Marius' Mules VI: Caesar's Vow (40 page)

He was still musing on the matter, which did nothing to lighten his already subterranean mood, when they began up the slope towards the oppidum of the Eburones. The climb was long and slow, much like everything he’d experienced so far in Arduenna’s unpleasant forest. The relief he felt as they began to level out at the plateau was quickly demolished as he took in the welcoming committee.

The defences of Atuatuca were of the usual construction: stone-faced, with a lattice of timbers betrayed by the visible ends along the length of the wall, all packed with earth and backed with a bank. The gates were of timber, heavy and well-protected, set back slightly from the walls to provide a killing area. The gates, in this particular case, stood open.

And in that killing zone stood a nobleman with his entourage of half a dozen bodyguards, the usual druid with a sour expression and a beard you could lose a bear in, and several dozen warriors standing about armed to the teeth as though expecting trouble.

‘You are not welcome here.’

‘You don’t know who we are, yet,’ Fronto replied with low menace.

‘You are Roman. You may not be dressed like one, but you have the stench. And your pets from tribes who betray the Goddess are no more welcome than you.’

‘Believe it or not,’ Fronto said quietly, ‘that is not the coldest welcome I’ve yet had. We are not here to cause you any trouble. We seek only information.’

‘Ambiorix is not here,’ the man replied quickly. Too quickly, in Fronto’s opinion.

‘Then it’s lucky for you that we’re not seeking that pointless rat.’ A qualified truth, but a truth nonetheless. He was gratified to see the noble’s expression slip for a moment as he was clearly not expecting such an answer.

‘You will have nothing from us.’

‘Really?’ Fronto curved his mouth into the sort of smile people back away from. ‘You are Ambiorix’s men to the heart; I can tell. As such, I am leaning towards the belief that you will hold no love for the weasel-king Cativolcus? He did, after all, abandon Ambiorix after last year’s massacres.’

Again, the noble clearly had not been expecting this, and his face twisted in confusion. He turned to his companions and a quick, hushed conversation took place, along with a lot of animated waving of arms and slapping of fist on hand.

‘We owe Cativolcus for his part in the uprising,’ Fronto said as they argued. ‘Caesar intends to deal with Ambiorix by wiping the world clean of the stain of the Eburones and burning down every timber they ever built.’

The noble and his companions had fallen silent at this and were now peering with suspicion at Fronto again. ‘Rest assured that the little turd has his end coming to him soon enough, and Caesar will see to it. You can stand here and cast your spittle at seventy thousand armoured men as they pound your walls to dust and mate with, or murder, every living thing, but right now I seek the whereabouts of Cativolcus.’

He stretched. ‘I was led to believe that the old man was hiding from Caesar and Ambiorix both in this very oppidum.’ He watched the men’s faces and confirmed what he had initially thought. ‘But it is clear he is not here and never has been. But…’ he took a single step forward, ‘it is also clear to me, from your very expressions, that you
do
know of his location. Tell me where to find him and I may consider interceding with Caesar in the manner of your end. After all, there are worse things to experience than simple death, are there not?’

His threat had carried endless layers of potential agony and misery, and the nobleman had clearly spotted a number of them as he turned and had another quick, hurried and muttered conversation with his companions. Finally, he turned back.

‘Espaduno.’

Fronto frowned and turned to Samognatos, who nodded. ‘It is a town in the south of Eburone lands, almost in Segni lands. If Ambiorix has been in Segni territory, then the two kings are close.’

Fronto nodded. ‘Time to get ourselves to this
Espaduno
as fast as we can, then. Seems to me that that Segni warband we came across after we left your lands might not be the last we see.’

He turned back to the nobleman.

‘I offer you a piece of advice. Eschew your connections with Ambiorix, and when Caesar comes rapping on your gate, welcome him with open arms. Ambiorix is not the man to throw your support behind, this summer. And if you feel the need to hold to your vows with your king, make sure your walls are a sight higher and thicker than they are now. But most of all, do not pin all your hopes on that little shitbag Ambiorix, and don’t expect to ever see him at your gate again.’

The nobleman, clearly shaken by the whole exchange, simply watched in consternation as the Roman party turned and began the descent back to the valley below. As soon as they were out of both sight and hearing of the Eburones on the plateau, Masgava pulled ahead to walk beside Fronto.

‘Do you think they told us the truth?’

‘I do. The location’s too convenient. The old king hides himself at the very edge of his lands, close to the Segni, where Ambiorix was last thought to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them are already together. Certainly he’s not been to
this
place for a long time. I would say from what I saw of them that these locals are desperately hoping Ambiorix will hove into view with an army of Rome-hating Gauls and Germans before Caesar arrives.’

A thought occurred to him and he turned to view the column of men behind him, wondering who he could spare. The answer, obviously, was: no one. Numisius, however, still nursed his broken arm as he rode, and nights wrapped in his cloak were bothering him with the cold and damp.

‘Numisius? I have a task for you… and Biorix. Sorry about this, lads, but we need to get a message to Caesar. He’s somewhere up around the Rhenus delta stamping on the Menapii, but when he’s finished with them he’ll turn south, and the last thing we need is for him to then fix his attention on this area. Things could get very busy and dangerous round here if a number of legions start stomping towards us. Get to the general and tell him what we know and that we’re closing in on both kings at the Segni border. Tell him to give us more time. You can take two of the pack horses as spare mounts. Head along the Mosa until it meets the Rhenus and then along that until you find word of the army. Ride fast, and be careful. Once you’ve delivered the message, find Priscus and stay with him until we meet up again - you’ll never track us down if you come back south.’

