadurci!’
Despite the realisation that the approaching army was a force of allies rather than enemies, they were equally unexpected, and their arrival could portend nothing good. The Cadurci were supposed to be busy freeing the tribes of Roman Narbonensis now.
‘Come,’ the king said, and kicked his horse into motion, trotting down the sodden slope with his cousin quickly coming alongside, some of the nobles and chiefs of his army following close behind, uninvited. Some quarter of a mile away, as the two groups of riders converged on a small stand of trees, the opposing commander and his companion rode ahead to meet them. The fine, cold drizzle filtered down from the leaden clouds above creating a grey world that chilled the bones, and the general atmosphere matched the mood of Lucterius of the Cadurci, judging by his expression.
‘Narbo remains unconquered?’ Vercingetorix was keeping a tight control of his temper, his cousin realised. The king was not a man given to outbursts or fits of uncontrolled rage, but the two things he despised, even above failure, were treachery and cowardice. That the Cadurci might be here, apparently unharmed, smacked of one of the other.
Lucterius bowed his head, but his eyes when he straightened again showed signs of neither treason nor fear. The leader of the Cadurci simply sighed.
‘My king, I bring dire news.’
‘Go on.’
‘Despite all our precautions and every care that we all took, something has gone wrong. We arrived in the Roman province to find Caesar there, mobilising the local garrison and with what appeared to be two well-equipped legions. They were already moving north when we came across them in the foothills.’
‘You fought them?’ Vergasillaunus frowned. The Cadurci and their allies looked like a strong, untouched army.
‘No. Even strong as we were, we would almost certainly have lost to ten thousand Roman legionaries. I decided it would be better to bring the army north once more and add our strength to yours, making sure that you had all the information. We would be no use to you spread across a southern hillside feeding the crows.’
Vercingetorix nodded slowly. He did not look happy, but the spark of anger had gone from his eyes. ‘You erred towards caution,’ the king murmured. ‘This is not a trait of prime value in a warrior, but it is essential in a leader. You did the right thing. I am surprised that Caesar is so well informed and so quick to move. I would give a gold torc to find out how he learned of our activities and how he reached Narbo without us finding out. The Romans do not like to begin their wars before their festival of weapons, and that is still months away. Caesar is as slippery and unpredictable as ever.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Did the Romans see you?’
‘As far as I can tell they were not aware of us at any point. As soon as we found them, we returned through the hills ahead of them. We moved west, past Albiga, and returned by the low, easy route, but word from the mountain tribes is that Caesar moved east and north, to cross the Cevenna passes.’
Vergasillaunus shrugged. ‘Then we have nothing to worry over, and the man is a fool. He cannot hope to cross those mountains in winter. His army will be bogged down in snow and forced back to Narbo.’
The king fixed him with an appraising look and shook his head. ‘He will have succeeded. A man who has managed to move so early and in force when we have done all we can to prevent it is not a man to be put off by a mountain pass, even in winter. No, Caesar did not stop, nor did he pause. If you saw him make for the Cevenna, he will be past it now.’
‘But that would put him in our own lands?’ murmured Vergasillaunus.
‘Yes. There are easier routes to the north and to his army. If he attempted the Cevenna passes in winter, then the Arverni have been his target from the start. He has taken a force of two legions to ravage our lands while we tarry here.’
A voice from behind burst out, carrying tones of panic. ‘Two legions at work in our land?’
Vercingetorix turned a rather dangerous look on the outspoken man, a Vellavi chieftain of the oppidum of Condate, subservient to the Arverni, but whose town lay at the northern end of the main passes across that range. Probably the place where Caesar descended the mountains. Condate was likely gone already. The chieftain apparently failed to notice the nuances in his king’s expression, since he spoke again without pause.
‘All out warriors are in the north, here to fight for you. Our people are undefended!’
Vercingetorix closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, the steel they carried made the chieftain recoil. ‘Caesar is trying to manoeuvre us. He is poking a sore tooth to see how we will respond.’
‘But we must go to their aid?’ the man pleaded, raising mumbles of agreement from some of the other leaders around him.
‘Abandon our gathering of armies here? Leave the Aedui to slide back into their Rome-ish ways? That is exactly what Caesar wishes. Can you not see?’
‘But…’
‘No.’ Vercingetorix turned to Lucterius. ‘When was this? When you last saw their army?’
‘Fifteen days. Perhaps sixteen.’
Vercingetorix shook his head again. ‘Caesar is not there anyway, now.’
‘He must be…’
‘No. Caesar has left men there to tempt us south, to break off our work here. And you know what will happen if we race to Arverni lands to help our uncles and cousins defend their farms?’
Vergasillaunus nodded. ‘While we are there, Caesar will rejoin his armies and untie all the bonds we have formed with the northern tribes, weakening us.’
T
he king ran his fingers down his moustaches, squeezing out trickles of rainwater. ‘Caesar is a clever man, so we must be more so. Whatever he wishes us to do, we avoid doing it. We must not fall into his traps. If he is trying to draw us south, then we must stay here and continue our work, but keep careful watch on what happens around us. The Aedui, I am convinced, are the key to power in the region. They are the largest tribe, even without the numerous others under their protection, and their support may tip the scales for either Caesar or us. We must have the Aedui, so I cannot abandon this campaign, even for the sake of our villages. There is more at stake here than our own tribe; we have to look at the whole picture, and not just see a corner that is important to us.’
He turned to the outspoken chief from Condate.
‘Take your men back south… no more than a thousand, though. Protect who you can, save who you can, and take stock of what you find there, then send a messenger to us with your answers. You will not find Caesar there, of that I am sure. I doubt, in fact, that you will find a solid veteran force there. This army in our lands is a phantom Caesar raises to panic us. Old men or young recruits in shiny armour.’
As the relieved-looking chieftain nodded and turned to ride back to his own warriors, the king sighed. ‘Settle your men in with the army, Lucterius. We have brought the Bituriges to our standards and have harried other small tribes. Now we go to destroy the Boii at Gorgobina and bring the Aedui’s nerves to new heights. Soon Caesar will be upon us, and I want that troublesome tribe with us and not with him.’
The Great Revolt Page 11
