The ordo — the council — of Divonanto sat on a set of stepped benches at the far end of the room, for all the world like a Gallic version of the senate, though undoubtedly with more conviction, morals and sense than the Roman ruling body. Eight old men, each with a torc and silver and gold jewellery in evidence. None were armed or armoured, which gave Fronto cause for relief, since he’d left his own weapon outside with Quietus, along with that of each of the four men he’d brought inside with him.
‘Well met, ambassador of Caesar,’ intoned one old man, holding up a hand in greeting.
‘And to you, elders of Divonanto,’ he replied, pleased at the level of introduction. It seemed no one was going to stand on too much ceremony here — at least the cacophonic carnyxes were auspiciously absent. ‘We seek your counsel’ he added.
‘So we are led to understand. You seek news of your enemies?’
‘Of one enemy in particular,’ Fronto scanned the faces of the council. Impassive, but curious. Not the faces of deceivers or enemies. He felt his posture relax a little more.
‘You seek Ambiorix of the Eburones,’ the old man said in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘We do. We understand that he has made contact with the Nervii, the Menapii and the Treveri. Though we have not heard as much, we also suspect him to be initiating contact with the tribes beyond the great river Rhenus, as well as possibly wresting what remains of his own tribe from the control of his brother king, Cativolcus.’
‘First tell me,’ the old man asked, leaning forward with an interested frown, ‘why a small unit of Romans hunt their great enemy, shunning the trappings and symbols of your Republic?’
Fronto nodded. It was a very fair question and one whose answer he was sure could only strengthen their position.
‘The general — Caesar, that is — has pledged to one of our greatest Gods to bring down Ambiorix. He will burn the world if he has to in order to complete that vow. I am sure you, living in such a sacred place, will appreciate the importance of a vow to the Gods?’
Nods all round.
‘The Nervii have already suffered his wrath for treating with Ambiorix, and he will do the same to other tribes until the rebel king is his. While the Nervii deserved what befell them to some extent, I seek to close the matter early and save the rest of the Belgae from further destruction. Some Romans see the only solution for the troublesome tribes to be their removal. Others — myself included — see that the level of cooperation that exists between our two peoples could be extended to all, and as such, we would prefer to avoid potentially opening a crevasse between our peoples with such destruction.’
More nods. Mutters quietly among the nobles in their own tongue. Fronto stood silent, patient, waiting.
‘Ambiorix moved among the Treveri little more than a week ago,’ the old man announced finally. ‘It seems that he stirs up trouble among them. Your general in the south put the Treveri to flight and killed Indutiomarus, but that unfortunate King has living relatives who would see him avenged. Ambiorix fans the flames of their desire.’
‘The Treveri,’ Fronto noted with a sidelong look at Samognatos. The scout looked unhappy. Not surprising, really, considering the possibility of moving into the lands of one of his tribe’s most rabid enemies.
‘Hold,’ the old man said, raising his hand again. ‘There is some indication that Ambiorix and his men passed into the lands of the Segni mere days ago.’
Fronto shook his head. ‘Not heard of the Segni. Who are they?’
‘The Segni are a small people who lie to our east,’ the old man replied.
‘They supply a cavalry force to Caesar,’ added Samognatos. ‘They are a loyal tribe.’
‘Perhaps no longer, if they now harbour Ambiorix.’ He looked up at the council. ‘Is this your latest information?’
The old man nodded. ‘Conjecturally, if he has moved from Treveri lands into the Segni’s territory, he may be making for Eburone lands again, home into his deep woods under the protection of Arduenna. Pray to your Gods that he has not done so, Roman. If Ambiorix disappears into Arduenna’s reach, you will never touch him.’
‘Don’t underestimate the tenacity and reach of Rome, my friend,’ Fronto said darkly. ‘Thank you for your aid. It is greatly appreciated, and I will make sure that Caesar knows of it. Before we leave, I would ask if you have had any contact with the southern tribes? The Arverni in particular?’
The old man frowned. The council began to chatter to one another again and Fronto squinted into the dim light to scan their faces. Years of facing off against men across a council chamber or a battlefield or even a game of dice had given Fronto a reasonable ability to read a man’s expression, and he was satisfied from what he saw that the council had no knowledge of the men who had apparently passed through here. Certainly if anyone was involved with them, he was an excellent liar and a master of maintaining a straight expression.
‘We know nothing of the Arverni, Roman. In fact, in these troubled days we see no one but our neighbouring tribes or your own people. Are we to be wary of the Arverni? I was under the impression that they were a quiet and uninvolved people.’
Fronto nodded quietly. ‘We were under that impression too, but that might be about to change, if I am correct. Beware any southerner entering your land, and Caesar and I would both appreciate knowing if they make contact at any time?’
‘I will make sure to do so,’ the old man bowed. ‘Will you be staying with us for the day? We were unaware of your approach until the last moment, but would be pleased to lavish a feast in your honour tomorrow?’
‘Tempting as that is,’ Fronto smiled, ‘I must decline. If Ambiorix is headed into the great forest’s depths, we must move on him with all haste. I am truly grateful, but we must leave as soon as we have consulted your druids in the morning.’
The old man nodded. ‘We will pray to Arduenna for your safety and success beneath her boughs. She is, after all, a huntress!’
Fronto smiled. ‘Then with the aid of my own ladies of Luck and Vengeance, how can we fail?’
* * * * *
Legionary Aurelius sighed with relief. Despite their position, far from the army and deep in Gallic lands, life had improved for him no end. For all Fronto’s warnings of what a place in this unit would mean, for Aurelius it meant no more digging latrines, raising earth ramparts or ‘soft duty’ — removing and cleaning the tribunes’ piss pots from their rooms. Even though he’d drawn one of the black stones and had to make do with finding a sleeping space in the hay loft of the stables, it was still a dozen steps above life in the old cohort.
Carefully, so as not to wake the rest of the slumbering soldiers, Aurelius descended the ladder from the loft, alighting in his bare feet. After all, he’d only be a few moments, and the ground was drier than it had been for months.
Taking a deep breath, he trotted out of the stable’s river-side door. The familiar shape of Drusus sat hunched against the wall, cloak wrapped around him for warmth in the chill of the night and fastened with the ‘naked girl clasp’ which had cost him a bundle a few years back. The heavier-set legionary nodded to him in recognition and Aurelius nodded back before wandering across to the river. Standing at the cobbled dock and grumbling about the ache of the lumpy uneven surface on his bare feet, Aurelius hoisted up his tunic and pulled aside his subligaculum, straining for a moment before a long arc of steaming urine jetted out into the wide, glass-dark river with a loud spatter.
Relief.
He watched the far bank, where only scrub bushes and occasional knots of trees punctuated the monotony of green slopes beneath the black-purple sky. From what they said about the great forest of Arduenna, on whose periphery they now waited, the chances of seeing such open spaces and such an expanse of sky again for some time were rather small. Some people said that the protector Goddess sealed off the sky with the boughs of her trees so that even birds could not enter or flee without her leave.