Julian resolved to continue the operation on his own. The barbarians hindered us from chasing them through the already dangerous mountain roads, however, by an ingenious technique: They would first cut a row of enormous trees along our route in such a way that they remained upright, supported by only the slenderest layer of uncut bark. They then moved a hundred feet deeper into the forest and did the same thing with another row of trees, aiming their arc of fall at the first row carefully balanced along the road. Lastly, they hid in silence until our troops passed through the trap on their march, at which point, from deep in the woods, the barbarians used cunningly prepared ropes to pull down the farthest row of trees, which crashed in turn onto the huge trees nearest the road and sent them toppling onto our terrified troops. We lost a large number of men and wasted untold days clearing the roads after several ghostly attacks of this nature before we finally fought through to the Rhine.
Here, however, the barbarians sheltered their raiding parties on sandbars in the middle of the river. To gain access to them we required boats, of which we had none. Barbatio, however, had many at his camp upstream. Julian sent a courier to him asking for a mere seven, and in response Barbatio burned all he had, much to the delight of the watching barbarians. Chonodomarius, in fact, even took it upon himself to offer us assistance by sending the half-burned hulk of a captured Roman grain barge floating downstream, draped with the crew's mutilated corpses and painted with obscene Latin epithets in huge red letters on the outside of the hull for all to see.
Julian ignored the insult. By moonlight, he sent the scout Bainobaudes with a squad of auxiliaries to attempt access to the raiders' islands, using anything that floated. The first wave of troops, using rafts and dinghies hastily constructed from the timbers of Chonodomarius' gift vessel, reached the nearest island and actually took the barbarians by surprise, slaughtering them in their sleep. Then discovering the dug-out canoes the barbarians themselves used to move about, they seized those as well, and continued their raids on the other islands over the next several nights. After a week, Bainobaudes returned from his expedition loaded with Roman booty recovered from the barbarians, to the acclaim of the worried soldiers waiting on the banks. The remaining barbarians in the vicinity, seeing that they were no longer safe even on the islands, retreated with their possessions across the Rhine to the right bank.
Barbatio, however, continued his obstruction and harassment, absconding with supply columns carrying provisions to Julian, burning crops that were intended as forage for our animals, and rejecting all pleas for cooperation. The troops on both sides, as well as the barbarians, watched the rivalry between the two commanders with a great deal of interest, though ignorant of the motives behind it. Their confusion, however, did not prevent the soldiers from drawing their own conclusion, which was logical enough: that Julian, a novice in military matters though increasingly perceived as a potential threat to the Emperor's rule, had not really been sent to reconquer Gaul, but rather to meet death on the battlefield. Wrong though this deduction might be, it only further increased the loyalty of his men to the cause.
Even Barbatio, however, could not simply remain an impediment forever, and he eventually received orders from Rome stating in no uncertain terms that it was imperative that he cross the river, establish a presence on the left bank of the Rhine, and meet up with the army of Gaul. Our couriers reported signs of increased activity at Barbatio's camp in preparation for a major movement, and a message we received from Eutherius about that time noted that the Emperor and his advisers were eagerly awaiting news from Barbatio of a major victory against the barbarians without help. Julian felt this tactic was senseless, and that a successful strategy would require the combined forces of both armies. One afternoon, however, as we walked back from a review of the troops, he confessed to me his frustration at being unable to effect this collaboration with Barbatio.
'What is worse,' he concluded, 'I am running short of ambassadors. I've already sent my own household steward to Rome, and all of my military couriers to Barbatio have been insulted and ejected from his camp. I must resort to asking a personal favor of you, Caesarius — particularly since you and Barbatio are already old acquaintances.'
I listened to him in silence and some consternation. As you know, Brother, ever since we were children it has always been you who has been the public speaker in the family. I myself have always been wholly incapable of putting two words together coherently in front of strangers, and it is fortunate that you found your calling as a priest and a polemicist, for I am much more comfortable silently examining the dead than verbally cross-examining the living. We strode over to Julian's camp tent, where Sallustius was waiting impatiently, reviewing a sheaf of reports from the scouts.
'Explain to Caesarius the mission on which we are sending him,' Julian said.
Sallustius scarcely looked up. 'Just this,' he replied tersely. 'Convince Barbatio to stop seizing our supplies and obstructing our affairs, and rather to concentrate on destroying any barbarians the Caesar's forces might drive his way. All he needs to do is cross the Rhine and stay put, with his eyes open and his legions ready, while we beat the bushes for Chonodomarius and his men. Barbatio will get the pleasure of the killing and credit for the victory, and can retire happily back to Rome, leaving the province free of Alemanni. Don't worry about your luggage, physician. Your bags are already packed.'
I took a deep breath and looked at Julian. He smiled at me confidently and slapped me on the shoulder, wishing me a successful trip, and in less time than it would have taken me to say a paternoster slowly, I found myself on a military courier horse with a guard of six cavalrymen, galloping to Augst.
BOOK FOUR
The death of earth is to become water, and the death of water is to become air, and the death of air is to become fire.
I
We arrived several days later, shortly after the noon hour, after talking our way past Barbatio's guard outposts and across the river on a rickety supply ferry. Even this far toward the Rhine's source, and in the low waters of summer, the river was wide and sluggish. Trotting north along the well-traveled road, signs of Barbatio's camp became evident miles before we actually arrived. For yards on either side of the road the land had been laid bare — clear-cut of its enormous, centuries-old fir and pine trees, the terrain shorn and denuded of all but the slenderest of saplings. Limbs and brush had been dragged into mounds and burned to charred heaps. Skid roads and wagon ruts crossed the land at all angles where the huge logs were still being bucked and dragged away by Gallic drovers using enormous teams of oxen — twenty-four, sometimes thirty-six or more, enough muscle power and raw materials to build an entire city.
Upon rounding the final bend before Barbatio's camp, I drew up my horse in astonishment. There before me lay not the small, temporary trading post and river docks I had been led to believe would be the site of the Roman encampment, but a veritable fortress city, constructed entirely of wood. For months Barbatio's army had been here, and the general had spared no effort or expense in securing the comfort and safety of his troops. Wharves extended far out into the river, braced sturdily on pillars of the same straight, heavy trunks I had seen dragged on sledges from the forests upstream; broad storehouses and depots were built directly on the piers, with others lining the riverbank for a hundred yards, all sided with sawed planks nailed on sturdy posts and beams; and the troops' barracks, hundreds of identical, flat-topped log huts neatly arrayed on carefully measured quadrants, each capable of sleeping eight or ten soldiers. The blocks of houses extended up the slope for a quarter mile, with the officers' quarters nearest the river somewhat larger and more luxuriously appointed. Surrounding the whole was a high palisade, the tips of the logs hewn to rough points, the walls fronted by a deep and broad ditch.