“Did Caesar really suffer a defeat at Gergovia?” Antony asked Fabius as they left the General’s tent.
“Him? Defeated? No, of course not. It was a draw.”
“Which would have been a victory,” said Quintus Cicero, “if the wretched Aedui hadn’t forced him to move back north of the Liger. The Gauls are a difficult enemy, Antonius.”
“He didn’t sound too pleased with Labienus, for all his lavish praise.”
The three senior legates exchanged rueful glances. “Well, Labienus is a problem for Caesar. Not an honorable man. But brilliant in the field. Caesar hates to have to need him, we think,” said Quintus Cicero.
“For more information, ask Aulus Hirtius,” said Sextius.
“Where do I sleep tonight?”
“In my tent,” said Fabius. “Have you much baggage? All you Syrian potentates do, of course. Dancing girls, mummers, chariots drawn by lions.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Antony, grinning, “I’ve always hankered to drive a chariot drawn by lions. But somehow I don’t think Cousin Gaius would approve. So I left all the dancing girls and mummers behind in Rome.”
“And the lions?”
“Still licking their chops in Africa.”
*
“I see no reason why the Aedui should acknowledge an Arvernian as high king and commander-in-chief!” Litaviccus declared to the thanes assembled in Bibracte.
“If the Aedui wish to belong to the new and independent nation of Gaul, they must bow to the will of the majority,” said Cathbad from the dais he shared with Vercingetorix.
That had started the Aeduan discontent. When the Aeduan nobles came into their own council hall, they discovered that two men only were to preside in state—and that neither man was an Aeduan. To have to argue from the floor of the chamber looking up at an Arvernian was intolerable! Too huge an insult to suffer!
“And on whose say-so does the majority want Vercingetorix?” Litaviccus demanded. “Has there been an election? If there has, the Aedui weren’t invited! All we know is that Cathbad insisted a small group of thanes—none of whom were Aedui!—should bend the left knee to Vercingetorix as their king! We haven’t! And nor will we!”
“Litaviccus, Litaviccus!” cried Cathbad, rising to his feet. “If we are to win—if we are to strike out as one united nation—someone has to be king of it until the wars to secure our autonomy are over! Then we’ll have the leisure to sit down in a full council of all the peoples and determine the permanent structure our government should own. The Tuatha elected Vercingetorix to hold our peoples together in the meantime.”
“Oh, I see! So it happened at Carnutum, did it?” sneered Cotus, getting up. “A Druid plot to elevate one of our traditional enemies to the high throne!”
“There was no plot, there is no plot,” said Cathbad patiently. “What every Aeduan present here today must remember is that it was not an Aeduan who offered himself to the peoples of Gaul. It was not an Aeduan who inspired this convulsion of resistance which is making Caesar’s life such a misery. It was not an Aeduan who went among the peoples of Gaul to drum up support. It was an Arvernian. It was Vercingetorix!”
“Without the Aedui, your united Gaul doesn’t stand a chance,” Convictolavus said, ranging himself alongside Litaviccus and Corus. “Without the Aedui, there would have been no victory at Gergovia.”
“And without the Aedui,” said Litaviccus, drawing himself up proudly, “your so-called united Gaul is as hollow as a wicker man! Without the Aedui, you can’t succeed! All we have to do to bring you down is apologize to Caesar and go back to work for the Romans. Give them food, give them cavalry, give them infantry, give them information. Especially give them information!”
Vercingetorix got up and walked to the edge of the dais on which until this day no men save Aedui had presided. Or (which the Aedui chose not to remember) Caesar.
“No one is denying the importance of the Aedui,” he said in ringing tones. “No one wants to diminish the Aedui, least of all I. But I am the King of Gaul! There can be no getting around that, nor any possibility that the rest of the peoples of Gaul would be willing to replace me with one of you. You have great ambitions, Litaviccus. You have proven immensely valuable to our cause. I am the last man here to deny that. But it is not your face the peoples of Gaul see beneath a crown. For I will wear a crown, not a white ribbon like those who rule in the East!”
