‘Who are they?’ hissed Litavicus, jabbing an angry finger at the opposing army.
‘They must… must be Arverni,’ another of the six stuttered in panicked confusion.
‘Really? Squint against the light and tell me what standards you see among them.’
A suspicion settled on Cavarinos and he did just that, having to fight to keep a slow smile from spreading across his face. Barely visible, they were, but if you squinted and strained, you could just make them out.
‘Horses,’ admitted the deflated Biturige rider.
‘Yes. Braid-maned horses. Several of them. And I think you know what the braid-maned horse means?’
Yes, Cavarinos thought, his mind working fast to put this puzzle together, Bituriges. They were the horse-standards of the Bituriges!
‘But I do not understand,’ spluttered the panicked rider. ‘How did they leave the oppidum? The Arverni must have left…fled the area…’
Cavarinos was fighting to keep that smile contained. He had seen unbraided horses on other standards… those of Vercingetorix’s staunch allies, the Carnutes, for example. The Carnutes, who were so deeply involved that they had loosed the first arrow of the war. Whose lands were close by, to the north, a stone’s throw from Avaricon. The Carnutes who’d had no task as yet but to join the main force at Avaricon. So long as the Aedui and the six panicked Bituriges did not make that same connection… time to nudge them further into suspicion of treachery.
He coughed to disguise the slight bark of laughter that had escaped despite all his efforts. ‘No,’ he announced, and for the first time Litavicus looked over at him. Cavarinos pointed at the army across the river. ‘As well as the many boars and the few braided horses, in the two larger groups, see the winged serpent of the Arverni among the third. Betrayal!’ he announced, echoing the thoughts rushing through the assembled force. ‘They seek to entrap us and thus weaken our tribe.’
Without warning, three of the Bituriges kicked their horses into action, fleeing the scene. Only two of them made it past the vanguard’s thrusting weapons, the third receiving a bronze spear point through the spine for his troubles, the shaft waving for a moment before the man fell from his steed and nearby Aeduan warriors rushed over to hack the unfortunate to pieces. From the angle at which he rode, it appeared that one of those pair who had made it was now living on time borrowed from the halls of the dead, clutching his side as a steady spray of crimson droplets left a trail across the green-white grass.
Before Cavarinos could say anything more, in anger, the assembled Aedui had slain the remaining three Bituriges among them, hacking at their necks with swords and impaling their torsos on long spears. One of the more rabid Aeduan riders made to follow the fleeing pair, his already-blooded sword brandished, but Litavicus called them back.
‘Leave them to their fate,’ he ordered. ‘This fight is not for us. Let the treacherous Bituriges wallow under the rule of the Arverni. Back to Bibracte!’ He managed to catch Cavarinos’ eye for a heartbeat as he turned, and there was a barely-perceptible nod. The job was done.
The force slowly turned, putting its back to the mysterious force of Arverni and Bituriges and making for the great oppidum of Bibracte once more. Cavarinos gave the army across the river a last brief glance, picturing them removing the wooden braids they had used to turn Carnute standards into Biturige ones. He wished he could see the trapped tribes folk in Avaricon when those two riders made it back to tell them that the Aedui were not coming and that they were on their own. The leaders’ resolve to defy Vercingetorix would crumble within the hour!
The Arverni noble kicked his horse on with the rest of the Aedui horsemen, allowing himself to drop towards the rear of the force. He would have to wait until dark to slip away from the retreating Aedui and return to the army of his kin. He would not have a chance to speak to Litavicus, but the young warrior had played his part and played it well, and Cavarinos had no doubt that they would meet again soon enough.
* * * * *
Cavarinos slung his heavy saddle bag to the damp turf outside Vercingetorix’ tent, a proud leather edifice bearing the name of some important Roman, which had been confiscated along with most of the interior furnishings from a cart in a Roman convoy near Vesontio early in the year. He knew his brother hated the thing, but the Romans made practical, durable kit, whatever else you thought of them, and the king of the Arverni couldn’t have hoped for a better campaigning tent.
The two men standing nearby had merely nodded to him as he arrived and he pushed his way inside without challenge. Vercingetorix sat on a plump, dark red cushion that was made from some smooth material Cavarinos had heard came all the way from the lands of the Seres, far over the mountains to the east of Greece. Nearby, Critognatos sat on a smooth log, showing disdain for such Roman luxuries. Vergasillaunus lounged in a wooden chair. None of the others were present, which was a great relief to Cavarinos, given the aches in his bones and the weary fug in his head following a ride at breakneck pace from the fleeing Aeduan force a few hours earlier. His horse would take a while to recover, and Cavarinos could do with a day or two’s sleep himself.
‘The hero returns,’ grinned Vergasillaunus. ‘How did you like our surprise?’
Cavarinos laughed a tired laugh and with a respectful nod at the king, sunk into the comfiest chair he could see, a Roman one lined with thin velvet cushions.
‘It surprised me, but you should have seen the look on the rest of the faces.’ He chuckled at the memory. ‘I have to say that I was half-convinced that Litavicus was playing us false until the last moment. But he held it together well. The Aedui will be convinced that their allies have deserted them and come over to us.’
‘Which,’ Vergasillaunus grinned, ‘is precisely what will now happen, of course.’
‘Neatly done. And, of course, the Aedui will begin to think on the value of their oath to Rome in the knowledge that Caesar and his army are separated and their supply and communication lines ruined, while our army grows ever stronger. They might not be ready to commit yet, mind, even with traitors working for us from within.’
Vergasillaunus nodded. ‘But we must have them. When we have the Aedui, a dozen other wavering tribes will throw in their lot with us.’
The Arverni king cracked his knuckles, drawing silence from the tent. ‘We will stay here at Avaricon until all is settled to our satisfaction. The survivors of your little foray made their way back into the oppidum an hour or two before you returned and this night the whole tribe will panic, debate, argue and hide their valuables. Then, in the morning, I expect to see their deputation come forth with the desire to join us. I anticipate a week or more, though, before we can be certain that things are correct here, and in that time I will draw a sizeable force from them to bolster our army. Then, in due course, we will move on west, against the Boii oppidum of Gorgobina. The Boii also live within Aedui protection and their fall to us will help weaken the Aedui’s resolve. I see this as the last series of moves before we are ready to face the legions. Gorgobina will be flattened and the Boii annihilated. The Aedui will realise they are alone. They will send to the Romans for aid, but their commander in the field is careful and prudent. He will not commit to them without his general’s consent, for he will fear another winter that sees the loss of entire legions. The Aedui will be truly isolated, and our traitors will turn them to us. Then, with the aid of the reticent tribes of the northwest, we will become a vast horde, easily capable of swatting the ten legions in the north. All is proceeding as expected, my friends. But we must be cunning and political and not deviate from the plan.’