Cavarinos frowned. He had to concede the point that during the Bibracte siege, the entire tribe still owed their oath to Rome. Besides, there was something more important preying on his mind right now.
‘What do you think you are doing?’
‘Killing hostages,’ shrugged Viridomarus casually.
‘What?’
‘The hostages Caesar had taken. The ones whose tribes have flocked to our banner have been sent back to their families. Those who hold to their oath with Rome are being executed as an extra incentive for their people to change their minds.’
‘That is barbaric and unacceptable,’ Cavarinos snapped. ‘How do you hope to attract faithful support with such cruelty?’
Behind him, Critognatos coughed. ‘Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. If they are not allies then they are enemies. Enemies deserve death. A Roman enemy might be killed with a sword blow in the field, but those of the tribes who support the enemy? Torture is their lot and I approve.’
Cavarinos turned to Vercingetorix. ‘This has to be stopped. Those men are the very people we fight for!’ His heart sank as he saw his king’s face.
‘No, Cavarinos. Your brother is correct. They have become the enemy. I might not have done things quite this way, but they are now the Aedui’s prisoners, and it is their choice how to proceed.’
‘We don’t serve the Aedui,’ Cavarinos growled. ‘They fight under our banner, not the other way round. It is in your power to stop this.’
‘Perhaps,’ the Arverni king conceded. ‘But it is not in my best interest to do so. Come. We have business above.’
Cavarinos stared at the rebel king’s back as the man wheeled his horse and climbed up to the road, his other men flocking close behind. Critognatos paused only long enough to throw a nasty look at him.
Is this what we’re fighting for? Cavarinos thought to himself as he followed on, a hollowness within him. His eyes burned into his brother’s back as they climbed.
* * * * *
‘You are the Arverni king,’ Viridomarus roared, rising to his feet amid the general din of the council chamber. ‘Just because your tribe feel the need to raise a king above themselves is no reason to foist the same despot upon all of us.’
Eporedirix reached up a restraining hand and tried to calm his friend as the chamber ebbed and flowed with admonitions and praises.
‘I do not wish to be king of the Aedui,’ Vercingetorix said quietly, and yet in a tone that cut through the noise. ‘I do not wish to rule your tribe. But in this critical moment in all our histories, it is critical that the tribes all work together as one nation. And with each tribe’s force here under independent command in the same manner as the Romans have their legions, we can only hope to make the most of that manoeuvrability and flexibility with one overall commander. I have prosecuted this war successfully thus far, despite shocks, setbacks…and treachery.’ He aimed this last at Viridomarus, whose face was livid purple. After all, the two recently-arrived Aedui may have struck an excellent blow at Noviodunum, but all who were at Gergovia could remember the Aedui cavalry arriving to serve Caesar because of this pair’s actions.
Viridomarus exploded in incoherent rage, his friend trying to keep him under control, though his anger was too great for his speech to be truly intelligible. Similarly, at the far side of the chamber, Critognatos rose angrily to his feet and started to jab the air in the direction of the livid Aeduan with an accusatory finger, yelling insults and imprecations, as Cavarinos sat back and watched his brother, shaking his head in distaste at this pointless bickering. It occurred to him that if Critognatos and Viridomarus were to command this army, the tribes might win, but what they would win would be a blood-soaked land, empty of people and light, unable to support life.
‘The Aedui should lead.’ The voice of Convictolitanis, the magistrate who ruled the Aedui, cut through the cacophony in much the same way as the Arverni king’s had. The bickering faded away.
‘Explain?’ Vergasillaunus requested quietly.
‘We are the greatest of the tribes. I do not want to belittle your achievements, which are magnificent, and without your boldness and effort, none of this would have happened. But the Aedui are the largest, strongest and richest tribe. We know the Romans better than any of you. Our capital - this great oppidum in which you now sit - is the greatest in the land and has a history of moots for the tribes. The Romans are now in our lands, which makes us the sensible commanders and gives us the most to lose. Surely the logic of all this cannot escape you. And above all, we are an elected rulership, who can be legally deposed and replaced. There is no danger of us deciding to remain your overlord when Caesar is gone, which is, I think, a large part of what worries the other tribes.’