Cathbad came to stand beside him. “The answer is simple,” he said. “Every people in free Gaul is represented here today except for the Remi, the Lingones and the Treveri. The Treveri send their apologies and their good wishes. They can’t leave their lands because the Germans are raiding constantly for horses. As for the Remi and the Lingones, they’re Rome’s creatures. Their doom will come. So we will take the vote. Not to choose a king! There is only one candidate, Vercingetorix. The vote will be a simple yes or no. Is Vercingetorix the King of Gaul, or is he not?”
The vote was overwhelming. Only the Aedui voted no.
And there on the dais after the vote was taken, Cathbad took an object from under a white veil adorned with mistletoe: a jeweled golden helmet with a jeweled golden wing on either side. Vercingetorix knelt, Cathbad crowned him. When the thanes went down on their left knees, the Aedui capitulated and knelt too.
“We can wait,” whispered Litaviccus to Cotus. “Let him be the sacrificial victim! If he can use us, we can use him.”
Of these undercurrents Vercingetorix was well aware, but chose to ignore them. Once Gaul was rid of Rome and Caesar, he could devote his energies to defending his right to wear a crown.
“Each people will send ten hostages of highest rank to be held in Gergovia,” said the King of Gaul, who had talked this over with Cathbad before the meeting. Evidence of mistrust, said Cathbad. Evidence of prudence, said Vercingetorix.
“It is not my intention to increase the size of my infantry army before the muster in Carnutum, for I am not about to pit our strength against Caesar’s army in pitched battle. But I am calling for fifteen thousand extra horse warriors—to be provided at once. Such is my command as your king. With these and the cavalry I already have, I will prevent the Romans from foraging at all.”
His voice swelled. “Further than that, I require a sacrifice. I command that every people anywhere in Caesar’s line of march must destroy their villages, their barns, their silos. Those of us who have been in this business from the beginning have already done that. But I now command it of the Aedui, the Mandubii, the Ambarri, the Sequani and the Segusiavi. My other peoples—”
“Do you hear that? ‘I command!’ ‘My other peoples!’ ” growled Litaviccus.
“—will feed and shelter those who must suffer in order to make the Romans suffer. It is the only way. Valor on the field is not enough. We do not fight cowards, we do not fight mythical Scandian berserkers, we not fight simpletons. Our enemy is great, brave, clever. So we must fight with every weapon in our arsenal. We must be greater, braver, cleverer. We scorch our hallowed earth, we dig our crops under, we burn anything which might aid Caesar’s army or let it eat. The price is well worth it, fellow Gauls. The price is liberty, true independence, our own nation! Free men in a free country!”
“Free men in a free country!” howled the thanes, pounding their feet on the hollow wooden floor until it roared; then the feet fell into a rhythm and pounded the martial roll of a thousand drums while Vercingetorix, crown blazing, stared down at them.
“Litaviccus, I command you to send ten thousand Aeduan infantry and eight hundred Aeduan horsemen to the lands of the Allobroges. Make war on them until they join us,” said the King.
“Do you require me to lead them in person?”
Vercingetorix smiled. “My dear Litaviccus, you’re far too valuable to waste on the Allobroges,” he said gently. “One of your brothers will do.”
The King of Gaul raised his voice. “I have learned,” he shouted, “that the Romans have commenced their march out of our lands and i
nto the Province! The tide which began to turn with our victory at Gergovia is flooding in!”
*
Caesar’s army was together again, though the Fifteenth Legion was no more; its men, seasoned now, were slipped into the other ten to plump them out, particularly among the more than decimated Eighth. With Labienus, Trebonius, Quintus Cicero, Fabius, Sextius, Hirtius, Decimus Brutus, Mark Antony and several other legates, it marched with everything it owned eastward from Agedincum into the lands of the ever-loyal Lingones.
“What a nice, fat bait we must look,” said Caesar to Trebonius with satisfaction. “Ten legions, six thousand horse, all the baggage.”
