‘You dare call me a liar?’ snarled Cotus.
‘Oh I do, old man. I do. You see my uncle is the attendant priest who maintains that very sanctuary, and he states flatly that no such gathering took place. In fact, I have it on good authority that your supposed election took place over a mug of beer with three friends, as well as your brother. It may well have been his will that you follow him, but you flouted the laws and ignored all precedent in your haste. Moreover, since that was two days before your brother’s demise, even if you had been legitimately elected, that would have made you both magistrates at the same time, which, as I’m sure you’re aware, is against the law. One very reason we are here today. That is why the priests favour Convictolitanis.’
‘Is this true?’ asked Caesar with a sharp edge to his tone.
‘Watch and appreciate,’ Litavicus smiled as he took his seat once more. Around the square, nobles rose to their feet angrily, almost all shouting and demanding things. As Cavarinos listened, a number of views were espoused, but the overriding tide was clearly turned against Cotus. He tried not to smile as a Roman officer called for silence and the general spoke once more.
‘It becomes clear that there can be only one candidate for the magistracy of the Aedui. Convictolitanis was elected in a manner that follows your legal and ritual guidelines and, despite his youth, he is the rightful leader of the Aedui at this time. Since Cotus has ignored and twisted the laws to gain position, he cannot be accorded success. It is the rule of Rome that Convictolitanis be appointed sole and legal magistrate of the tribe.’
Cavarinos allowed a shuddering breath to leak from him as he contemplated how close they had come this day to the rebel force losing all influence with the Aedui. Instead, because of a little wicked politicking, Caesar had been manoeuvred into choosing the one man to lead the tribe who would love nothing more than to tear their bonds with Rome asunder. After all the work Vercingetorix had put into the matter, Rome had finally tipped the scales for him and beautifully, cunningly, wonderfully, remained completely ignorant of that fact.
He was smiling happily to himself over the next half an hour as Caesar made further arrangements with Convictolitanis, ordering Cotus to stand down with no further ills befalling him and demanding that the Aedui heal this division and put aside their differences under their one new leader. He barely cared when Caesar asked the Aedui to prepare for war against the rebel forces. He almost laughed aloud when Caesar demanded all the Aedui cavalry and infantry move out to take part in his campaign, manning the Roman strongholds, cities and supply depots, controlling his provisions that he himself might be free to concentrate on the business of conducting the war. But his brow creased at the mention of the next target of that war. Gergovia?
By the time the assembled nobles were dispersing to the accommodation that had been assigned to them in Decetio for the night, leaving only the two Aeduan leaders with the Roman officers, Cavarinos was stripping his goods from his tired horse at the rear of the complex. His steed would still be weary from his earlier ride, and the news that the Arverni capital was to be Caesar’s next target was something that had to reach Vercingetorix’s ear as fast as a man could ride, if he was to save Gergovia.
* * * * *
Fronto watched the crowd disperse and performed a sudden double-take. As his suspicious gaze played once more across the gathered Aedui, he failed to see the man a second time. He couldn’t swear to it, for the man had looked different somehow, but at a push, he’d have been willing to put forward the view that a certain Arverni chieftain who seemed to crop up in the most unusual of places had been among that gathering somehow.
As the warriors and nobles made their way out through the gate and into the city, he watched intently until the last man had gone, but still caught no further sight of the ghost that might have been Cavarinos of the Arverni.
Antonius made him jump with a slap on the back.
‘Nice job here, eh Marcus? Now for a night of rest and then on to victory.’
Fronto stared out of the gate at the dispersing mob.
‘I suspect we did not just make the deal Caesar thinks we did.’
Chapter 11
Close to Gorgobina, five miles east of the Elaver River
Cicero and Plancus shared a look. Though their families were both old names and old money in Rome and they would likely attend the same social functions and vie for political offices back home, out here in Gaul they were as different as two men could be. Cicero was cavalier and cocksure in his decisions — especially when the fault might land with his underlings, some said. Plancus was still learning the military ropes despite his years of command, and remained nervous and defensive in his stratagems.
‘I cannot help but feel that this is a dangerous enterprise,’ Cicero said quietly.
‘I am rather glad to hear you say that,’ replied Plancus. ‘Generally I don’t open my mouth in staff meetings because often someone shoves my foot in it, but marching on the Arverni home city? It is not a good idea. I had a white goat sacrificed by an augur and the portents…’
He shuddered by way of explanation, and Cicero nodded.
‘But you’ve known the general now for six years. Do you see him changing his mind?’
‘No,’ Plancus replied. ‘But strangely, despite everything, I see him being successful. When is Caesar not successful, after all, regardless of the odds? We hitched our personal wagons to the greatest horse in this race, my friend.’
The two officers fell silent and watched as the Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh and Thirteenth legions crunched down the hillside to join the Eighth and Fourteenth on the plain. Caesar rode on ahead, typically, in cold, steely glory with a white charger, a red cloak and Ingenuus’ cavalry surrounding him.
‘Will the wagons be alright?’ Plancus hazarded, picturing the wrathful side of Caesar they had all seen when his subordinates made decisions with which he disagreed. The two officers had received word of Caesar’s approach two hours previously and had immediately set the baggage train off back to the bridge across the Elaver under armed escort to save time.
‘Let’s hope so. Fabius and half his legion were with them.’
The two men sat and waited as Caesar and his staff closed on them. The general looked self-satisfied, which boded well for the results of the Aeduan matter at least. As Caesar reined in and nodded to the two legates awaiting him, the four legions continued to descend the slope and fall in alongside the other two.
‘Your force seems diminished,’ Caesar noted archly by way of greeting.
Plancus opened his mouth to explain, but Cicero was already speaking. ‘Five cohorts have accompanied the baggage to the Elaver this morning, general. Given the time it takes to move the wagons across the bridge we decided that saving a few extra hours would be of use.’
Caesar frowned. ‘My map of the region shows a sizeable ford some eight or nine miles upstream. I had planned to take the baggage across there, along with the legions, for speed.’
Plancus cleared his throat noisily, his throat-apple bobbing like a man in a heavy swell of sea.
‘Respectfully, general, the natives inform us that from early spring until late autumn the Elaver is too deep and fast to be forded. Run-off from the mountain thaws, sir. Bridges are the only option.’
The general nodded his understanding, though his frown remained. ‘This will slow us down. Irritating. I had hoped to be well on the road to Gergovia by sundown, leaving the escorted baggage to follow on behind. Oh well. Needs must. Good work, gentlemen. Now let us take the legions to the bridge and cross.’
* * * * *