Druids (61 page)

Later we heard music coming from the Roman encampment. Caesar’s legions were celebrating their success with tympanum and cithara and horn.

My people were not singing.

I kept looking at the children.

At the council of war that night, the silence continued. No one accused Vercingetorix of having brought this upon us by pursuing Caesar and forcing battle with him. No one suggested we should have left well enough alone after Gergovia. Rix had done what Caesar would have done: pursued a beaten enemy to consolidate the defeat.

We should not have attempted to use the Roman’s pattern, I

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thought, sitting cross-legged on the earth and staring into the fire. But I did not say anything.

No one said anything. At last we all withdrew to spend a sleepless night wrapped in our cloaks.

Back in our tent, the Goban Saor asked me, “Are the princes angry with Vercingetorix, Ainvar?”

“No. They know he will pay the price for his ambition and his dream.”

“We shall all pay it.”

“We all shared the dream,” I reminded my companion. “We all thought we could remain free.”

One more day and one more battle remained. This time the relief force sent its best warriors to attack a Roman camp on a large hill north of Alesia, one so vast Caesar had not been able to include it in his protective circle. Two legions were encamped there; their loss would have been a serious blow to the Romans.

Vercingetorix once more led his men outside the walls to try to break out while the Romans were occupied with defending the hill and protecting their own line. By daylight we could see that they were spread thin. It looked as if we had a chance. By now, our allies would have had time to brace themselves for any Ger-man attack and would not be so badly surprised. We did not dare hope, but we began to hope.

The fighting became more intense than ever. Some of the Gauls had adopted the Roman device of holding linked shields over their heads, and under this cover they advanced upon the enemy. The air sang with a deadly horizontal rain of spears and javelins. Rix and his men attacked the inner circle with grim determination, realizing this was their last chance, their third attempt.

Three is a number of great power. Three is the number of fate.

Watching from the walls of Alesia, I did not realize I was holding my breath until I began to feel dizzy.

There was a shout as if some of our men might have broken through the Roman line. At the same moment I caught sight of a long figure in a vivid scariet cloak riding through the rain of missiles as if impervious to them, encouraging his Romans to greater efforts by his presence.

I turned my eyes from Caesar to search for Rix. At first I did not see him anywhere. Then a black horse bounded up out of a ditch with a leap that would have unseated most riders, and Gaius Caesar found himself face to face with Vercingetonx.

Both men must have been taken by surprise. They halted their horses not a spear’s throw from one another. I was so far away I

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could only identify them by scariet cloak and black horse, yet even at that distance I felt, for the second time, the impact of their personalities colliding.

1’ A battle of champions?” Hanesa murmured hopefully beside

me.

“No. Compared to our leader, the Roman is an old man. Vercingetorix would never fight him, it wouldn’t be honorable.”

“Does Caesar understand that, Ainvar? If he does, he must know what an advantage it gives him. He could attack Vercingetorix right now and win the war, because if the Gauls saw him killed, they would collapse.”

Hanesa was right, I realized, my scalp prickling with panic.

Menua had taught that magic should be undertaken only after the most careful deliberation, and in full awareness of the possible consequences. “Read the signs and portents first,” he had often told me. “Be certain of how you will affect the future before you act.”

But when I saw Rix with Caesar, my discipline deserted me.

Without pausing for thought, I laced my fingers m the strongest pattern of protection and began chanting the name of Vercingetorix. All the strength of my spirit went into the chant, leaping out, crossing the space between us, seeking to wrap safety like a net around my soul friend. As soon as he realized what I was doing, Hanesa joined in, adding his voice to mine.

Chanting in unison, we watched and waited, hardly daring to hope. The two commanders held their positions, pemaps talking. Then, abruptly, Caesar wheeled his horse around and cantered away, arrogantly turning his back on Vercingetorix.

Had my magic caused the Roman to stay his hand? I shall never know. Standing on the wall of Alesia that day, Hanesa and I wanted to believe we had just saved the life of Vercingetorix.