“Of which horse, two thousand are Germans,” said Trebonius, grinning and turning to look at Labienus. “What do you think of our new German cavalry, Titus?”
“Worth every sestertius paid to mount them,” said Labienus, grunting in content. The horse’s teeth bared. “Though I imagine, Caesar, that your name isn’t being uttered with love among our seriously offended military tribunes!”
Caesar laughed, raised his brows. Sixteen hundred Germans had been waiting at Agedincum, and Trebonius had striven mightily to exchange their nags for Remi steeds. Not that the Remi held back. They were charging such an inflated price for their horses that they were prepared to give up every beast they had save the breeding stock. Simply, the Remi didn’t have quite enough reserves. When Caesar arrived, he solved the shortfall by compelling all his military tribunes to give up their high-stepping Italian beauties in exchange for German nags, Public Horses or no. The shriek of anguish could be heard for miles, but Caesar was unmoved.
“You can do your jobs from the backs of nags just as well as you can on Pegasus,” he said. “Needs must, so tacete, ineptes!”
The Roman snake, fifteen miles long, scales glittering, wound its way eastward with two thousand German and four thousand Remi horsemen fussing about its sides.
*
“Why do they make their column so long?” asked King Teutomarus of King Vercingetorix as they sat their horses atop a hill and watched that seemingly endless procession. “Why not march on a much wider front? They could still keep to their precious columns, simply have four or five or six columns parallel to each other.”
“Because,” said King Vercingetorix patiently, “no army is big enough to attack along a thin column’s full length. Even if I had the three or four hundred thousand men I hope to have after the muster at Carnutum, I’d be stretched thin. Though with that many men, I’d certainly try. The Roman snake is very clever. No matter whereabouts the column is attacked, the rest of it can act like wings, turn and enfold the attackers. And they are so rigorously drilled that they can form themselves into one or several squares in the time it would take us to marshal a charge. One reason I want thousands of archers. I’ve heard that a scant year ago the Parthians attacked a Roman column on the march, and routed it. Thanks to their archers and an all-horse army.”
“Then you’re going to let them go?” asked King Teutomarus.
“Not unscathed, no. I have thirty thousand horse against their six thousand. Nice odds. No infantry battle, Teutomarus. But we will have a cavalry battle. Oh, for the day when I can employ horse archers!”
Vercingetorix attacked with his cavalry in three separate groups as Caesar’s army marched not far from the north bank of the Icauna River. The Gallic strategy depended upon Caesar’s reluctance to allow his relatively slender horse contingent a free rein away from the infantry column; Vercingetorix was convinced Caesar would order them to hug the column, content himself with fending the Gallic assault off.
So confident were the Gauls that they had publicly sworn an oath before their king: no man who had not ridden twice through the Roman infantry column would ever know again the pleasures of his home, his wife, his children.
One of the three Gallic groups massed nine thousand strong on either Roman flank, while the third began to harry the head of the column. But the trouble was that ground for such a huge horse attack had to be fairly flat and negotiable: easy ground for the Roman foot to wheel upon, form square, draw all the baggage and artillery inside. Nor did Caesar do as Vercingetorix had expected. Instead of ordering his horse to stay close and protect the infantry, he used the infantry to protect itself and split his cavalry into three groups of two thousand. Then he sent it out under Labienus to contend with the Gauls on open ground.
The Germans on the right flank won the day; they gained the top of a ridge, dislodged the Gauls, who were terrified of German cavalry, and rode into them screaming. The Gauls broke to the south and were driven headlong to the river, where Vercingetorix himself drew up his infantry and tried to contain the panic. But nothing could stop Germans in full cry, especially superbly mounted. The Ubii warriors, hair coiled into a complicated knot on top of their bare heads, rode everyone down, in the grip of a killing frenzy. Less adventurous, the Remi felt their pride pricked, and did their best to emulate the Germans.
It was Vercingetorix who retreated, with the Germans and the Remi harassing his rear all day.
Luckily the night was a dark one; Caesar’s cavalry retired, enabling the King of Gaul to put his men into a makeshift camp.
