The local chief looked distinctly uncomfortable as he surveyed the scene before them, and who could blame him. He had not quibbled at the huge army that had arrived on his doorstep and asked that they be given space and food until further notice, warned that the might of Rome would be on his doorstep in a matter of hours. He had not complained at all. But the private silent panic supposedly locked in the darkness of his mind emanated from him like a carnyx call to retreat. Cavarinos could not help but sympathise with the man.
Below them, on the wide plain bisected by a narrow and shallow river, that Roman might was assembling, having appeared on the scene mere hours behind their quarry. Their baggage was yet to arrive, Caesar having clearly considered the wagons safe with the enemy in front of them, and the army had pushed on, harrying the rearmost of the tribes as they ran for the safety of this high mountain.
Legions were moving even now around Alesia’s bulk, heading for the heights of the other hills that surrounded it, where they could watch for every movement and maintain a siege if required.
‘They are sealing us in well,’ Cavarinos noted.
‘They might think so. They do not anticipate our reinforcements, I believe.’
‘We need to learn from the Romans,’ Cavarinos mused, tapping his chin. ‘They like their boundaries. They work by them. If our army is largely encamped at the eastern extremity beneath the walls, they are in danger. The Romans will consider them exposed. All we need do is build a stone wall like the one we had below Gergovia, and maybe a ditch, and the Romans won’t even think of attacking. And it’s a much shorter rampart to build than the last one was.’
The king nodded slowly. ‘Agreed. See to it, Cavarinos.’ He turned with a genuinely warm smile. ‘I value your perceptive observations on the enemy. I am pleased you returned to us safe.’
‘So am I. What do we do about the reinforcements?’
‘Ah, that.’
‘Yes.’
The king reached up and stroked his moustaches, watching the legions moving like some sort of machine down below. ‘They will attempt to seal us in completely. That is their modus operandi. They did so at Vellaunoduno and with the aid of the swamps at Avaricon much the same. They did not try at Gergovia — I believe because the sheer scale of the place put them off — and there they failed, so they will not make that mistake again. Watch for them constructing some sort of circuit.’
Cavarinos frowned. ‘Are you sure?’ He looked around at the landscape he could see in the golden light of the sinking sun. ‘That would have to be an enormous rampart… many miles long.’
‘Caesar has both the men and the patience. It will happen. If we are to do anything, it must be done before those defences go up. It must be done before the dawn.’
Cavarinos sighed. ‘What do you wish of me?’ Subterfuge and distant missions seemed to be his lot in life this year. Somewhere deep in his soul, though — where he would not admit to its existence — a small part of him cheered that he would not be forced to face Fronto in battle. The king’s words ripped that away in a heartbeat.
‘Nothing, my friend. Your place is here with us. You are a constant source of wise recommendations, and the way this war currently wavers I value that input.’ He looked across at the fourth member of their group. ‘Lucterius?’
The Cadurci chieftain turned, currently enjoying a satisfying moment in the late sun. His year had started with numerous failures, but his brave and dangerous cavalry action at Gergovia had finally restored his reputation. Indeed, of the dreadful cavalry attack on Caesar’s army yesterday, only Lucterius had managed to pull together a unit of survivors and get them across the river and back to the army. The rest of the survivors had fled in braces and rare dozens and had filtered back to camp over the following hours.
‘My king?’
Vercingetorix smiled at him. The Arvernian leader was not the king of the Cadurci, of course, but the honorific was heartfelt and he knew it. ‘Only you and the cavalry stand a chance of getting past the assembled legions fast enough to move to free ground and escape their clutches.’
‘You would ask me to leave, my king?’
‘For the good of the army, to seek aid’ Vercingetorix explained. Cavarinos nodded sagely, as aware as the others of the unspoken bonus there: that the loss of so many human and equine mouths in Alesia would ease the food issues somewhat.
‘You will need every good warrior here,’ Lucterius argued. ‘My place is at your side. Send someone else.’
The king shook his head. ‘No. It must be someone in whom I have the utmost trust, and who I know is bright enough and brave enough to get past the Romans and stay free. Take the surviving cavalry — both yours and those other tribes who remain — out of Alesia during the hours of darkness.’
‘And if we break past the Romans, what do you require of me?’ Lucterius asked, sagging slightly.
‘Before you leave, I want you to visit each of the chieftains, kings or higher nobles leading the forces of this army and acquire a seal or other token that confirms that you speak for them. Once you have those, take the horsemen and ride for Bibracte with all haste. With Roman armies in the field and the future of the tribes still at risk, I feel certain that the assembly of chieftains will still be present there. Speak to the assembly and press for war on the grandest scale. Do not hold back. Make certain they are clear on what is required to win this fight and on what is at stake here. We can win now, but only if the tribes decide to fight Rome as a nation. It is time to put aside tribal politics and devote all our power to destroying Caesar.’
The Cadurci leader frowned. ‘Do you think the chiefs here will agree to me speaking for them?’
‘You are respected, Lucterius. And each of those chiefs is now trapped here with us. They know first-hand what is at stake.’
Lucterius nodded and Vercingetorix peered down at the manoeuvring Romans again.
‘Every man who can fight.’
‘Sorry?’
‘We need every man old enough to carry a blade without the tip dropping. We want horse. We want swordsmen. We want archers. We want spear-bearers. Even the greybeards. Every man the tribes can provide. And if they do this, I will give them victory over Rome. If they do not, then we cannot fight our way out of Alesia and more than eighty thousand chosen men of the tribes will be sacrificed on Caesar’s altar.’
‘It will take time to gather the men of whom you speak.’
The Arvernian king nodded. ‘Even though the Mandubii are still in residence, with no cavalry to maintain we have grain for perhaps thirty days. If we agree to suffer hardship, that can be dragged out. Be quick, though, and urge the assembly to be quick.’
Lucterius nodded, his face serious. ‘I will bring you your army, my king.’
The Cadurci chieftain turned and strode off into the oppidum proper, hunting those leaders whose tokens he would need to convince their countrymen, and the king turned to the other two with him. ‘Thank you for your understanding and your hospitality, my friend,’ he addressed the Mandubian chieftain. ‘I would ask that you and my esteemed commander here,’ a gesture made to Cavarinos, ‘divide up the cattle and grain stored in Alesia and distribute it as fairly as possible between the tribes encamped here and the Mandubii population. Cavarinos is a good man. He will not attempt to feed our army at the expense of your people. But if we are to win here and to free our land of the nailed Roman boot, we must pull together as far as possible.’
Almost as an afterthought, he frowned and addressed the local before the two left. ‘I believe we have near two thousand Mandubii among our forces. I would ask that you follow the plan I have set for all the tribes. Any man old enough to lift a sword and young enough to still run would be valued among our army.’