‘How long has it been?’ Vergasillaunus asked, his voice dark.
Lucterius sagged, his eyelids heavy, the dirt of his journey still caking him, along with the sweat of flight and the gore of battle. He sighed. ‘Two and a half days. We would have been quicker, but our horses were spent. Only stealing replacement mounts from farms that we passed got us here this fast.’
‘We know that it takes legions time to move along with their siege engines, and they will have matters to conclude in Novioduno first. Perhaps they have not moved yet?’ Vergasillaunus hazarded, though his expression confirmed that he did not truly believe his own words.
Vercingetorix shook his head. ‘Caesar has moved speedily and decisively at every turn. Far more so than we had ever believed possible. He will not have delayed at Novioduno. In fact, with more than two days gone, there is every chance that he is already at Avaricon.’ He turned an inscrutable gaze on Lucterius. ‘What say you?’
‘The man is always ahead. You can be assured that if we ride for Avaricon he will be there awaiting us. He certainly will not tarry while he believes we are close.’
‘I agree. So we have decisions to make.’
The nobles and chieftains of the allied tribes and the three druids present leaned closer to the communal fire, hanging on their commander’s words. No one would dare put forward a suggestion before he spoke further.
‘The Romans have the grain they took from Vellaunoduno. Be sure that they supplied their men from the ruins of Cenabum also. Now they have taken Novioduno, and any supplies there have been added to the Roman wagon train. Their main supply station is in the north at Agedincum. We have severed their supply lines to their own lands, but Caesar outmanoeuvres us by resupplying in the field through forage and captured goods. We had hoped to meet him at Avaricon with our full force and defeat him there, but he moves too fast and is too well supplied. If we hope to defeat him in open battle, our best hope to weaken him first is to deny him food.’
There were nods all round at this piece of clear wisdom. That Rome was made strong by their own grain, which had been meant for this army, rankled, and every man here begrudged them that.
‘We must begin a campaign of refusal. Wherever Caesar turns he must find nothing of use. No crops. No livestock. No grain stores. Nothing.’
‘How do we go about gathering it all and transporting it?’ asked one of the lesser chiefs curiously. ‘That could take months, by which time there will be a fresh harvest waiting.’
‘We do not gather it. Our stores are secure and we will continue to draw extra food into our powerful fortresses, such as Gergovia and Gondole, Corenduno and Carenedia. We continue to work on the Aedui. Now that Caesar crushes the Bituriges, we may be able to use that to tip the scales with the Aedui leaders. Anywhere else that is endangered and could be of use to Caesar must be destroyed.’
‘What?’ another of the chiefs yelped, his eyes wide. ‘You would destroy our own settlements?’
‘Yes I would. And I will. Better to watch our own homes burn than to allow the Romans a night’s rest within them. From this point on, I will assign cavalry units the task of clearing out the land ahead of Caesar’s army, burning settlements, crops and farms and even the livestock. The Romans shall find no succour wherever they go. Thus, by the time we have reduced Gorgobina and the Aedui are with us, Caesar’s army will be poorly-provisioned and weak. Ripe for the picking.’
‘But you cannot mean to fire our homes?’ asked another incredulous chief — one of the Bituriges from a minor town to the west, Vercingetorix seemed to remember.
‘That is exactly what we must do. No house must be saved. We must all sacrifice of our personal property to deny Rome what they need to succeed.’
‘That’s fine for you to say,’ snapped another of the Bituriges. ‘Your home is Gergovia, way to the south, out of harm’s way. You are not required to sacrifice of your own, just of ours!’
‘Rest assured that should Caesar march south, I will burn Gergovia as readily as I would burn any other place that might be made to work for Rome. And the more Rome starves, the more Caesar will be forced to send out parties over great distances to search for provisions. These overextensions will be at clear risk of raids, and those same cavalry units who are abroad, burning anything of use, can use their best judgement to deal with any forage parties they come across. We will erode the edges of Caesar’s army and leave the centre to starve, and then, in time, when we are stronger, we will move upon him and crush him utterly.’
‘And what of Avaricon?’
Vercingetorix glanced across at his cousin, who had filled the uncomfortable silence. Vergasillaunus was scratching his chin thoughtfully.
‘Avaricon is out of our reach for now. We must hope that it holds without us and that if it falls our best and brightest manage to escape alive, including Critognatos and Cavarinos.’
‘You said that Avaricon was unassailable? That it could hold almost indefinitely, and that once we were finished here, we would move to aid them. So what is it to be?’
‘Burn it,’ murmured Lucterius, and all eyes turned to him. He took a deep breath. ‘Send word to your men inside. Tell them to hold for as long as they can and then torch the place if it falls, so that Rome cannot use it.’
A dozen lesser chieftains of the Bituriges stood, yelling.
‘You can’t burn Avaricon!’
‘Our capital must be saved!’
‘We will not allow this!’
Vercingetorix waited for the commotion to die down and cut through the noise with an even tone. ‘I will not give the order to fire the city, unless it becomes a matter of vital importance.’ He stretched. ‘Instead, we will send a further garrison to help bolster it. Perhaps we can keep Caesar so concerned with Avaricon that he starves before its walls and long enough for us to enlist the recalcitrant Aedui and bring them in.’
‘No.’
All eyes now turned on the speaker, one of the angry Bituriges.
‘What?’
‘No. Avaricon is critical. You will not sacrifice our capital to keep Rome busy while you inveigle your way into the cursed Aedui’s good graces.’
There were murmurs of agreement among the assembled Bituriges.
‘We only joined your damned revolution because you showed yourself to be stronger than the Aedui, and you claimed to have the good of all the tribes at heart. Prove it!’
Vercingetorix sighed. ‘What would you have me do? Abandon Gorgobina after all this time? Abandon our pursuit of the Aedui?’
‘Yes.’
Vergasillaunus frowned at this new voice that had joined, for he was not one of the Bituriges.
‘What say you, Argicios of the Carnutes?’
‘Our people are crushed. Cenabum lies in ruins because of our alliance with you. No mention has been made of any consideration for our plight, despite the fact that we began this war for you, struck the first blow in defiance of Rome. And we still stand by our oath to you, as do our Senone brothers, who have watched their towns ravaged while their greatest city has played host to the Romans all winter. But no more will we follow blindly. We must stand by our brothers. If we are to be an army of all the tribes, we cannot be expected to sacrifice that which makes us what we are. If you continue your endless siege here and your fruitless pursuit of the Aedui, while allowing your loyal allies to languish under the Roman heel, we will consider our oath as void and return to our own lands to proceed however we can.’
Vercingetorix, his expression cold and hard, eyed those present. A dangerous number of the army’s leaders were now on their feet in support of the Bituriges.
His cousin waved an angry hand. ‘You are speaking to your king! He leads us and he has spoken! You need all…’
He fell silent as Vercingetorix stood, his imposing presence in the dancing firelight silencing the entire crowd.