‘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 Vercingetorix 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.’