‘I know the name,’ said Varus, drumming his fingers on his saddle horn. ‘He was one of those they say was at Alesia with the relief forces. I’m starting to wish we’d pushed to stop them fleeing that hill, despite the state we were in. Every noble who got away had a small army with him and they all seem to be causing trouble now.’
‘That’s only half the problem, sir. The Cadurci’s leader is reputedly leading a second army to link up with him on the way.’
‘Luterius, yes?’
‘Lucterius, I believe, sir. He’s another that was with the relief at Alesia. I couldn’t get any solid estimates of numbers, but the Limonum prince seems to think that the two armies together will be strong enough to do serious damage to Narbonensis. Certainly since Lucius Caesar returned to Rome and the legions were reassigned, the Narbo garrison alone will not be strong enough to stop them.’
Varus nodded his agreement and heaved in cold breaths of night air. ‘There’s a legion on the way to protect that border, but it’s travelling slow with a convoy via Massilia and won’t arrive until long after any native army reaches the place. What can the tribes hope to achieve with such an act? They must know we’ll punish them for it.’
‘Could be a revenge attack?’ Caninius mused.
Fabius rubbed his hands together. ‘You’ve seen what’s happening: the whole land is still rippling with dissent. There are minor rebellions all over the place – more or less every tribe – but we’re not in any great danger as a whole, since they’re all so disorganised and separate. You know how bloody-minded these Gauls can be. They’re beaten and everyone knows it, but they’re fighting to the last drop of blood and if they can get some sort of symbol to rally round, we’ll be dealing with risings all summer and into the winter. Imagine the morale boost that would wash through the more rebellious hearts if they hear that Narbo and the Roman south has fallen to them. They will call it ‘reclaiming their ancestral lands’. Can you picture it?’
In the silence that followed, each of them did so, unhappy with what they were seeing.
‘There’s another danger,’ Varus said quietly. ‘Caesar will return to Rome next year for his consulship and the governance of this place will be granted to whoever the senate favours. Imagine what’ll happen if a bad governor gets the place, or just an ineffective one. Caesar’s army will have gone with him and it’d take time for a new commander to raise legions. If the tribes can just keep their spirit of rebellion burning until Caesar’s left, there’s a faint chance that the general’s successor will lose everything we’ve achieved these past seven years. We can’t let these two tribes ravage Narbo and raise new sparks all over the place.’
‘South, then,’ Varus sighed. ‘With little or no rest.’
Fabius and Caninius nodded and the latter turned to the newly-arrived tribune.
‘Time to turn round and ride back. Have the Fifteenth stop their advance and return to camp. They can get everything ready to march south, and press the Pictone prince we just saved for additional cavalry. Wait at Limonum for the Fifth and after a short break we’ll head on to deal with this southern army.’
The officer saluted and turned his horse.
‘And Tribune, see if you can find out anything else about this army, in particular their last known location. We don’t want to have to search everywhere between here and Narbo for them.’
‘Gods, but I could do with a snooze,’ Caninius sighed as he turned to Fabius. ‘I take it just the Fifth and Fifteenth will be heading south then? You’re bound still for the Carnutes?’
The legate nodded. ‘Can’t turn south and leave the Carnutes at our back. You know what’ll happen. I’ll deal with them, settle the Pictones and Andes, and then follow on.’ He turned to Varus. ‘Caninius will need you more than I.’
‘Very well. Two legions and a wing of cavalry. Hopefully it’ll be enough to beat Lucterius and Drapes. Good luck with the Carnutes. They’re a tricky bunch. They’ll be dug in and hidden all over the forests.’
‘Good luck in the south,’ Fabius countered. ‘Don’t let them cross the Roman border or we’ll all be knee deep in the shit. Best get going.’
The other two nodded their agreement. Roman lands were under threat, and this was no time to dither. ‘Get your men mobilized again, Caninius,’ Varus breathed. ‘We must move immediately.’
* * * * *
‘It’s another damned Alesia,’ Varus snarled, shading his eyes from the morning sunlight and gazing east bitterly.
It was horribly familiar – some two hundred miles southwest of that place of bloody slaughter, and yet a hauntingly recognisable echo of the site of Vercingetorix’s last battle. From Varus’ viewpoint on the high slope above the river, he could see every element of Alesia reflected in this place.
The river cut through a wide plain so reminiscent of the plain of mud and blood at Alesia. And just like that other place, two small rivers crept east, reaching out like arms around a high oppidum like an upturned boat, topped with a walled settlement and further protected by chalky cliffs that defied scaling for much of its perimeter. Just like Alesia, the scouts said that the eastern end was more of a gentle slope, but that side had been much more heavily fortified in times past. Nowhere was a simple proposition. Any attack on this place would be hell.
Caninius looked equally sour at the sight. The two legions had needed a day’s rest before they moved on south, and Varus had chafed at every hour in Limonum, fretting at the delay and knowing that each heartbeat they tarried, vengeful Gauls moved a heartbeat nearer to Narbo. But once they’d begun to move, he had to hand it to Caninius, they’d moved fast. The Fifth and Fifteenth had travelled light – expedite – taking only the faster wagons and leading them with strong, speedy horses rather than the usual oxen. The army had covered the hundred and forty miles to this place in three days and, while every man in the army now looked fit to drop and the baggage, speedy as it was, lay strung out over the last ten miles with the rest of the day to catch up, their impressive pace had seemingly wrong-footed the enemy, trapping them here.
The information they had received from the Pictone prince had placed the enemy army at the chief oppidum of the Lemovices, where the two armies were to combine. The Roman force had arrived at the place to discover that the combined forces of the Gallic rebels had moved on south the previous day. Helpful locals there had vouchsafed that the enemy was bound for the Cadurci fortress of Uxellodunon and, cresting the rise this morning, it appeared that the intelligence had been correct.
For Uxellodunon – and gods, but it was another Alesia – showed every sign of full military occupation. The walls, high above the rocky cliffs, were packed with men. Not just sparsely like the poor bastards Varus had seen in the risings early this year, but packed. And with them were standards of many shapes. The initial forays by the scouts to ascertain the precise lie of the land had come under missile attack from the walls and the strength of that scuffle showed that the enemy were not only numerous and belligerent, but were also well supplied. A tough proposition.
Varus found himself almost considering a drastic course of action. It would be easier to face the enemy under almost any other circumstance. If the army retreated ten miles or so, perhaps the Gauls would quit this place and move on Narbonensis. Then perhaps the Romans would catch them in open terrain and could make an easier job of it. But this place was only a hundred and fifty miles from Narbo itself, and a mere fifty or sixty from the border and the first peaceful Roman settlement. To let them go now was to place Roman civilians in grave danger. Besides, the enemy seemed to be quite comfortable here, so there was no guarantee they would move on quickly. After all, if they were desperate to press on south they could have done so ahead of the legions, even if only just. He brushed aside the unpleasant thought that the enemy were simply biding their time. Behind him the cavalry and legions were massing, awaiting their orders.