But if I had to do it again today, I would pray a very different prayer and use all my force to urge Caesar’s sword to cut my soul friend in half as he sat on his horse.

With the wisdom of bitter experience I acknowledge: How kind is the sacrificer’s gift!

The fighting intensified. The majority of the Gauls penned at Alesia had failed to break through; only a trickle had gone with Rix, Those who remained behind were turning their full attention on Caesar’s siege machinery, scaling the wooden towers from which missiles were being hurled into the fort and pulling the Romans off with their bare hands.

From the heights of Alesia we could clearly observe Caesar;

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his cloak was unmistakable. He had collected four fresh cohorts and a large body of cavalry and was circling around to attack our relief force from the rear.

We all screamed warnings, but at such a distance no one could have heard them. In fact, a great shout went up from both sides,

echoing from the walls of Alesia and all down the line of the Roman reinforcements, adding to the pandemonium. It was as if everyone knew that the critical time had come.

We watched helplessly as the Romans fell upon the Gauls, who were exhausted from having hurled themselves in wave after futile wave against the outer Roman fortifications. The Romans now threw their spears aside and attacked our men with swords, hew-ing and hacking. The earth was soaked with blood. She was given too much to drink and could not absorb it, so it stood in puddles and men slipped and fell to be bathed in gore.

When the men of the relief force tried to fall back, they found Caesar’s cavalry behind them, cutting off any hope of escape. The Gauls were rounded up and slaughtered like cattle, though to their credit they fought as cattle never fight, and it cost Caesar dear to kill them.

But the men had come a long way at great speed to try to save us, and they were tired, the majority of them unused to war. The Romans had done nothing more strenuous recently than build up their fortifications and yell derision over their ramparts at us. The long siege of Alesia had given them a chance to rest. They out-fought the Gauls, and we who watched could not help.

“We have lost,” said Hanesa beside me, in a voice as heavy and lusterless as lead. No rhetoric, no nourishes. Simply, “We have lost.”

I turned to look at him. Hunger had carved away his jolly, affable excess, leaving the flesh sagging on his bones as if he were wearing the skin of a much larger person. His high color had faded, his eyes were dull.

I knew I looked no better. Caesar had leached the life out of all of us.

Our vantage point was no vantage now, yet we remained on the walls in horrified fascination, seeing what we did not want to see. Out of all that great army that had come so valiantly to rescue us and keep Gaul free, only a few survived. The Romans were relentlessly pursuing those few. Some might find safety if they made it to camp. Some others might even get back to their tribes to tell of this day. But most were dead-Our last chance lay dead on the battle-scarred earth, in plain view of Alesia-DRUIDS 383

As twilight fell, I saw a scarlet cloak in the center of the battlefield, drawing my eye like a flame. From all sides his officers were converging on Caesar, bringing him the torn and bloody standards of the fallen Gaulish leaders.

Incredibly, Vercingetorix had survived. I looked down from the wall in time to see him, still on his black horse, ride in through the gates of the stronghold, bringing the surviving warriors back inside for the night.

There was nothing else to be done.

In the aftermath of defeat, men avoid each other’s eyes. Rix would need me as never before.

The access ladders were crammed with people going up and down, anxious to get to the top of the wall, then anxious to get back down again, people shouting, people cursing, people cry-ing. Ignoring the ladders, I flexed my knees and jumped.

The impact of landing jolted me so hard it took my breath away. As I waited for my legs to recover from the shock, I remembered the night I had gone over the wall at the Fort of the Grove to see the druids work great magic.

Everything circles, including time. Even the straight lines and precise columns of the Roman armies could not change that natural law.

I went to wait for Rix in his tent.

He came alone. Once he would have been surrounded by princes and followers praising him, seeking his ear. Now no one wanted to know him. Yet he was the same golden young giant who had been our champion.

Only his eyes looked a thousand years old.

I had wondered what I would say to him. “I jumped off the wall a little while ago,” my voice spoke up conversationally. “I was surprised to find I was still young enough to do it without breaking my neck.”

