‘I presume this means that Caesar’s wagon train has arrived?’ Fronto hazarded. ‘I guessed someone important would be commanding it. Glad it’s a friend. And maybe, since you’re a friend’ you’ll be able to squeeze a little shipment of mine aboard the triremes you’re taking to Rome?’
Brutus shook his head. ‘Sorry, Marcus. I’ve been down into town with the wagons and talked to the man in the offices. Sounds to me like we’ll fit most of the cargo on board, but there’s not even enough room for my full load. I’m going to have to do a deal with the more reputable local captains. Or send the other wagons around the coast and down through Italia, though that will mean having to temporarily reassign a cohort or two from the Twelfth. It’s all a bit of a headache, to be honest.’
Fronto was pleased enough to see his friend that he ignored the irritation over the fact that his business would continue to stagnate for a week or more yet.
‘Well at least you’re here and safe,’ Fronto chuckled. ‘A target like your column must have been tempting for half the tribes of Gaul.’
Brutus nodded, scrubbing ruffled hair. ‘We almost fell foul of one attack, from the good and loyal Helvii of all people! But fortunately we were warned in time and the enemy retreated without an arrow loosed.’
Cavarinos stepped away from the wall now, rubbing his hands together.
‘Did you say the Helvii?’
‘Yes.’ Brutus narrowed his eyes at this strange Romanised Gaul who he didn’t recognise.
‘When was this?’
‘Three days ago now.’
‘That’s where they were, then,’ Cavarinos nodded to himself. ‘I wondered why Alba was almost empty. The Sons of Taranis must have been right behind them. Hopefully they got bogged down behind your column and delayed.’
Brutus frowned in confusion. ‘The who?’
‘A cult of killers. There are twelve of them, led by a disfigured man.’
Brutus’ brow furrowed further, and he turned and muttered something to the tribunes, who nodded their agreement.
‘A dozen, you say? This disfigured man… would he be wearing a mask?’
Cavarinos, coming vividly alert, stepped forward so forcefully that one of the tribunes dropped his hand to his sword hilt, but the Arvernian drew himself up in front of Brutus.
‘A cult mask? Gleaming glaze with a straight mouth and small horns?’
Brutus nodded. ‘He was a servant, they said, who’d been disfigured by the pox.’
‘He was disfigured by a cavalry sword at Alesia,’ Cavarinos said quietly, and turned to Fronto. ‘They’re here. They’re in Massilia now, and they had no trouble getting here. They had a Roman escort.’
Brutus looked across at Fronto.
‘Who are these people, then? These Sons of Taranis?’
‘Rebels, killers and lunatics,’ Fronto replied. Damn good job for you that you had the Twelfth around you, then. From what Cavarinos tells me, you’d probably be decorating a tree now if they’d found you on your own.’
Brutus’ frown deepened yet again as he turned to the Gaul.
‘Cavarinos? Of the Arverni?’
Cavarinos nodded.
‘I saw you at the surrender of Alesia. Fronto, you are keeping very odd company.’
‘Odd, but good. Brutus, do you know where those twelve will be now?’
The senior officer shook his head. ‘We parted ways at the city gate. They could be anywhere by now. Damn it. Something felt off about them all that way, but I just put it down to jumpiness, given what I was transporting. What are they doing here?’
Fronto opened his mouth to speak, but Cavarinos was there first. ‘Primarily trying to take ship, but while they’re in town I would be astonished if they don’t try and send Fronto here to meet his gods in person. And if you are, as you appear to be, Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus, Caesar’s cousin, then I would make very sure to keep a large guard of legionaries around you at all times. You will be every bit as tempting a target as Fronto.’
Brutus nodded. ‘The legion will be moving off towards Narbo when the ships depart, but after that we’ll have the marines to look after us. I think I’ll be safe. It’ll take a week to load the ships and prepare to sail, I reckon.’
‘I doubt the Sons of Taranis will stay in port that long,’ Cavarinos noted. ‘They will delay departure long enough to try and kill such valuable Roman officers, but their objective requires that they leave as early as possible, and they’ll want to get to Rome ahead of the convoy, as that will block up your port and draw a lot of gazes to incoming ships.’
Fronto crossed to stand in front of Brutus.
‘Alright, Decimus. You can’t take my cargo, but I tell you one thing. Once these bastards have run from Massilia, they’re heading for Rome, and I will follow them and put them down. So you’ll make space for me and mine on the ships or I will personally cripple enough of your men to make room.’
Brutus chortled. ‘Subtle as ever, Fronto. Alright. We’ll make sure to keep room for a few passengers. Just make sure you stay alive until we sail.’
Fronto smiled. ‘You stay safe with the Twelfth until we’re ready to leave, Decimus.’ He glanced across at Masgava. ‘In the meantime we need to secure the villa completely. No little shopping trips to the agora. No theatre visits or strolls along the coast path. Everyone stays in the villa under guard and everyone is armed. Even Catháin and the workmen. If a mouse farts in this place I want a man with a sword looking up its arse. Understood?’
As Masgava nodded his total agreement, Fronto turned to Cavarinos.
‘Meantime, you and I are going to spend a little time in the town and turn over a few rocks, see what crawls out.’
Chapter Fifteen
The Cadurci oppidum of Uxellodunon rose from the mist like some behemoth of ancient legend, its ‘upturned boat’ shape inky black against the dusk sky. The fog was chilly, though the evening was far from cold, with spring enfolding the land in its warm blanket. The evenings were warm and the gentle broiling of the land resulted in the huge carpet of mist that rose from the rivers and streams and irrigation channels that surrounded the oppidum.
The bulk of the Romans would be safely tucked away inside their tents, expecting no trouble, but Lucterius knew from long experience that despite such things the Roman sentries and pickets would be far from complacent. And the officer who had chased them to this site seemed to be shrewd enough. He had concentrated his forces in three locations where they could react to any move in force and could concentrate their supplies and organisation, each camp with a solid cavalry element to speedily deal with anything for which the infantry would be too slow. But they had also created a cordon around the place, with men on watch so close that they could speak to one another. A message from the Roman commander could circuit the oppidum in perhaps a quarter of an hour. Worse still, the man had had a wicker fence thrown up around the entire circumference, excepting where features of nature prevented it.
Then they had settled in to lay siege.
There had been arguments in Uxellodunon.
Drapes – damn the man for the only chief who was senior enough to vie for control – had blamed Lucterius for being too slow and getting them trapped here. It mattered not how many times Lucterius explained that he had intended to tarry here anyway, with or without the Romans. Drapes had urged for a breakout in force and to continue their journey south.
But it was too early. Molacos had been insistent that he would retrieve the great king and return him at the appointed place on the Roman border on the first day of the month of Qutios. Lucterius was no fool, though, and he knew to add a month to that, for Molacos was being proud and boastful as was right in such a great warrior. Lucterius had agreed to meet Molacos and the king with his new army on the eve of the festival of Lugnasa, which marked the start of the harvest season. Thus he had intended to come here, to his hometown, to train this new army and rest and prepare. Then, at the end of Qutios, they would begin to move south. They would meet Molacos and the great king at the edge of Roman lands and would then sweep down and destroy Narbo. He felt sure that the tribes in Narbonensis would rally to the cause of freedom if the local authorities and garrison were destroyed. And when those tribes – the Volcae, the Ruteni, the Tectosages and various others – joined the cause, it would almost certainly bring the taciturn and reluctant Aquitani tribes of the mountain country down to join in.