Caesar
"I'm sure you do," said Caesar, "but you won't get it in any war camp of mine, Antonius. I run a dry operation. And if my senior legates are content with water, my humble quaestor had best be the same. Besides, once you start you can't stop. The sure sign of an unhealthy addiction to a highly poisonous substance. Campaigning with me will do you good. You'll be so sober you might actually discover that heads which don't ache are capable of serious thinking." Caesar saw Antony's mouth open to protest, and got in first. "And don't start prating about Gabinius! He couldn't control you. I can."
Antony shut his mouth, blinked his auburn eyes, looked like Aetna about to erupt, then burst out laughing. "Oh, you haven't changed since the day you kicked me so hard in the podex that I couldn't sit down for a week!" he said when he was able. "This man," he announced to the others, "is the scourge of our whole family. He's a terror. But when he speaks, even my monumentally silly mother stops howling and screeching."
"If you can talk so much, Antonius, I'd prefer to hear some sense," said Caesar, face straight. "What's going on in the south?"
"Well, I've been to Narbo to see Uncle Lucius—and no, I didn't take it upon myself to go, I found a summons in Arelate—who has sent you a letter about four books long." He reached into a saddlebag on the ground beside him and produced a fat scroll which he handed to Caesar. "I can summarize it for you if you like, Caesar."
"I'd be interested to hear your summary, Antonius. Proceed."
"The moment spring came, it started. Lucterius sent the Gabali and some of the southern Arverni to the eastern side of the Cebenna to make war on the Helvii. That was the worst of it," said Antony grimly. "The Helvii were overwhelmed in the open. They'd decided they had the numbers to defeat the Gabali in the field, but what they hadn't counted on was the Arvernian contingent. They went down badly. Donnotaurus was killed. But Caburus and his younger sons survived and things have gone much better since. The Helvii are now safe inside their towns and holding."
"A terrible grief for Caburus, to lose a son," said Caesar. "Have you any idea what the Allobroges are thinking?"
"Not of joining Vercingetorix, anyway! I came through their lands and found a lot of activity. Fortifications everywhere, no settlement unguarded. They're ready for any attack."
"And the Volcae Arecomici?"
"The Ruteni, the Cardurci and some of the Petrocorii have attacked all along the border of the Province between the Vardo and the Tarnis, but Uncle Lucius had armed and organized them very efficiently, so they've held out surprisingly well. Some of their more remote settlements have suffered, of course."
"And Aquitania?"
"Very little trouble so far. The Nitiobriges have declared for Vercingetorix—Teutomarus, their king, managed to hire some mercenary horse troopers among the Aquitani. But he deems himself too highborn to serve under a mere mortal like Lucterius, so he took himself off to join Vercingetorix. Aside from that, peace and quiet reign south of the Garumna." Antony paused. "All of this is from Uncle Lucius."
"Your uncle Lucius will enjoy the end of the haughty King Teutomarus's odyssey. He had to flee from Gergovia without his shirt and on a wounded horse. Otherwise he'd be walking in my triumphal parade one day," said Caesar. He inclined his head to Mark Antony, the gesture colored by a peculiar tinge of something his three legates had never seen in him before; suddenly he seemed the highest of kings, and Antony a mere worm at his feet. How extraordinary! "My thanks, Antonius."
He turned to look at Fabius, Sextius, Quintus Cicero. The usual Caesar, not a scrap different from a thousand other occasions. Imagination, thought Fabius and Sextius. He's the king of that whole family, thought Quintus Cicero. No wonder he and my brother Cicero don't get on. They're both king of the family.
"All right, the situation in the Province is stable yet perilous. No doubt Vercingetorix is quite as aware what's happening as I am at this moment. Yes, he'll expect me to retreat into the Province. So I suppose I must oblige him."
"Caesar!" gasped Fabius, eyes round. "You won't!"
"Of course I do have to go to Agedincum first. After all, I can't leave Trebonius and the baggage behind, let alone the loyal and unflagging Fifteenth. Nor can I leave without the good Titus Labienus and the four legions he has with him."
"How's he doing?" asked Antony.
"As always, very well. When he couldn't take Lutetia he moved upstream to the other big island in the Sequana, Metiosedum. It fell at once—they hadn't burned their boats. After which he returned to Lutetia. The moment he appeared the Parisii put the torch to their island fortress and scampered off to the north." Caesar frowned, shifted on his ivory curule chair. "It seems the word is being shouted from one end of Gaul to the other that I was defeated at Gergovia and that the Aedui are in revolt."
"Eh?" asked Antony, and was quelled with a glance.
"According to the letter I received late this afternoon from Labienus, he decided this wasn't the moment to become inextricably embroiled in a long campaign north of the Sequana. Amazing, how well he knows my mind! He knew I'd want my whole army." A tinge of bitterness crept into Caesar's voice. "Before he left he felt it politic to teach the Parisii—who were led by one of the Aulerci, the old man Camulogenus—and their new allies that it doesn't pay to annoy Titus Labienus. The new allies were Commius's Atrebates and a few Bellovaci. Labienus tricked them. One always can. Most of them are dead, including Camulogenus and the Atrebates. Right at this moment Labienus is marching for Agedincum." Caesar rose to his feet. "I'm for bed. It's an early start in the morning—but not toward the Province. Toward Agedincum."
"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 into 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 squ
ares 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.