Behind him, Fabius and Furius exchanged looks and the latter cleared his throat. ‘When we were at Gergovia, I remember Pixtilos,’ he noted Fronto’s frown and paused to explain, ‘a tame Arvernian merchant we dealt with,’ and back to Priscus, ‘Pixtilos named three settlements heading south between Gergovia and the mountains.’
Priscus nodded. ‘I remember Briva. We had to give that place a wide berth.’
‘Right. And south from there are Revessio and Condate. He said Condate was in the lower mountain valleys. He used to deliver grain there. We’re past that area now, so maybe this is Revessio.’
Caesar pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘This is all very fascinating, but I am more concerned with the lie of the land than its nomenclature. We are in a race against time here, along with Vercingetorix. I have no doubt that he works to strengthen his forces, while ours remain spread thin. We have to gain the upper hand — combine our forces and harry him — to turn the tables on this Arverni rebel.’
‘And how do we do that?’ Fronto huffed in a cloud of chilled breath.
‘It begins here, gentlemen. As a concerted force, we wipe this settlement from the face of Gaul, so all that remains is a column of smoke visible for ten miles, but we make sure we allow a few to escape and carry the word of our work. I will leave the infantry here under the command of…’ he paused, his eyes on Fronto for a moment until he shook his head and moved on. ‘…Brutus. You will take the remaining seven thousand new legionaries and the Narbonensis garrison under Aristius. I will leave you a few alae of cavalry and I expect you to continue the men’s training while they work. Your remit is simple: move around the entire Arverni region, ravaging and destroying. Make sure you leave survivors to tell the tale. I want word of this wanton destruction to reach the ears of their King. He will not be able to resist coming to deal with you.’
‘Respectfully, Caesar, if he does that, we are in serious trouble,’ Brutus said quietly.
‘That is why I want you to be lightly-equipped and highly mobile. You will hit places and then run. Move on all the time. Stay out of reach of any army sent after you, but keep needling this Arvernian by destroying his people. You will need to travel light, so no supplies or heavy equipment. Live in the field and train the men in the art of forage survival.’ Brutus nodded his understanding, Aristius straight faced beside him.
‘While we do what?’ asked Fronto.
‘While we rendezvous with the rest of the army. We are now far enough north that we will be past the bulk of the enemy who watch the Rhodanus valley, and if Brutus does his job here with adequate zeal and vigour, all rebel eyes will be upon him. While he ravages, we will make for Vienna, move up the Rhodanus, picking up the legions in the two smaller winter camps and head for Agedincum where we shall mass the army. On the journey we will take only Ingenuus and his praetorians, and each of us will be mounted, so we will move much faster than the Arvernian and his force.’
‘And then?’
Caesar smiled hawkishly. ‘And then, while the rebel has been forced to halt his recruiting and deal with the trouble in his southern lands, we will begin the work of suppressing the north, removing his power bases. We will isolate him from his allies, the Carnutes, and then begin to drive south, pinning him against the mountains and our other forces. We have an opportunity here to trick the man into a dangerous position and finish him off. We will not waste it.’
He looked across once more at Brutus. ‘I will take my guard and depart now with appropriate officers. Begin your work, Brutus, and draw the eye of the rebel south.’
* * * * *
Marcus Aristius, newly-raised tribune commanding the Narbonensis garrison, leaned around the tree and peered at the settlement below. The collection of huts and houses that they had named Revessio — whether it was or not — lay peaceful, almost slumbering. No more than a hundred folk could live there, including women, children and the elderly.
He glanced back over his shoulder. Once Caesar and his officers and guard had departed, the noble Brutus had quickly taken stock of the situation and decided that it was time to begin assessing the capabilities of the new units, but in concert with one another. Aristius had been given the task of destroying the settlement and allowing no more than half a dozen survivors to flee, making sure to drive them north, towards Vercingetorix and his army.
With an estimated hundred residents, Aristius had settled upon only a small force as a first test. One century of the garrison troops under a centurion who had cut his teeth on Spanish tribal wars, one century of the new legionaries with a centurion who’d just come out of retirement, but had fought in Caesar’s first year in Gaul, and a single ala of thirty two horse. Just short of two hundred men. Plenty for the task. The place would likely have the usual contingent of fighting men found in any Gallic settlement, but not many. Most would be farm folk.
With a series of signals that he hoped were not open to misinterpretation, he sent the lighter-armed garrison troops down to the right, into the valley, held his hand up to the legionaries to remain in position, and gestured for the cavalry to move down into the other valley on their left and behind the screen of trees that bordered the stream which ran along the bottom of it.
Despite his position in the military government of Narbonensis and his apparently-advancing rank, Aristius had never yet in his career commanded a unit in action, and he found his heart racing. It was not the fear of battle or combat — he would not be expected to do any actual fighting, he was sure — it was the fear of failing in his first command. Of making a fool of himself. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched the two departing units moving into position in the valleys and as soon as both had stopped moving, he had the standard bearer wave commands to the three forces.
So far, so good.
In response to the signal, the legionaries behind him began to approach with the measured step of trained soldiers, their mail chinking and their boots crunching on the cold ground where the grass of the hilltop was still hard with morning frost. They looked every bit the veteran legion. He could only hope they fought like one.
The garrison, to his dismay, were already falling behind, unable to pull together into a cohesive unit and keep pace. He could just make out the optio smacking legs and backs with his staff, pulling the unit into vague order. To his relief, they moved to quick pace and began to catch up, slowing once more as they pulled level and forming better lines.
As per orders, the cavalry waited until the two infantry forces began to move on the village and the standard waved again, and then burst into activity, racing along the treeline and making for the outlying houses and farm buildings.
Aristius opened his mouth as he felt the gradient start to pull him at speed towards the enemy, but it seemed the centurions were already ahead of the game as the man with the transverse crest a dozen paces to his left yelled out the command for quick time.
As the cavalry raced in, converging from the left and the garrison troops picked up the pace on their right, two things happened simultaneously: a shout of alarm went up in the settlement with a bell ringing in desperation, and chaos struck the force descending the hill behind Aristius. The new legionaries marched well, but as the pace suddenly increased at the same time as the gradient, the men — unused to such activity and unable to maintain formation, suddenly broke apart. Two men in the second row lost their footing and fell, bringing down the legionaries in front of them. Those behind largely veered around the chaos, but their own change of direction impacted on other files of men and caused further falls and collisions. In moments, half the century was rolling down the hill in the clatter and crash of armour and weapons, shields splintering and chain-mail hooks snapping. The other half were leaping over fallen bodies or swerving wide to pass them.