“Ainvar.”

“Yes.”

“Are we still young?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” He sat down heavily and began massaging his aching arms. Swinging a sword is exhausting work-1 noticed new wounds and fresh blood.

“Have you seen my wife, Ainvar?”

“She’s with the other women.”

“We have to get them out of here. the women and children.

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Caesar will be merciless. He’ll enslave the Mandubians, but he’ll probably kill anyone he thinks has a connection with me.”

k ‘Onuava isn’t afraid of dying.”

“I know. But she’s carrying a child of mine, Ainvar.”

“Oh.”

We sat silently for a time.

“I can get them out, I think,” I said at last. “I have a magic I’ve been saving.”

His voice was bitter. ‘ ‘All your druid magic could not win this war.”

“No, it could not. Nor did you want to win by magic, even if it were possible. But the gifts of the druids are meant to be used constructively wherever possible, Rix. Killing thousands of Ro-mans would be …”

He waved his hand wearily. “Must we have this conversation? I don’t want to discuss magic. I just want to know if you can get the women and children out.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised.

Vercingetorix sighed. “I did my best,” he said.

I ached for him. “I’ll need the Goban Saor and a couple of carpenters to build me a little framework on wheels tonight, Rix. And 1*11 need a couple of draft animals.”

“We’re a bit short on horses at the moment. And whatever happens to me, my black goes with me.”

“It doesn’t have to be your black stallion. Anything will do. A pair of asses, a pair of big dogs even.”

“We’ve eaten all of them.”

“Then we’ll use human draft animals. All P really need is a wheeled platform and something to pull it with.”

“Take the Goban Saor, then,” said Rix. “I have no further use for him.”

I could not leave him there, alone in the shadows, with his long legs stretched out and death in his face. “No one could have defeated Caesar, Rix,” I said gently. “You came closer than any-one else could.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?”

“No. I know there is no comfort. It is just… the truth. What are you going to do now?”

“Call a last council. Tonight, after people have rested a little. Will you stand beside me one final time, Ainvar of the Camutes? As my friend?”

I made a painful discovery. I was not only young enough to

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leap off a wall, I was still young enough to cry. I let him see the tears standing in my eyes.

I saw the tears in his.

While the Goban Saor built the device I had requested, I accompanied Rix to the final council of free Gaul.

Free Gaul. The words hung in the air like frost. Or perhaps they actually were frost; the siege of Alesia had seen the death of summer, and the first cold breath of autumn was blowing down upon us as we met in the Mandubian assembly house. The taste of a dead dream was flat on our tongues, the only food any of us had.

When Vercingetorix rose to address the surviving tribal leaders, the battered captains of his destroyed army, at first they did not respond. They stared at him as if he were a stranger. Then, as the meaning of his words sank into their dazed brains, their eyes began to glow with an agonized and despairing devotion.

For once we had not planned his speech m advance. The words were his own, spoken from his head and gut, and I listened to them with no more foreknowledge than anyone else.

Vercingetorix began by saying, “I did not undertake this war for my own personal advantage, but in hopes of maintaining the general freedom. If I had a selfish motive, it was that I wished to continue living as a free man among free men. But which man of you did not feel the same?

“When our freedom was threatened by invaders, I felt we had no choice but to fight. To that end I have spent my fortune, my followers, my strength, and would gladly have sacrificed my life.

‘ ‘Yet though I was in the forefront of every charge and the midst of every battle, I find myself still alive. And Caesar has won.” He sounded genuinely perplexed by both facts.

Drawing a deep breath, he went on. “Honor demands that I submit to the victor. But perhaps in so doing I can win some last concession for my people, some grain of mercy from that merciless man. I shall send a deputation to Caesar announcing my intention to surrender with no further struggle and no further loss of life on his side. Also, they will tell him, I am willing either to be slain here, by my own people, or to be handed over alive to him, whichever he prefers, if only he will grant safe conduct from Alesia for those who have served Gaul so long and so well.”