The men of the Sixth and Fourteenth now sheltered in the half-ruined houses of Cenabum, the shells of the town’s residences providing some protection and ease from the winter winds, though each eight man contubernium had erected their own tent inside the houses, since few boasted a surviving roof.
And Varus, accompanied by the humourless Hirtius, had been tasked with visiting the towns named by the informants and tracking down these rebels. As far as Varus was concerned it was a pointless task. The Carnutes would melt into the landscape, sell their slaves and separate, taking their gains with them. None of these warbands were going to be stupid enough to hole up together in an oppidum and face off against Caesar’s army. None of them were near strong enough.
If these raiders were simple opportunists, they had no need and no desire to confront Rome. And if, despite having brushed the idea aside, they were part of a campaign of distraction, they would do everything they could to evade capture and keep the Romans busy. Either way, Tascio would be unlikely to deliver up Caesar’s enemies.
Experience over the past few days, however, had taught Varus how futile it was to try and argue the logic of matters with his solemn companion. Hirtius was an orator, and a good one. A friend and confidante of Caesar’s and a man famed for his addresses in the city. No matter how much logic and sense Varus had on his side, Hirtius would talk him in a spiral until he was arguing into his own face. Besides, even if Hirtius agreed, which he had done on occasion, he was bound by his duty to Caesar to an extent Varus had rarely seen in an officer. He seriously wondered if Hirtius might physically explode if he tried to disobey an order.
‘There’s no one in Tascio, Hirtius.’
‘Oh?’ The accompanying officer looked across at him with an arched eyebrow. ‘How so?’
‘It’s winter. It’s as cold as Trivia’s tit. The ground’s damp and freezing and the air is grey and filled with icy mist. And how many fires can you see burning in Tascio?’
‘None, clearly.’
The air above the oppidum was empty and clear, if depressing and colourless.
‘Precisely. No columns of smoke. Therefore no fires. No fires in this kind of weather means no people.’
‘Or people with something to hide from an approaching column of Romans.’
Varus snorted. ‘Do you really believe anything you say, Hirtius, or is it all disruptive discombobulation?’
‘Unless you are about to try and wrest command of the army from the Proconsul of Gaul, Varus, your duty is to follow the general’s instructions. And the general’s instructions are to search the oppidum of Tascio and harry the enemy if we find them there.’
Varus sighed and turned back to the settlement ahead. Even given the speed of mounted informants among the Carnutes and of the cavalry wing, the trail of the warband had to be even colder than the chilling ground by now. If the rebels had ever been at Tascio, even their footprints would be gone by now.
The oppidum was not one of the great walled defensive sites the army had become so used to in these lands, but a second type with which they were rapidly becoming familiar: a civil settlement with low walls, by a river and surrounded by agriculture and industry. A commercial and residential centre more than an ancient fortress. It seemed that in recent decades, before Rome’s interference, a subtle shift had begun in the Gallic nature, away from a state of near-perpetual warfare towards a cooperative commercial drive.
What might have happened to this land if the legions had not slammed down their nailed boots upon it?
Varus slowed his horse slightly, allowing Hirtius to ride ahead a little, then turned and gestured to the leader of his speculatores – his scout riders. Cacumattos was of the Aedui, but from nearby Decetio and therefore not too far removed from this area. The Gallic scout, dressed and armed so similarly to his Roman counterparts that he could have blended in but for the long, braided hair and the trousers beneath his tunic, geed up his horse and trotted forward.
‘Cacumattos, what do we know of Tascio?’
The scout frowned and rubbed his chin.
‘Merchant town, commander. It is Carnute town, but across river is Bituriges, and that hill,’ he gestured to a slight rise perhaps a quarter of a mile away, ‘is Turone lands. Tascio marketplace for all three tribes. Big trade for pottery and salt. Also iron from upriver.’
Varus nodded. ‘Big fishing industry too, I’d wager. I see extra channels cut from the river here leading to catchment areas. Tascio might be small, but I’d wager it’s a place of some importance to the Carnutes, as well as the other tribes.’
The scout nodded and Varus, suspicions creeping into his thoughts once more, tapped his lip. ‘They’re more distant from your home, but what do you know of Durocason and Salio in the north-east and, more locally, Gabrio, just upriver?’
Cacumattos sniffed and rubbed his eyes as he plumbed the depths of his memory. ‘Gabrio another crossroads market. Big for cheese and food. Trade with Bituriges and Aedui.’
Varus nodded, a sour realisation forming deep inside as the man went on.
‘No sure of Durocason. Small tribe within Carnutes. Think Durocason controls trade on Autura river. Salio centre for druids. Very powerful.’
‘Thank you, Cacumattos.’
