“They will likely run to join the coalition.”
The Remi officer’s head snapped round sharply.
“The what?”
“The Vocates and the Tarusates’ army. You have not heard of this?”
Galronus straightened again, his blood pumping fast.
“Army?”
The man smiled now, a smug smile that worried Galronus.
“The Vocates and their neighbours have been sending for allies since your legion first crossed the Charanta river. They have sent their warriors and leaders to mass an army in the mountains, where the Spanish tribes will join them.”
Galronus blinked.
“The Spanish tribes?”
The man laughed.
“It would appear we will not have to hold to our oath for too long.”
Galronus’ gaze passed swiftly across the field until he spied Crassus, standing with the other tribunes and a couple of centurions by his hastily-erected command tent, deep in conversation.
“Go over there and relay this to the legate. He may be very generous.”
The man shrugged.
“I tell you this not for my own gain, but because it is right to do so and because your knowing your own doom will not change it.”
Galronus glared at him.
“Just go and tell everything to the commander.”
For a moment, he watched the man ride off, and then wheeled his horse and trotted across to two large gatherings of cavalry, sitting ahorse as they monitored the passage of the tribesfolk. As he reined in, he gestured to two of the officers.
“You, gather fully half the cavalry and have them split and posted around all the other entrances to the oppidum. Be prepared for anyone trying to leave and stop them any way you have to.”
The officer saluted and rode off, and Galronus turned to the other man.
“I want you to take a detachment of five hundred men. Have half of them dismount. We’re going into the city. Meet me at the main gate when you have the men.”
The officer saluted and rode across to his juniors and Galronus sighed. Nothing was ever easy. Sparing a brief glance for the command tent and the Sotiate noble riding toward it, he wheeled once again and rode swiftly across the open space before the gathering tribe. The tribune was deeply involved in his bureaucracy, lines of gleaming legionaries overseeing the disarming process.
“Tribune?” he called as he reined in again and dismounted.
“Commander?”
Rusca gestured to the line to halt and lowered his wax tablet and stylus.
“I have a favour to ask.”
“Go on?”
“I need some heavy troops used to fighting on foot. Could I requisition two of your centuries and their officers? We may be looking at trouble in the town.”
The man frowned and tapped his lip with the stylus.
“It’s most irregular. Requests like that should go through the chain of command and come down to me from the legate.”
Galronus nodded.
“I appreciate that, but the matter is of some urgency.”
Rusca glanced past him at the dismounted cavalry, their mounted comrades riding alongside them as they descended on the gate.
“If it’s serious, take the Second and Fourth centuries. Their centurions are over by the gate.”
Galronus nodded and gave a half-hearted salute, handing his horse’s reins to a legionary and striding across to the centurions.
“You two have been assigned to me for a short time.”
The centurions shared a surprised glance and saluted as the cavalry began to arrive.
“Alright” the officer addressed his mixed force. “We have a rogue leader somewhere in the oppidum, likely trying to break out and make for the mountains. He has a fanatically loyal guard of some six hundred men. If we can get them to surrender without a fight, all to the good, but whatever happens, they don’t leave the settlement except under our guard. We’re going inside and each time we pass a side street, I want mixed parties of legionaries, horsemen and dismounted cavalry to clear the area. You know your ground tactics better than I, but six hundred men should not be hard to find. They can hardly hide in a house.”
The centurions saluted and turned to the cornicen and signifers nearby, calling out their orders.
Galronus gazed through the gate at the broad street beyond. At least this place was small.
The oppidum was even smaller inside than Galronus had expected, the streets forming roughly concentric circles around a central square, with major thoroughfares crossing them and leading from the centre toward the gates, curving and bending as necessary to make their way around structures that had been present before the road system was formed.
It was unusual in Gaulish settlements, but Galronus had seen similar forms before. At some time in the recent decades, fire must have ravaged the oppidum and the town had been rebuilt with more spacious streets in an almost Roman style, allowing for the buildings that had survived the catastrophe to remain.
Whether that was the cause of the layout or not, Galronus was thankful of it. Sweeping the streets of the town with his troops had been made considerably easier by the simple shape they took. Here and there they had come across groups of tribesmen who were making for the main gate to comply with the legate’s terms, though already most of the population had left.
It had taken less than half an hour to sweep most of the settlement clear and now, as the entire scattered force began to join up once again, closing in on the remaining section of town, Galronus was beginning to wonder whether he had been the victim of a strange trick.
His doubts were assuaged, however, as the cavalryman at the front of his small force was suddenly plucked from his saddle and thrown with a shriek against the squat, timber wall of the house behind him.
Before the cry of alarm went up, more arrows struck, peppering the mixed force. Half a dozen men had fallen before the legionaries filtered through the mass to the front, raising their heavy shields and forming a barrier to the deadly hail.
Galronus ran forward, waving a signal to the cavalry officer ahead. While the mounted troops were good for searching the streets and chasing down survivors, they would be of precious little use in harsh fighting at street level. Responding instantly to his orders, the officer called to his men and they raced on past the side street from which the arrows had issued before dismounting and hurriedly finding something to which to tie their reins so they could fall in on foot and join the fight.
Arrows continued to pound the shields of the legionaries as Galronus appeared between the dismounted cavalry and peered round the corner.
The street was seething with men. The Remi commander’s sharp eyes picked out the four important facets of the enemy force in moments. The near side was formed of perhaps a hundred men with spears and bows, defending the rear of Adcantuannus’ soldurii. Far ahead, he could see another smaller group of perhaps fifty or so men making for the postern gate at the end of the road, a plausible route to escape the city. The leader himself was clearly distinguishable, gleaming in bronze and gold, toward the far end of the street with half a dozen burly men around him. The last group that made up the force were the bulk of the ‘soldurii’ gathered at the centre, close by their leader and ready to fight or flee depending upon the circumstances.
Galronus frowned.
This street was a side street that shouldn’t lead to a gate. He’d been round the periphery of the oppidum earlier and marked the location of all the gates with his forces. This gate shouldn’t exist, damn it.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to one of the legionaries, crouching behind his large shield in the third row.
“Give me that!”
The soldier relinquished his shield unhappily and shuffled closer to the man beside him and Galronus mimicked the stance of a defending legionary, hunkering down behind his shield as he squeezed his way through the crowd and out to the front.