‘Have you confirmed his identity?’ he asked the duty centurion as he approached the knot of men.
‘Aye sir,’ the centurion — a surprisingly young man for such a role — nodded, passing over a wax tablet with a list of names and details. ‘Litomaros. Birth mark shaped like a fat amphora on the left shoulder and ‘L’ shaped scar on lower left of belly. Unless they’ve been very creative, it’s him.’
Labienus nodded, satisfied. He’d sent a dozen men out among the Treveri and their sub-tribes in the area to gain intelligence and provide forewarning of any trouble, and on Baculus’ recommendation had had each one’s distinguishing features noted to provide proof of identity should they return. Labienus had shaken his head at the time and replied that such a means of security stopped a man masquerading as one of the spies, but did not mean they could not be turned. Baculus had grunted and said that half a measure of safety was still better than nothing. Despite his misgivings, Labienus had to admit that he felt that little bit more sure when the centurion had confirmed it.
‘Litomaros?’ he said, gesturing for the other soldiers to step aside and moving forward to face the spy.
‘Legate.’ The man bowed his head respectfully.
‘What news from the Treveri?’
‘Trouble, sir,’ the Gaul replied, his face dark.
‘Indutiomarus stirring up his tribe for another try on us?’
The native warrior cleared his throat, rubbing his cold hands together. Labienus noticed his frosting breath and realised the man must have ridden twenty miles or more in the freezing morning air. With a gesture to wait, he turned to the legionaries beside him. ‘Someone get this man some heated wine. Can you not see he’s chilled to the bone?’
As one of the men ran off, Labienus filed away the looks on the other men’s faces for later attention. Not one of them cared that a native might freeze to death.
‘Right. Now tell me the news.’
‘Treveri are unhappy at Roman warband camp in their lands.’
‘This is nothing new. Are they unhappy enough to make war on us?’
‘Treveri know they are too small to beat Roman warband. Indutiomarus try to talk other tribes to attack Rome, but they not fight.’
‘Good. There is still some sense in this land, then.’
‘So Indutiomarus send men across river to German tribes.’
The legionaries shared a worried look and Labienus tried to keep his composure without reacting obviously to such unsettling news. If the tribes across the Rhenus decided to join the Treveri in force, then the Twelfth Legion would likely be a mere stain on the memory of the campaign in a few weeks, just like Sabinus and Cotta’s command a few months back.
‘How many?’
The Gaul shook his head. ‘Suevi and Ubii and Chatti refuse to help.’
Labienus felt his spirits lift at such news. It seemed unlike those tribes not to take the opportunity for a little havoc and plunder among the lands of their Gallic cousins and against the might of Rome, but Labienus could be grateful for their recalcitrance without seeking the reasons.
‘So the Treveri do not come? Why then did you feel the need to leave them and seek me out?’
The Gaul took a steadying breath. ‘Indutiomarus not needing Germans now. Chief gather to his boar standard all thieves, murderers, bandits, killers and rebels in Gaul and Belgae lands. His army grow with men who hate Rome.’
‘How large can an army be if it’s formed of countryside brigands?’
The Gaul frowned as if the question made no sense.
‘Is it really a force that presents a threat to us?’ Labienus rephrased.
‘Yes,’ the Gaul replied. ‘You surprise how many Gauls hate Rome and run to Indutiomarus because their druid say not fight.’
Labienus sighed. He would not be at all surprised, if he were to admit it. It was a surprise, however, to hear that the druids were counselling non-confrontation. While Labienus was of firm belief that the Gallic tribes and their leaders could be persuaded to a diplomatic solution, the druids had always seemed immovable objects in the path of peace. What was their game?
He pursed his lips. ‘There are enough to do to us what the Eburones did to Cotta and Sabinus?’
Again the Gaul nodded.
‘Then we are faced with three choices. We abandon camp, give the Treveri the run of the countryside, and join up with Caesar’s army back west. Upside: no one dies unnecessarily. Downside: the Treveri are given a victory and the freedom to cause further trouble. Or, we sit and hold tight and work on our defences in the belief we can hold against a siege until Caesar arrives and breaks them, like he did with Cicero. Upside: we have time to strengthen our position. Downside: we are trapped and if Caesar does not come, the Twelfth become a memory. Or… we strengthen ourselves while weakening them.’
The duty centurion frowned as he leaned closer. ‘Sir?’
‘The man said the druids are counselling peace. The Treveri still have druids among them, and still listen to them. There will be warriors of honour within the tribe who are in two minds about any attack. If they recognise that the druids are against it and that half their army is made up of criminals or men from tribes they don’t even know, a lot of their warriors might find cause to desert any attack.’
He wagged his finger at the Gaul. ‘It is asking a great deal, but do you think you can get back among the Treveri without suspicion?’
‘I think,’ the Gaul nodded.
‘Good. Go back to them. Take up your former role but now, instead of gathering information for me, I would like you to sound out their druids and, if they are truly opposed to an attack, help spread their dissent among the warriors of the Treveri. Try not to get yourself caught though, and steer clear of these thugs they have recruited.’
The Gaul nodded and Labienus smiled sadly. ‘You know I want naught but peace for us all, and I know you will be returning to terrible danger, but I’m trying to bring matters to a close without strewing the countryside with the bodies of all our people. Go with your Gods and ours.’
As the Gaul held out weary hands to the man holding his spear and sword, Labienus turned to the duty centurion.
‘We have a full legion, barring a few wounded, but we are lacking in cavalry.’
The centurion’s face showed his low opinion of horse soldiers — an opinion shared by many of the legion’s officers and men.
‘Cavalry have their place, centurion. I have commanded mounted forces and while there are things that the legion can do that they cannot, there are activities that require the speed and flexibility of riders. We have less than three hundred horse — probably only half that if I look at the figures. I want that upped to more than a thousand, split into four alae, each with the few regulars we have mixed among the native levies.’
The centurion shook his head. ‘Sir, Caesar has already levied every cavalryman he has the right to. If we try and call for more levies, we are exceeding our agreements with the tribes.’
‘It seems curiously out of character for you to care, centurion?’ Labienus asked with an arched brow.
The centurion looked a little taken aback, but made a quick recovery and shrugged slightly. ‘I’m not over-bothered whether they get irritated about having more of their unwashed hordes recruited, true. But I’m not a lover of the idea, when faced with a sizable enemy, of stirring up the other tribes around us. I don’t want to suddenly find we’re also facing the Mediomatrici, the Leuci and all their little friends.’
Labienus smiled.
‘Not a thought I relish either, centurion, but also not something I intend to bring about. I want your most eloquent men, accompanied by a few of our native auxilia, to head to all the larger oppida within a day’s hard ride. They will petition the tribal councils for volunteers to help us against the Treveri.’