Sons of Taranis (12 page)

‘Several hundred Carnute warriors, general. And many dozens of captives with them, as well as three carts of booty.’

Caesar smiled. ‘At least they know enough not to lie on such a blatant fact. Ask them how they crossed and where they went? I cannot imagine they brought wagons of supplies across on this ferry.’

A brief exchange followed, with lots of nodding from Sidonius, who translated the reply.

‘According to the ferrymen, a few leaders and warriors crossed the river, but were refused entry to Blesio. They made off north afterwards. The rest of the force with the loot and slaves set off downstream two days ago, making for the ford at Ambasso, where they will cross and head north to join with the leaders.’

Caesar nodded. ‘I know of Ambasso. A vexillation of ours camped beside the oppidum there following the siege of Avaricon last year. The ford is supposed to be easy in the summer season, but often submerged in the winter. Still, it has been a mild, if cold, winter, and obviously the locals consider it passable. Once we have spoken to the nobles in Blesio, we will return to camp and the legions can work their way west to cross at Ambasso.’

‘We will pursue them, then, Caesar?’ Varus presumed.

‘If there is any hope of us catching them, yes. They could be fast-moving, compared with our baggage train speed. But they are heading north, and north is Cenabum, which has always been the heart of both Carnute pride and their druids’ religion. If the enemy will ever stand to face us, they will do so at Cenabum.’

Varus nodded, though somewhere deep down he remembered hearing that Autricon was their true seat of political power. It had not escaped Varus’ notice, though, that Cenabum, while not their true heart, was their great trade centre, and the richest settlement in Carnute lands.

* * * * *

Varus eyed Hirtius suspiciously. The addition of Caesar’s secretary on any detached duty was cause for unease as far as the cavalry commander was concerned. The last time it had happened, Hirtius had been instrumental in seizing the mines of the Bituriges on the flimsiest of pretences. And now the bird-like figure was once more riding alongside the cavalry as the force neared the Carnute oppidum of Tascio.

‘If the rebels did flee here, it looks to me like they went on running,’ the cavalry commander murmured.

‘Our intelligence says that this is the location of one of four sightings of the Carnute warbands,’ Hirtius replied primly. ‘Are you suggesting we ignore the matter?’

Varus glared at the man, who he was beginning to see as little more than an extension of Caesar’s grip. In his personal opinion, the Carnute raids had been just that: raids. They were not a campaign of invasion as the Biturige envoys had put it to the general in their panic and desperation. The Carnutes, like most other of the more belligerent tribes, had lost so many fighting men in these last few years that they could hardly hope to mount an invasion. The warlords had simply seen an opportunity and begun to raid their weaker neighbours. It was going to be hard to survive the coming year, and easing the tribe’s suffering by taking from weaker groups would make a noticeable difference.

Something in his subconscious suggested that there might be more to it than that, of course. It was tempting to see conspiracies and strategy in everything these days, after what had happened over the past two years. Could it be that some new Vercingetorix was setting fires in the hearts of the more aggressive tribes to keep the Romans off-balance? It had happened a year or so before Alesia, after all. And in more than a month, the general and his armies had spent their time rushing around solving small problems rather than resting and preparing for the season ahead. Coincidence?

He shook his head. Logic suggested the former.

Having failed to catch up with the enemy at Ambasso, Caesar had taken the entire force to Cenabum, where he had found traces in both memory and physicality of the recent passage of warbands with slave chains. Helpful ‘loyal’ Carnutes – could there be such a thing? – had given Caesar details of four such groups that had passed through Cenabum heading northeast and southwest, doubling back past the pursuing army. While the general had settled the two legions in the oppidum that had so recently been the site of a massacre and a brutal punitive siege, he had sent out the cavalry.

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.

‘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.