‘Then let us ask them,’ threw in a new voice.
The Aeduan magistrate and the Arverni king, as well as most other eyes in the room, turned on Cavarinos, who shrugged.
‘The Aedui make a good case. I cannot deny it. And yet they are new to this war, which Vercingetorix is winning, having forced Caesar onto the defensive. We can argue about our validity all day, but this is a matter which affects all the tribes. The Romans call us “Gaul” as though we were one nation and, as my king has said: we need to be one nation in order to defeat Rome. We need to be Gaul. Well unless I am much mistaken there are nobles and ambassadors present from almost every tribe this side of the Rhenus and the Hispanic mountains. The Treveri are missing, for they are busy with German incursions, and the Remi and Lingones do not attend, for they remain tied to Caesar, along with those peoples on the southern borders who have been Roman so long they have forgotten who they were. But every other tribe deserving of mention is here. Let us moot as we have for Caesar in the past. Let the vote be cast for the leadership of the army.’
Silence fell as all regarded Cavarinos, and finally Vercingetorix and Convictolitanis shared a look and nodded. The Aeduan magistrate turned to his right hand man. ‘Fetch the voting sherds.’
The man nodded and opened a chest at the rear of the council chamber, drawing from it a large, heavy leather bag. Passing around the room as the buzz of ordinary conversation returned in place of the roar of anger, the Aeduan guard handed to each tribe’s leader two pieces of broken pot, one bearing the scratched and painted image of a boar and the other a rearing horse.
Another man set a large amphora into a recess in the floor at the room’s centre and cleared his throat. ‘Every tribe gets one vote. Cast your sherd into the pot appropriately: The horse for Aedui leadership, the boar for Arverni.’
Cavarinos looked across at Vergasillaunus as the sherds were passed to the king’s cousin, Vercingetorix being skipped as one of the proposed leaders. A lot rode on this moment. His eyes fell on the pot and he felt the tension in his body rise as the first man threw a vote in. He saw the Aedui horse flipping over and over into the darkness as the Mediomatrici put in their vote. Slowly, subtly, he reached down to his belt pouch and withdrew the wrapped bundle, unwinding the cloth and resting the curse of Ogmios openly upon his knee, in plain sight of all who approached the voting jar. He was rewarded by the sight of the Senone chief, who had been weighing the sherds in each hand, peering up at the curse and apparently coming to a decision, casting the boar into the pot.
A quarter of an hour was all it took and as the last, an ambassador for the distant Morini who faced Britannia across the water, cast his sherd, the two men who had carried out the voting duties lay out a wide, black blanket upon the ground. Carefully, they tipped the large amphora onto one side of it and began to lay out the pieces of pottery in two groups.
As the boar pile grew and grew, it became immediately apparent how the vote had gone. Across the room, lit by many lamps of Roman design, the Aeduan Magistrate gave a resigned sigh and nodded his sad acceptance of his lot. Critognatos leered at the Aedui noblemen and Viridomarus began to rise angrily once more, restrained only by the hands of Eporedirix.
There was no need to perform a count. It was plain from the relative size
s of the piles.
‘I will recognise no king over my people,’ snarled Viridomarus.
Vercingetorix rose and folded his arms. ‘The tribes have made their choice plain. But rest assured, Aedui friends, I have no intention of becoming king of your tribe. I accept the overlordship of all the peoples. The Romans cannot comprehend an alliance of tribes. They seek to make us one Gaul under their rule. Well one Gaul we shall be. Not beneath their rule, but atop their bodies.’
A bellow of approval rose from most throats in the hall, and the Arverni king noted Viridomarus’ sullen silence. He nodded as though coming to a decision.
‘The time has come to finish Caesar and to drive Rome from our lands once more. But we cannot finish there. Once Caesar is dead or in disgraced retreat to Rome, we must push back their border and recover what they call Narbonensis, freeing our brothers in the south, and the lands of the tribes beyond the Alpes, in the north of their own lands. This is the time to free all the tribes once more and come together as a great nation in defiance of Roman domination.’