“So many Germans!” said Gutruatus, shivering.
“Mounted on Remi horses,” said Vercingetorix bitterly. “Oh, we owe the Remi a reckoning!”
“And there’s our main trouble,” said Sedulius. “We prate of being united, but some of our peoples refuse to, and some don’t have their hearts in it.” He glared at Litaviccus. “Like the Aedui!”
“The Aedui proved their mettle today,” said Litaviccus, his teeth clenched. “Cotus, Cavarillus and Eporedorix haven’t come back. They’re dead.”
“No, I saw Cavarillus captured,” said Drappes, “and I saw the other two in the retreat. Not everyone is here. Some took off at a tangent, I think to loop round Caesar and head west.”
“What happens now?” asked Teutomarus.
“I think,” said Vercingetorix slowly, “that now we wait for the general muster. Only a few days away. I had hoped to go to Carnutum in person, but this setback—I must stay with the army. Gutruatus, I entrust you with the muster at Carnutum. Take Sedulius and his Lemovices, Drappes and his Senones, Teutomarus and his Nitiobriges, and Litaviccus and his Aedui with you. I’ll keep the rest of the cavalry and our eighty thousand foot with me—Mandubii, Bituriges and all my Arverni. How far is it to Alesia, Daderax?”
The chief thane of the Mandubii answered without hesitation. “About fifty miles eastward, Vercingetorix.”
“Then we’ll go to earth in Alesia for a few days. Only a few days. I don’t intend another Avaricum.”
“Alesia is no Avaricum,” said Daderax. “It’s too big, too high and too hedged in to be stormed or invested. Even if the Romans try to set up some sort of blockade similar to the one at Avaricum, they can’t pen us in any more than they can attack us. When we want to leave, we’ll be able to leave.”
“Critognatus, how much food have we with us?” Vercingetorix asked his Arvernian cousin.
“Enough for ten days if Gutruatus and those going west let us have almost everything.”
“How much food is there in Alesia, Daderax, given that there will be eighty thousand of us as well as ten thousand cavalry?”
“Enough for ten days. But we’ll be able to bring more food in. The Romans can’t block the whole perimeter.” He chuckled. “Hardly a scrap of level ground!”
“Then tomorrow we’ll split our forces as I’ve indicated. To Carnutum with Gutruatus, most of the cavalry and a few foot. To Alesia with me, most of the foot and ten thousand horse.”
*
The lands which belonged to the Mandubii lay at an altitude of about eight hundred feet above sea level, with rugged hills rising another six hundred and fifty feet above that. Alesia, their principal stronghold, lay atop a flattish, diamond-shaped mount surrounded by hills of much the same height. On the two long sides, which looked north and sout
h, these adjacent hills crowded in on it, while to the east the end of a ridge almost connected with it. In the bottom of the steep terrain on the two long sides flowed two rivers. To complete its natural excellence, Alesia was most precipitous on the west, where, in front of it, lay the only open and level ground in the area, a little three-mile-long valley where the two rivers flowed almost side by side.
Formidably walled in murus Gallicus style, the citadel occupied the steeper western end of the mount; the eastern end sloped gradually downward and was unwalled. Several thousand Mandubii dependents were sheltering in the town—women, children and old ones whose warrior men were off to war.
“Yes, I remember it correctly,” said Caesar curtly when the army arrived on the little two-rivers plain at the western end of the mount. “Trebonius, what do the scouts report?”
“That Vercingetorix has definitely gone to earth inside, Caesar. Together with about eighty thousand foot and ten thousand horse. All the cavalry seem to be bivouacked outside the walls on the eastern end of the table. It’s safe enough to ride east if you’d like to see for yourself.”
“Are you implying that I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t safe?”
Trebonius blinked. “After all these years? I should hope not! Blame my tongue; it made hard work of what should have been a simple sentence.”
Riding a very ordinary German nag, Caesar swung its mean head around ungently and kicked it several times in the ribs to get it moving.
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