Porcius made to respond, but Valens interrupted him in an amiable tone. “Forgive us, Gaius. We should not be cross-examining you on the eve of such a momentous campaign. I think I speak for Porcius, and the entire Senate, when I say that our hearts are with you and your legions. We are certain that you keep the casualties as low as is possible, given the circumstances.”
“And might I also extend my thanks to you both, and to your fellow senators for the unfaltering support, both moral and tangible that you provide to this army.”
Both men were lying through their teeth, and both knew it. Valens did not believe anything written in Caesar’s reports, not one word if it, and was scheming for Caesar’s removal. Conversely, Caesar did not feel that Rome ever sent him enough of what he asked for.
But that was the way of Roman politics.
The young officer entered the tent again, and saluted. “One of the riders seeks an audience with you Caesar. It is Divitiacus of the Aeduan.”
“Divitiacus?” Caesar said curiously to no one in particular. “Certainly. Let him come.”
Within moments, the stocky Aeduan chieftain stepped into the tent, bringing with him the aroma of horse manure. His long mail armor and breeches were covered in mud. Even his helmet was mud-splattered from what had obviously been a hard and desperate ride.
“How good to see you again, my friend,” Caesar rose and embraced him.
“It is good to see you, great Caesar.”
“Allow me to introduce my two guests, up from Rome. These are Senators Valens and Porcius – two of our most ardent supporters.”
“My lords,” Divitiacus nodded briefly to the two, but then turned a grim face back to Caesar.
“What is it, old friend?” Caesar asked, seeing that there was something wrong. “Were you with the cohorts from the Seventh? Why is the tribune not here?”
“I am sorry to say, that the tribune is in a bad condition. My men and I brought him here as fast as we could.”
Caesar’s face drew grave. “And the cohorts?”
“They march two hours behind us, under the command of the chief centurion. They are safe. We encountered the Nervii, but suffered only a few casualties.”
“And the Belgic tribes? What of them?”
“They are massing, Caesar. The Nervii, the Viromandui, the Atrebates, and there may be more.”
Caesar considered for a moment, and then turned to his guests. “Gentlemen, I sincerely apologize for bringing our dinner to an abrupt end, but I must confer with Divitiacus for some time. It is very necessary. I am sorry.”
The others rose to leave, but Valens remained. “I would like to hear more about what happened to my nephew, Gaius, if you can spare a few moments of Divitiacus’s time.”
“Of course, Valens, I was not thinking clearly. You must be beside yourself with worry.” Caesar then said to Labienus. “See to it that the tribune Piso is taken to the Senator’s tent, will you? The infirmary is no place for such a noble young man, and I’m sure the Senator will want his own people to care for him.”
Labienus nodded and left. Porcius rose and took his leave as well, leaving only Caesar, Valens, and Divitiacus.
“You are his uncle, sir?” Divitiacus said to Valens with some alarm.
“Yes.”
The Aeduan chieftain nodded curtly. “Then I am sorry to inform you, senator, that your nephew is in a deplorable condition. He suffers great pain, and probably will not outlive the night.”
“Was he wounded in battle?”
“He was mauled by dogs, sir.” Divitiacus hesitated, then added, “I was not there when the engagement started, but it is my understanding that it happened prior to the battle.”
“How? I want to know everything.”
The Aeduan chieftain cut his eyes to Caesar and then back to the Senator.
“It is alright, Divitiacus,” Valens said. “You may speak freely. I trust my friend Gaius will keep this between the three of us.”
Divitiacus cleared his throat and then said, “I was told the young gentlemen, Piso and Amelius, took the two squads off hunting for… carnal pleasures.”
Valens face turned red with either anger or embarrassment, but Caesar perked up, suddenly interested.
“I’m sorry, did you say just two squads, Divitiacus?” Caesar asked.
“Yes.”
“Against how many Nervii?”
“We counted sixty-two of their dead, Caesar.”
“This is just the kind of thing we need!” Caesar slapped his fist into his hand. “Just the kind of thing to raise the spirits of our weary legions.”
“The troop, as a whole, suffered great loss before my men arrived, Caesar. I am not sure that praise is in order -“
“It was a victory, Divitiacus, and our legionaries were involved. That is all anyone need know. I know it goes against the grain of most old warriors like yourself, but you can’t decorate a man for sacking a village, and sadly that’s all our legionaries have done since entering the Belgic lands. Their only real action, if you could call it that, was a little skirmish at the crossing of the Axona, and only the auxiliaries were involved there. No legions were present. Now, we have a victory to inspire the legions for the final chapter of our campaign.” Caesar then seemed to remember that Valens was there, and added sympathetically, “We shall decorate Piso, of course, as the senior officer present. That is only right. Unfortunately, that will do no good for the common soldiers. They will dismiss it as hyped-up favoritism. A pity you didn’t arrive earlier, Divitiacus, that we might have an independent account of the battle and could single out one or two legionaries for distinction – someone the rest could look to as an example, something to stimulate them, to put a bit of zeal in their step.” Caesar sighed. “Perhaps we can decorate the centurions, assuming there were any present. We need to decorate someone.”
As Divitiacus half-listened to Caesar’s rambling, he found himself studying Valens’s face. Upon hearing how his nephew met with his injuries, the senator had assumed a distant look, not so much one of concern as one of calculation – as if he were considering his next move in a game of latrunculi. Divitiacus had a hunch, and he thought he might play the game to see where it took him.
“Begging your pardon, Caesar,” Divitiacus said, “but there is something else I would like to report.”
“Of course, my friend. What is it?”
“There was a legionary in the skirmish, a certain Lucius Domitius,” Divitiacus glanced at Valens and saw the expected response in the Senator’s eyes.
“Go on,” Caesar said, already distracted by another report. “What of Lucius, uh, Lucius…I’m sorry, what did you say his name was?”
“Lucius Domitius, Caesar.”
“What of Lucius Domitius?”
“He performed valiantly, Caesar. If you’re looking for a man to set apart, he might be just the one. I have been in many battles, and faced many warriors, and I have never seen the likes of him. Just before my men and I rode into the fray, I saw the centurion of the troop, surrounded and besought by Nervii spearmen. I thought for sure it was all over for him. Then, lo and behold, Lucius Domitius appears out of nowhere, sword swinging and jabbing faster than the eye could follow. He hacks his way through the spearmen, gutting one after another, until he’s back to back with the centurion, fighting the rest of them off. Must have killed a dozen with his own sword, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen the like.”
Caesar looked up from the paper, “Now, that is appealing, indeed! Did this really happen, Divitiacus, just as you say it did?”
“I would swear to it, Caesar, as would any of my men. We all saw it.”
”And this Lucius…Lucius…”
“Lucius Domitius,” Divitiacus corrected.
“- this Lucius Domitius,” Caesar continued with an appreciative nod, “might be the one to serve my purpose. Did he survive? Was he wounded?”