As the scout bowed from the waist and then trotted his horse back into position among the other scouts, Varus locked his eyes on Hirtius up ahead. He would not be able to prove Caesar’s intent, of course, but Varus was now fairly sure as to why he and his horse had been sent to trace the movements of these elusive warbands. Four settlements targeted. Three major trading posts, all secondary to the great port of Cenabum, but each a place of thriving commerce with a speciality, and all likely rich pickings. The last a centre for the druids. These days, with the Romans so regularly camped nearby there would be little physical power there, but the druids were as much the leaders of Gaul as were the nobles, so there would almost certainly be a great deal of wealth there at one time. He had no doubt whatsoever that Caesar had engineered these specific targets. But had he taken the intelligence of the passage of rebel warbands and selected the wealthiest towns en route, or had the warbands also been fictional and this entire endeavour simply yet another excuse to rape the civil settlements of a beaten tribe for the furtherment of Rome. And of Caesar?
With a sense of irritation, the cavalry commander caught up with Hirtius, turned and started issuing orders to his prefects and native leaders.
‘When we reach the settlement, I want each ala moving into a different area of the place. Check the whole oppidum. Once you have scoured the streets on horseback, dismount and check out the buildings, but make sure to leave a defensive force as you do it. Anyone you come across, bring back to the gate and we will question them, though I doubt you’ll find a single Gaul here.’
Hirtius turned to join him. ‘And while searching the town, take note of all livestock, any potential pack animals and any carts, wagons or other vehicles. Once we confirm the place is deserted, I want those items rounded up and brought to the central square.’
‘So brazen?’ Varus asked tartly.
‘I beg your pardon, commander?’
‘You’re already organising the systematic looting of the place before we’ve even confirmed it’s empty?’
‘No, Varus. I specifically stated “once we confirm the place is deserted.” Please try to listen.’
Varus ground his teeth as the other senior officer went on to detail what was to be impounded upon confirmation of desertion. Of course, the major trade goods of the area were listed: pottery, salt and iron. Any coinage, armour, jewellery and so on was to be gathered and pooled. While the main trade goods would be loaded for return to the proconsul’s headquarters, the small booty would be divided up among the men.’
Varus could almost feel the avarice flowing out from the riders – his riders! Not only was the process of looting already defined before they reached the place, but the motivation of the looting parties had just increased tenfold.
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‘This is beneath us, Hirtius.’
‘Commander?’
‘These people were beaten. I don’t care if there are a few small rebel groups causing trouble – that is no excuse for raping the lands of the tribe for the proconsul’s gain. The Carnutes are barely going to make it through the year as it is. If we relieve them of what little they still have, we likely relieve them of the chance of survival.’
‘If you are feeling guilty at exercising the just and gods-sent rights of the victor over the vanquished, Varus, then perhaps you should take the Carnutes on as your clients. Your family has no small place in Roman society, and a sizeable vault of money, I should say.’
‘You are contemptible, Hirtius.’
‘And you are living in a world of dreams, commander.’
Varus watched the crane-like figure of the other officer ride ahead with his personal guard. It occurred to him that possibly Caesar had lost those men from his command who had tried to guide or curb the general when required. Gone were Cicero – back to Rome and politics, Fronto and Balbus – both off to retirement in Massilia, Sabinus – killed by Ambiorix, Crassus – dead on the Parthian sands. Indeed, the only man remaining in the army who still had the influence to change Caesar’s mind was Titus Labienus, and the hugely successful lieutenant had spent most of the recent seasons on detached duty in the east of Gaul, away from the main army.
These days it seemed that Caesar’s officer corps was filled with young hopefuls from Rome seeking glory, sycophants who saw the victorious general purely as a source of wealth, and old worn-out nobles who cared little for anything other than getting through this last year and securing a lucrative position when Caesar was made consul.
Brutus might be the only man left who could argue Caesar away from a course of mass pillage at the expense of Gaul’s future. But Brutus was tied to Caesar by blood, and consequently had made no move to do so.
Would Gaul even be worth turning into a province by the time Caesar had returned to Rome?
Varus set his sights on the approaching oppidum, grinding his teeth. There would be at least a week yet of Hirtius’ company as they systematically stripped the four richest Carnute settlements before returning to the army where, the commander was sure, Caesar would pronounce the rebels beaten and fled, and the campaign another victory, and would then return to winter quarters richer than ever.
Gods help any other tribe who might come to his attention…
* * * * *
‘Is it true?’
Brutus looked up from his mouthful of warm bread and butter. ‘Hmm?’
‘Is it true?’ Varus repeated. ‘Are the Bellovaci really rising against us?’
‘That’s the information we have. You heard the details at the briefing. And the news came from the Remi, who are – as you rightly know – the only tribe in the entire land who have been staunchly allied to Rome since the day we met.’
Varus stared sourly down into his cup of well-watered wine. The cavalry had been back from their glorious victory over the Carnutes for three days now and still the spoils were being logged and secured for transport to Massilia and beyond. Varus had been so irked at being used as a sanctioned thief that he had rarely crawled out from the amphora since returning to camp. He thought briefly of Fronto in his early days here and began to understand how his friend’s prodigious drinking had started. Perhaps long-term exposure to Caesar did that to a moral man?
Once again, at the command meeting this morning, word of another minor rebellion had been received. The Bellovaci, up among the Belgae, were reported to be raising an army for an invasion of their neighbours, the Suessiones. And with the Suessiones having declared themselves subjects of Rome and loyal to Caesar, of course, the army would march on the Bellovaci to put things right. No doubt, in the process, a few of the richest Bellovaci towns would render unto Caesar that which he most desired.
