‘You fought them?’ Vergasillaunus frowned. The Cadurci and their allies looked like a strong, untouched army.
‘No. Even strong as we were, we would almost certainly have lost to ten thousand Roman legionaries. I decided it would be better to bring the army north once more and add our strength to yours, making sure that you had all the information. We would be no use to you spread across a southern hillside feeding the crows.’
Vercingetorix nodded slowly. He did not look happy, but the spark of anger had gone from his eyes. ‘You erred towards caution,’ the king murmured. ‘This is not a trait of prime value in a warrior, but it is essential in a leader. You did the right thing. I am surprised that Caesar is so well informed and so quick to move. I would give a gold torc to find out how he learned of our activities and how he reached Narbo without us finding out. The Romans do not like to begin their wars before their festival of weapons, and that is still months away. Caesar is as slippery and unpredictable as ever.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Did the Romans see you?’
‘As far as I can tell they were not aware of us at any point. As soon as we found them, we returned through the hills ahead of them. We moved west, past Albiga, and returned by the low, easy route, but word from the mountain tribes is that Caesar moved east and north, to cross the Cevenna passes.’
Vergasillaunus shrugged. ‘Then we have nothing to worry over, and the man is a fool. He cannot hope to cross those mountains in winter. His army will be bogged down in snow and forced back to Narbo.’
The king fixed him with an appraising look and shook his head. ‘He will have succeeded. A man who has managed to move so early and in force when we have done all we can to prevent it is not a man to be put off by a mountain pass, even in winter. No, Caesar did not stop, nor did he pause. If you saw him make for the Cevenna, he will be past it now.’
‘But that would put him in our own lands?’ murmured Vergasillaunus.
‘Yes. There are easier routes to the north and to his army. If he attempted the Cevenna passes in winter, then the Arverni have been his target from the start. He has taken a force of two legions to ravage our lands while we tarry here.’
A voice from behind burst out, carrying tones of panic. ‘Two legions at work in our land?’
Vercingetorix turned a rather dangerous look on the outspoken man, a Vellavi chieftain of the oppidum of Condate, subservient to the Arverni, but whose town lay at the northern end of the main passes across that range. Probably the place where Caesar descended the mountains. Condate was likely gone already. The chieftain apparently failed to notice the nuances in his king’s expression, since he spoke again without pause.
‘All out warriors are in the north, here to fight for you. Our people are undefended!’
Vercingetorix closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, the steel they carried made the chieftain recoil. ‘Caesar is trying to manoeuvre us. He is poking a sore tooth to see how we will respond.’
‘But we must go to their aid?’ the man pleaded, raising mumbles of agreement from some of the other leaders around him.
‘Abandon our gathering of armies here? Leave the Aedui to slide back into their Rome-ish ways? That is exactly what Caesar wishes. Can you not see?’
‘But…’
‘No.’ Vercingetorix turned to Lucterius. ‘When was this? When you last saw their army?’
‘Fifteen days. Perhaps sixteen.’
Vercingetorix shook his head again. ‘Caesar is not there anyway, now.’
‘He must be…’
‘No. Caesar has left men there to tempt us south, to break off our work here. And you know what will happen if we race to Arverni lands to help our uncles and cousins defend their farms?’
Vergasillaunus nodded. ‘While we are there, Caesar will rejoin his armies and untie all the bonds we have formed with the northern tribes, weakening us.’
The king ran his fingers down his moustaches, squeezing out trickles of rainwater. ‘Caesar is a clever man, so we must be more so. Whatever he wishes us to do, we avoid doing it. We must not fall into his traps. If he is trying to draw us south, then we must stay here and continue our work, but keep careful watch on what happens around us. The Aedui, I am convinced, are the key to power in the region. They are the largest tribe, even without the numerous others under their protection, and their support may tip the scales for either Caesar or us. We must have the Aedui, so I cannot abandon this campaign, even for the sake of our villages. There is more at stake here than our own tribe; we have to look at the whole picture, and not just see a corner that is important to us.’
He turned to the outspoken chief from Condate.
‘Take your men back south… no more than a thousand, though. Protect who you can, save who you can, and take stock of what you find there, then send a messenger to us with your answers. You will not find Caesar there, of that I am sure. I doubt, in fact, that you will find a solid veteran force there. This army in our lands is a phantom Caesar raises to panic us. Old men or young recruits in shiny armour.’
As the relieved-looking chieftain nodded and turned to ride back to his own warriors, the king sighed. ‘Settle your men in with the army, Lucterius. We have brought the Bituriges to our standards and have harried other small tribes. Now we go to destroy the Boii at Gorgobina and bring the Aedui’s nerves to new heights. Soon Caesar will be upon us, and I want that troublesome tribe with us and not with him.’
* * * * *
Vellaunoduno was unimpressive, to Fronto’s eye. In the six years he had fought through Gaul, he had seen the most powerful fortresses the tribes had to offer, from the towering chiselled mountain of Aduatuca, through the treacherous coastal strongholds of the Veneti, to the swamp-ridden islands of the Menapii. Vellaunoduno had walls of reasonable quality, but it sloped gently downhill from north to south, with even the north only protected by a gentle grassy incline, and the south gate undefended by any natural obstacle.
‘We could take that place in an hour,’ he muttered, shivering in the cold breeze.
Carbo, the primus pilus of the Tenth legion and trusted officer of Fronto’s, grinned. ‘Give the word, legate and I’ll turn the place upside down for you. It’d be a damn site better than this.’
He indicated the work going on all around them, as legionaries from eight legions busily cut turf sods, worked on taking the ditch down to at least waist level and used the soil to create the rampart behind it. Atop the completed sections of the mound, other legionaries were using timber and wattle to weave strong fences and nailing them in place to posts. Here and there, men were even constructing low towers to sit above the fence, affording a good view of the oppidum and its surroundings. The work was going on in a wide circle that surrounded Vellaunoduno, leaving just under a scorpion-shot between the two opposing walls.
Fronto sighed. ‘No. Sadly, we cannot. Caesar gave his orders. Circumvallation. He wants the oppidum undamaged for its stores.’
‘I can’t help but wonder what the Gauls are thinking, sir. They’re Senones, and that means they’re theoretically our allies, yet we pitch up here with eight legions and build siege works? And what happens when the bloody-minded buggers inside decide it’s better to burn the granaries than let us have the grain?’
Fronto nodded. The same thoughts had occurred to him. ‘There are rumours that the western Senones are sending warriors south to Vercingetorix, and when we arrived, they shut the gate. No welcome party generally means you’re not welcome. And as to the granaries, we’ll have to trust to their sense of self-preservation. Currently we have no reason to put them to the sword. We are not officially at war with them, after all. Caesar will grant them favourable terms in return for supplies.’