Another roar greeted this, and even Viridomarus was nodding reluctantly.
‘The assembled tribes who have hitherto taken no part in the campaign will provide between them fifteen thousand horsemen, who should be able to be gathered and sent to the army swiftly. With them, we can hammer the legions of Caesar. I will take the cavalry from here, along with our own already assembled, and harry Caesar’s army, preventing him from foraging, while the rest of the army gathers and moves into position.’
He nodded to Convictolitanis. ‘The Aedui and Segusiavi will raise ten thousand infantry and eight hundred cavalry in the meantime. You may assign them Aedui generals as you see fit, and they will serve only under Aedui, to bring concord with those who disapprove of my overall command. You will take this army south, along with others you can raise from the allied tribes south of here. Crush those peoples at the borders who revel in their Romanness, and make the Romans fight for their own lands. As long as they are busy there, Caesar will find no succour from his own people.’
Viridomarus’ smile broadened. In a subtle move, the Arverni king had brought the Aedui to his side, and Cavarinos found himself heaving a sigh of relief as he rewrapped and pocketed the curse tablet. Finally, Caesar’s time in Gaul could be measured in weeks rather than years. The end was coming.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, he found himself picturing the Roman - Fronto - agreeing to a peaceful, merciful end to what could have been a bloodthirsty siege at Vellaunoduno, and watching his enemy walk away with their weapons and pride intact. And as that image soothed, so another mental picture burned: the Aeduan noble torturing and murdering their own peoples in a sacred place just for wavering in their voracity.
Still, when Caesar was beaten, which seemed likely any time now, such matters could be dealt with. Gaul, if it were to be a nation, must be created upon a foundation of respect and honour.
Respect, and honour.
Chapter 16
Near the Aeduan oppidum of Borvo
‘Now that is a welcome sight,’ Antonius sighed, and Fronto could not help but agree as the two men, along with several of the other officers, sat atop the slope and watched Labienus and his four legions stomping along the shallow valley towards them, passing below the deserted settlement. Every Aeduan town they had come across on their journey north towards Agedincum had been empty and stripped of food and goods, forcing them ever further to the east in search of food. The roving enemy horse bands had done their best to continue the ‘scorched earth’ tactics of the rebel king, but they had been too few to do a thorough job, and the Roman army had made it this far north without too much trouble, curving out east to find forage. A small party of cavalry had been sent ahead to Agedincum the moment they had crossed the river with orders to bring Labienus south and join up with the main force, the horsemen commanded to move fast but carefully, not attracting the attention of the roving enemy bands. They had been gone long enough to cause concern, but the arrival this morning of the Labienus’ forces put such doubts to rest. The native scouts among the messengers had once again proved their worth, managing to reunite the forces, despite the necessary change in course of Caesar’s army.
Now, despite the new Fifth and Sixth being in the south defending Narbonensis, the army once again numbered ten legions plus the large auxiliary contingent. There had been many murmurs among the officers concerning the trustworthiness of the native levies, given the array of tribes now turned against them. But Caesar had split the cavalry supplied by the now wavering or opposed tribes in amongst those from the peoples still allied and the regulars, and offered them high financial incentives to maintain their allegiance. Whether or not they did so when required remained to be seen, but with so few regular horse, the Roman general simply had to rely on the native levies.
‘What’s our estimated number now,’ Fronto asked quietly.
‘Assuming Labienus has suffered no disasters,’ Plancus replied, running his finger down the wax tablet list, ‘legionary contingent of between forty and forty-five thousand. Auxiliary infantry, archers, slingers and the like of around five thousand. Regular cavalry numbering perhaps two thousand. And native levies are difficult to assess, but estimated at around thirty thousand.’
‘Approximately eighty thousand men all in, then,’ Fronto nodded. ‘It’s a hell of an army. Will it be enough?’