Consequently, Caesar had decided to exercise another group of legions. The Belgae being generally stronger and more tenacious than these central and western tribes, Caesar would take four legions to maintain the Pax Romana. The Seventh were being sent for, where they currently wintered under Trebonius’ command, along with Rufio’s Eleventh and the Eighth and Ninth, who were currently under the combined command of Fabius. Trebonius would maintain Cenabum with the Tenth and Twelfth, who were marching here with all speed, while the men who had marched into Carnute lands two weeks ago would return to their winter quarters, wealthy and rested.
Yet the timing was all too convenient. At the projected date for the army to depart – two days from now – the two new garrison legions for Cenabum must already have been on the way, which suggested strongly that Caesar knew beforehand that he was going to be leaving and taking the army with him.
‘It just seems too coincidental that the Bituriges have a little rebellion, and a matter of days after the legions return to quarters, the Carnutes have their rebellion. We don’t even get to chastise them, since they just evaporate into the wilds. Then the legions have a little rest before the Bellovaci rise up and we have to march again. And each time we return with wagon loads of spoils. Doesn’t it strike you as a little convenient?’
Brutus shrugged. ‘There is the possibility that someone is actively stirring up trouble? It seems the most likely to me.’
‘I’ll admit that the notion had occurred to me too, Brutus. But isn’t the general fortunate that those tribes who are rising up and who we have to go quash are ones who have made it through these years of war with a few solid resources remaining, and we’re now capturing those resources. The Carnutes are an important tribe and both they and the Bituriges, despite having been at the heart of the warfare, are so involved in inter-tribal river trade that their economy has survived. And the Bellovaci have been largely untouched for six years now, so I’ll wager they’re a ripe fruit hanging tantalisingly low now too. But poor tribes like the Menapii and the Cadurci, the Arverni and the Mediomatrici, who have given up everything they could to Rome and lost anything else to war itself, are peaceful and require no Roman presence. There’s logic there, yes, but it’s still suspicious.’
‘Sounds like you’re trying to accuse Caesar of engineering wars for profit.’
‘Juno, Brutus, keep your damned voice down. That sort of comment gets men in the deepest of shit.’
‘True, though. Is that what you believe, Varus?’
‘It’s not far-fetched, let’s put it that way.’
Brutus mused over the matter as he took another bite of his buttered bread. ‘It may be as you say. It may not. Either way it makes no difference. If that is what he’s doing, it is his prerogative. He has the authority and entitlement to do as he sees fit, and everything he’s done has been for the good of the army, and of Rome.’
‘And of himself.’
‘That’s an unworthy comment, Varus. The fact remains that the only people who have suffered are the Gauls, and if they stay loyal they will prosper.’
‘Tell that to the Bituriges.’
‘If this bothers you, Varus, try to turn a blind eye to it for a few more months. Soon the general will be heading back to Rome, the army will disband, and this new province will become the command of some fat, selfish senatorial governor. If Caesar left Gaul a rich and prosperous land, his successor would only rake off all the profit into his coffers anyway.’
‘I still don’t like it.’
Brutus washed down his bread and coughed in the cold air. ‘Then here’s a little rumour to help put your fears at ease, Varus. Nothing has been confirmed yet, but I spoke to one of the scouts this morning who had, in turn, been speaking to the Remi riders that brought us the news. The man told me that the name behind the rising that is being spoken up in the Belgae lands is “Commius”.’
‘Commius?’ Varus cast his mind back. The king of the Atrebates had been an ally of Rome since the early days, immediately after that near disaster at the Sabis River, but had turned from Rome and thrown his lot in with Verc
ingetorix last year, only to leave Alesia unharmed and return to the north. How odd it was that Caesar had never expressed the need to locate and punish the man. Uncharacteristic, in fact. Still, the linking of Commius with the new troubles gave it more legitimacy than the two previous risings.
‘Yes,’ Brutus replied, sipping from his cup. ‘They say that Commius has been stirring up the Bellovaci. And clearly we cannot leave that treacherous scum to his own devices. Two days and we ride north-east. I understand that Caesar is intending to march from depot to depot and station to station and supply as we go. That way we could make Bellovaci lands in four days, maybe even three, not tied to the speed of the wagons.’
‘Alright. I’ll grant that this sounds a little more serious, but watch what happens when we get there. I’ll give you my villa at Antium if we deal with the Bellovaci and don’t come out of it with a train of loot-wagons.’
Brutus chuckled. ‘I’ll remember that. Antium’s lovely in the autumn.’
* * * * *
Five days later Varus found himself deep in Bellovaci lands with three alae of cavalry a day ahead of the army, sweeping through deserted oppida and small settlements, trying to ascertain anything concrete concerning Commius and this army of his. Further information from the Remi had added another name to the list of conspirators – one Correus, a Bellovaci noble – and also the names of several smaller surrounding tribes who had thrown in their lot with the rebels.
So the cavalry had been sent ahead to discover what they could of the enemy, and Varus had consequently split his force into large scout parties that passed through the region seeking news.
Marius' Mules VIII: Sons of Taranis Page 11
