Sabinus glared at him and then fell silent and slumped into the chair.
“Alright. Are you suggesting that I allow the tribes to leave peacefully anyway? Viridovix was the central part of my terms.”
Galba shrugged.
“With respect, sir, if the man had been there today, they’d have handed him to you in pieces if necessary. In fact, I suspect the fact that he fled from their side before they failed has lost him his last friends among the Unelli. I fear it would be unjust to severely prosecute the tribes for the cowardice of their leader.”
“Agreed” Sabinus sighed. “We need peace and we need them to go back to farming and sending us grain. Very well, we’ll go ahead with the terms, but I want an active hunt for that treacherous bastard. I want him to run like a boar, knowing there are a thousand spears stalking through every forest looking for him.”
Galba nodded and stepped to one side, a move calculated to put Cantorix in the fore, lit by the afternoon sun shining in through the tent doorway.
Sabinus gave a weak smile.
“Cantorix? Good. Some good comes out of even the most irritating situations. Your men all survived?”
The centurion saluted, nodding.
“To a man, sir. They’re survivors, my lot, sir.” He grinned. “Like cockroaches, sir.”
Sabinus laughed and gestured to the legate standing to one side.
“These men did your legion credit this past day, Plancus. They performed like the best of veterans, as did, I might add, the rest of the Fourteenth. Commendations, awards and preferential shares of the spoils will be forthcoming as soon as the matter of taking slaves, performing executions and dispersing the tribes is complete.”
He glanced past Cantorix.
“The Ninth and Twelfth also acquitted themselves well, particularly given the reduced nature of both legions at this time. Rest assured that mention of that will be made to Caesar when we return.”
He leaned back.
“And that brings me to the question of how we proceed from here. The tribal alliance here is broken, but we need to be sure it stays broken.”
He reached forward to the map of Armorica spread out on the table before him.
“The oppidum of Crociatonum has been used by the rebels as a military fortress, stripped of its civil population. The legions will settle here as a garrison for the foreseeable future, at least until Caesar orders their movement or withdrawal. While based here, I want regular vexillations of three cohorts in size sent out to look for Viridovix, to gather supplies and information concerning the tribes that have just retaken their oaths, and to make sure that a strong Roman presence is continually felt in the area in order to put the notion of further rebellion far from their minds.”
He leaned back again.
“Our small cavalry detachment, along with a couple of the tribunes in command, will ride for Caesar’s army to inform him of the completion of our mission here and will return with any news from the campaign against the Veneti. In the meantime, we will see to our dead, including the recovered body of tribune Gallus, and process the Gauls. Are there any questions?”
Silence filled the tent and Sabinus gave a weary smile.
“Then let’s get things tidied up. It has been a very long day.” He eyed Cantorix. “Even longer for some of us. Time to rest and recover, eh centurion?”
Chapter 15
(Iunius: Inland Aquitania, two months prior to Caesar’s victory over the Veneti at the battle of Darioritum)
Gaius Pinarius Rusca, senior tribune of the Seventh legion, shuffled in his saddle.
“What are we waiting for, sir?”
Crassus shot him an irritable glance; the man asked too many questions. Still, while Rusca was as military-minded as a bag of brassica, a fresh-faced political ‘would be’ from Rome, he would likely be gone within the year and, after all, being surrounded by such idiots did one’s own image no harm.
“Reinforcements, tribune.”
“Sir?”
Crassus sighed.
“We are a single legion, as you may have noted, Rusca, not a force of three or four such as those being led in the north.”
Galronus of the Remi, leader of the strong auxiliary cavalry force accompanying the Seventh legion, rolled his eyes, his own irritation barely contained behind clenched teeth. Throughout the three week march south into Aquitanian lands, the legate of the Seventh, a man Fronto had told him to be careful of, had persisted with the attitude that the Seventh legion were effectively a noble and veteran force, moving alone through hostile territory, while the numerous detachments of Gallic cavalry were little more than a hindrance that blocked an otherwise impressive view.
Rusca looked taken aback.
“Of course, sir. But one legion was enough for you to crush the north west.”
Oh good. Stupid and sycophantic.
“Rusca, the Armorican tribes were relatively civilised Gauls in small groups, with their own internecine wars to attend to. Conquering them was like laying down the law to a group of squabbling children by comparison with this.”
At least Galronus could agree with him on that point.
“Aquitania constitutes fully a third of Gaulish territory, Rusca. We are not talking about a few squabbling tribes here, but what amounts to an entire nation. There may be many tribes in Aquitania, but there are a few very powerful ones at the top of the heap who maintain power in the region. If we wish to control Aquitania, we must first seek to control those tribes.”
He squinted into the distance and gave a small half-smile.
“Don’t forget, Rusca, that very clever and powerful men have fallen foul of this place over the last century and more. Praeconinus and his army died here. Manilius barely escaped back to Narbonensis with his life. We will find no allies here and no friendly supplies. Make no mistake: in Aquitania, the Seventh legion is utterly alone.”
Again, Galronus ground his teeth as he glanced over his shoulder at the assembled mass of thousands of Gallic cavalry, but his attention was drawn back to the legate as the man laughed.
“So we must be prepared. And like all good commanders, I prepared as much as possible before we even left Vindunum. I sent a few requests and messages ahead with some trusted couriers. See how my preparations begin to pay off?”
He pointed to the saddle further down the valley, the few flitting clouds casting patchy shadows along the ridge. As Galronus and the tribune watched, men began to pour over the rise in their direction.
Galronus frowned.
“With respect, legate, may I ask how you managed to arrange such a large force of reinforcements?”
Crassus shrugged.
“I have a not-inconsiderable supply of money and influence. Add to that the authority of Caesar and you’d be surprised how easy it is to raise an army. I can only imagine how the decurions of Tolosa, Narbo and Carcaso must have panicked and fallen over one another to provide my troops and supplies in time.”
Galronus narrowed his eyes.
“The general authorised extra troops, sir?”
Crassus turned an angry look on him.
“Beware the pit trap of insolence, commander. I authorised them in the general’s name. Such authority is implied in my command. The general would rather we cost him a little inconvenience and succeeded in our task than we lost him an entire legion in the wilds of Aquitania; of that I’m certain.”
Galronus turned his astonished gaze back to the army pouring over the crest and down the valley toward them.
“There are thousands of them!”
“Somewhere in the region of three thousand, if my requests have all been met; mostly archers and spear men, along with a good supply train of grain and other goods.”
Crassus smiled smugly as he watched the army pouring toward them to almost double the size of his force.