The officers remained silent for a moment, each considering this question in the privacy of his own nervous mind. Scouts and local interrogations had confirmed throughout the three day march from Noviodunum that Vercingetorix and his army were on the move behind them. As might be expected from a people who were such natural horsemen, the enemy cavalry had moved ahead of their infantry and had apparently been disturbingly close on the heels of the Roman force, harrying a few lagging foragers as they went. But Caesar had pressed on as speedily as he could, knowing that the force at their heel outnumbered them and that only meeting up with Labienus and his legions could prevent disaster.
Indeed, for the past two days, the army had changed its marching order from the standard to a most unusual, defensive one. The baggage train had moved into the heart of the column, the legions arrayed in close order to either side, ready to protect, while the horse had been split into the three wings, roving around the column and changing position every few hours, ready for anything untoward, though with one always at the rear on watch. It was as prepared as they could hope to be.
‘What now? Do we turn to meet them with our full army?’
The general looked around at the army assembling from two directions. ‘No. They are still too many. We move on for Agedincum and let them come to us. Our march is dangerously slow, with the baggage train setting the pace, but we are far enough ahead that only their lead elements might catch us. This way, our forces are well rested, while the rebels are pushing and tiring themselves. With the blessing of Fortuna, perhaps they will suffer overconfidence after their earlier successes and commit to foolish action with only their vanguard. If not, we should reach Agedincum before their main army can strike us. It would give our men heart to do unto them as they did unto us at Gergovia. Either way, we win.’
The officers nodded their understanding. Even with eighty thousand men in the field - which was an estimate erring on the high side and they all knew it - the enemy numbered at least half that number again, and that was without any new recruits raised from Bibracte. To meet them in open battle without any other advantage would be foolhardy at best.
‘Let’s hope Fortuna is watching over us then,’ noted Fronto gripping the pendant beneath his tunic fervently.
‘And Mars and Minerva too,’ added Antonius with feeling.
* * * * *
‘And what are your estimates of their numbers?’ Vercingetorix asked the scout, the entire convocation of commanders hanging on the words attentively.
‘Some seventy thousand all in. Mostly legions or cavalry drawn from the tribes. I would
say of the horse, twenty five thousand of our people and sundry Roman horsemen among them, split into three groups.’
‘And they appear to be making for Agedincum?’
The scout nodded, and Vercingetorix sighed and scrubbed his untamed hair, wild and matted from days in the wilds. ‘Then we are faced with a choice, my friends. Do we continue to bring up the whole army and face Caesar with our forces complete, which almost certainly means we will be forced to besiege them in their main garrison, or do we leave our infantry to catch up as soon as they can and make an attempt to stop him reaching Agedincum with our horse in the meantime? Opinions?’
A thoughtful silence filled the tent.
‘We have how many horse?’ Cavarinos asked.
‘With our new recruits, almost forty thousand.’
‘So enough to take their cavalry in a fair fight, but probably not enough to beat the legions.’
‘They do not need to beat the legions,’ Critognatos grunted. ‘Weren’t you listening? This is just to slow them. To stop them reaching their fortress while our army catches up.’
‘It’s still a very dangerous game to play,’ Cavarinos sighed. ‘Caesar has a habit of pulling surprising tricks on us. Just because our horse outnumber theirs does not make the result a foregone conclusion.’
‘Most of their horse are actually drawn from our own people,’ Litavicus noted. ‘I do not know how Caesar has persuaded them to stay in his army while their tribes pledge to us, but they will not fight their countrymen, I am certain. Once our forces have them pinned, rest assured that all his cavalry drawn from our tribes will turn to our banner.’
‘Do not be too sure of that either,’ Cavarinos murmured. ‘There will be many among them who have tasted the advantages of Rome and will hunger for more.’
‘What advantages?’ sneered Critognatos.
‘Ask the Aedui here, whose houses are built with new Roman techniques. Ask the Carnutes, who have moved in only a few decades from relative obscurity to power and authority in the land, all through gains from Roman trade. Ask the Senones, whose leaders are here fighting with us, but half of whom remain among the Roman garrisons, servicing their legions and living well from the profits. Do not be blinded by your rage, brother. We have done well to pull together the tribes we have, but do not believe even for one moment that there are none among us who cannot see advantages to both sides in this war.’
The Great Revolt Page 37
