Molacos boggled. It was just as Cernunnos said. And if they joined in, they could take the column. Free the slaves! Retrieve the spoils. Fund and man the army…
He shook his head angrily. He was being tempted and distracted just as the Helvii had been. He could not afford to be side-tracked from his task, even for this. Vercingetorix was his goal, and the king was worth ten of these columns when it came to uniting the tribes.
‘It is too dangerous. Roman commanders are often clever beyond reason. There is a chance this column will fall to the Helvii, but you and I, Cernunnos, we know that there is more chance they will be broken by some unexpected Roman manoeuvre. We cannot afford to throw in our lot with these traitorous Roman pets.’
‘So what do we do, then?’ hulking Mogont asked.
‘We use the Helvii. It is not as though we sell out our own, since the Helvii are a Roman tribe now.’
‘You don’t mean…’
‘That is exactly what I mean.’ He straightened, turned and gestured for the other eleven to close around him. ‘Cloaks and masks off and stowed. We are loyal Allobroges now, serving Rome and living in their province. I will remain masked and cloaked at the back – my face is too recognisable and memorable. Cernunnos can lead and do the talking in my place. No moves against the Romans, and watch your tongues. If you speak their language make sure not to react poorly to anything they say.’
He turned to Cernunnos as, uncertain and unhappy, his men and women began to remove their god-cloaks and ritual masks. ‘You know what to do?’
The druid nodded. ‘I have plenty of experience in tricking the Romans and feeding them lies. As soon as we crest the hill, everyone make as much noise as you can as though trying to attract their attention. As we descend, stay a little back. Catubodua, you come out front with me and be my wife. The rest of you keep out of the way and look respectful.’
Without waiting for their comments or agreement, recognising the fact that the Helvian force across the river was almost ready to act, he kicked his horse and broke into a run, racing for the crest and the slope down into the valley. Molacos kept himself safely among the crowd behind as they joined him, dashing down the hill and making directly for the officers.
The group began to shout warnings, those who had no grasp of Latin whooping instead. The reaction from the Romans was immediate and Molacos congratulated himself – they were sharp and quick, these officers. The fight would have gone badly for the Helvii. Before the dozen riders were even closing on them, the officers were protected by a shieldwall of legionaries in three files with spears out in their standard anti-cavalry move. Archers appeared as if from nowhere, arrows nocked and strings pulled taut, and Remi riders were gathering in groups, just in case. The wagons rolled on behind them.
‘Tribune!’ shouted Cernunnos as they rode closer. ‘Tribune!’
It was a good guess. Legions usually had a legate or even a more senior officer with them, but even a cohort on the move would have a tribune with them, and so there would be at least one among the officers.
Cernunnos and Catubodua slowed, the former holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. One of the Romans gave a gesture and the shieldwall opened enough to let him step his horse forward. The twelve riders reined in, the ‘couple’ out front only ten paces from the Roman, the rest gathered in a group further back.
‘What is your business?’ asked the Roman. Molacos took in his youthful good looks, light and agile physique, sharp, clear eyes, but most of all, the red belt knotted across his cuirass, denoting his position as some sort of general.
‘Your column is in grave danger, sir. Helvii gather on the far slope in large numbers.’
Molacos watched with fascination as the Roman seemed to study the druid, his gaze digging deep into Cernunnos’ eyes. After a few heartbeats he straightened.
‘Tribune? Prefect? Halt the column and have the entire legion form up in strength on the eastern side of the convoy. Have the wagons begin to double up, every other one pulling alongside to tighten the line and give us manoeuvring room. Send word to the rear to bring up the reserves on the far side of the valley and have all the missile troops mount the wagons for extra range. Every sixth wagon contains a scorpion bolt thrower, so have them all loaded and manned ready too.’
An older officer looked at him as if he were mad. ‘Sir?’
‘Do it.’
‘The outriders have found nothing, sir. These Gauls could be lying… leading us into a trap.’
The general turned a hard look on him. ‘This man is speaking the truth. Follow my orders or by Juno I will find someone to replace you.’ As the tribune trotted off, the officer gestured to another rider – a Remi by the look of it.
‘Take three men and get a good look at these Helvii. Confirm what looks to be their intention and come straight back.’
As they moved off and the officer gestured for the shieldwall to disperse to their normal assigned place, he nodded to Cernunnos. ‘I must thank you for your timely intervention. I have, I confess, been expecting some sort of attack throughout the length of the Rhodanus valley, though I was beginning to feel safe now, in the shadow of Rome.’
‘Will you move against them?’
The officer shook his head. ‘If they come, we are now ready and we’ll fight them off. But I don’t think they will come. The Helvii have too much to lose. If they think we are ready for them they will call off their attack and disperse. I will give you nine coins to one that you have saved us a fight altogether today.’ He smiled. ‘Though I fear you will be in danger from reprisals. They may well be watching you speaking to me. Where are you bound?’
‘Massilia, sir,’ Cernunnos answered easily. ‘My wife and I have property there as well as back in Allobroge lands. I have a modest concern in the city trading in wine.’
The officer brightened. ‘How marvellous. You may be acquainted with a friend of mine. Fronto, the former legate of the Tenth also trades in wine in Massilia.’ The man chuckled and failed in his jollity to notice a moment of dark recognition in the druid’s eyes at the name. ‘For your safety you will, surely, allow my column to accompany you to the city? My name is Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus, pro-tem commander of the Twelfth Legion.’
Chapter Fourteen
Cavarinos felt his spirits sink as he looked ahead through the open gate of Alba. Like all the Romanised settlements of the Roman province, this city of the Helvii was something of an odd mix. Still boasting a traditional wall in the form of the old oppida, the interior had obviously been completely redesigned at some stage following the tribe’s inclusion within Rome’s ever increasing territory. The grid of streets was a standard Roman form Cavarinos had seen before on visits to Narbo and other large ‘Gallo-Roman’ towns. And the Helvii there were still wearing trousers as they had centuries ago, but more often than not with a Roman style tunic above. There were as many clean-shaven faces as moustached or bearded.