Pausing, he retrieved a small, easily-portable wax tablet from his purse and carved a few hasty lines in the wax with the stylus from the same container. A simple note that took mere moments, and then he snapped it shut and passed it to Biorix.

‘This is for Priscus alone. I’ve no wax to seal it and no time, but if you open it and read it, rest assure, I will know.’

Biorix took the tablet and nodded, and the two legionaries, looking somewhat perturbed at their lot, saluted and dropped back to unrope two of the pack horses. The supplies were now seriously diminished, and so the beasts could easily be spared. The idea of more than one hundred and fifty miles of enemy territory with only hard rations and what they could forage was not enticing, and Fronto could hardly blame them for the mix of nerves and disappointment that showed on their faces. But Numisius was the man most expendable because of his arm, and Biorix was one of the men Fronto trusted most in the unit, and a Gaul by blood, so if any pair could get to Caesar, it was them.

He straightened in his saddle. ‘Whatever Ambiorix is up to, I believe Cativolcus is at this Espaduno waiting for him, close to Segni lands. Whether he’s changed his tune and is looking to throw in his lot with his brother king or has other ideas in mind, I think we have to hope that they have not yet met and we need to get there first if we can. What do you know of the territory between here and there, Samognatos?’

The scout’s brow furrowed slightly.

‘It is perhaps forty or fifty miles from here,’ he replied, deep in thought. ‘The first half of the journey at least will be easy, as we can follow the Mosa as far as Ludico. From there it will be more difficult as we climb and enter the deepest heart of the forest. Travel will be slow and, as well as wandering patrols of Eburones and possibly Segni, the region is notorious for banditry.’

‘Sounds delightful. We’d best get going then.’

* * * * *

‘How far is Espaduno now?’

Samognatos peered into the dense trees ahead, as though he might be able to see the place. Even had it been visible during clear daylight, it would not show itself through the thick foliage in the middle of the night, and the darkness was near absolute here. Were it not for the dancing flames of their fire, they would not be able to see even the men sleeping across the track.

To call this place a clearing would be to over-exaggerate its space. It was simply an area where the trees and undergrowth were less dense and tangling, with enough grassy area for the dozen men to light a fire and lie down. Perhaps some time in the distant past it had been a proper clearing, but trees had invaded the space and turned it into yet another part of the endless dark forest.

‘Perhaps seven more miles,’ the scout replied, warming his hands over the fire and reaching for the salted meat that had been heating in the flames for a while.

Fronto’s eyes played across the clearing nervously as they had every dozen heartbeats since they’d set up here for the night. Nine stones stood in the ‘clearing’. He’d counted them several times. They’d arrived in the inky purple late evening and hurried to make the fire before the last of the light disappeared altogether, the leafy canopy bringing down pitch darkness earlier than the sky intended.

Each stone seemed to be decorated with scenes or figures in that lumpy, misshapen Gallic form when he caught them out of the corner of his eye - especially in the flickering, dancing orange light - but close inspection showed the stones to be plain and unmarked, simply roughly-hewn and with lumps and pits. The whole arrangement made Fronto shudder. The stones looked as though they had been deliberately placed in an oval - an elongated circle reminiscent of a gladiatorial arena. His first thought had been that the place resembled a druidic nemeton, but Samognatos had been adamant that all the features were purely natural and there was nothing sacred about the place.

Fronto still suspected otherwise. An image of the huntress Goddess caught his attention on a granite surface, but had gone when he turned to look at it. He reached up to the figurine of Fortuna hanging around his neck and fondled her repeatedly.

‘We should have gone on through the night.’

Samognatos shook his head. ‘Better to get there in the light. We do not know what to expect, after all.’

Fronto nodded glumly. He’d still have preferred to camp almost anywhere else, but the scout had been right about this being the best position from a purely geographical point of view. The path sloped down both ahead and behind, to one side a deep gulley with a narrow stream provided adequate defence, and on the other side a steep slope upwards prevented easy access. Added to that the fact that it was the most open area, clear of undergrowth, that they’d seen for hours, and it was obviously the place to camp.

It still put the shits up Fronto.

His only consolation was Aurelius, who lay on his blankets close by, his eyes wide and staring as he continually scanned the area for… something. Every time they heard the squeak of a bat - which was remarkably often in this place - the big, tough legionary stiffened and his eyes rolled wildly. He seemed to be more of a nervous wreck than Fronto.

‘How are you intending to play it when we approach?’ Palmatus asked from nearby, where he gnawed on a meaty bone.

‘Diplomatically, I think. I’ve been pondering the problem. There are only thirteen of us now, and Espaduno being an Eburone oppidum and current home to one of their kings, I think we can assume a reasonable population. We’ll be outnumbered and they have every advantage.’

‘How can we be diplomatic, though? What can we offer?’

‘That depends on what they want. Is Cativolcus here to make a deal with Ambiorix, or for less amiable purposes. If it’s the former, we have nothing. If the latter, we can offer a helping hand. Either way, we have no standing orders against Cativolcus, and we can deal with him on a fair and straight level. I think we go in, hands up and honest, telling him that we’re after Ambiorix’s head but we have no interest in him, and might even be able to broker a deal between him and Caesar if it plays out right.’

‘Caesar may be concentrating on Ambiorix,’ Palmatus said, shaking his head, ‘but Cativolcus led his men in that same revolt. Caesar won’t countenance peace with him, and he’ll know that.’

‘Perhaps. But I think diplomacy and offering of aid is the way to go. We cannot take on a whole oppidum of the Eburones with thirteen men, after all.’

Palmatus nodded his agreement.

‘What is this place like?’ Fronto asked Samognatos.

The scout shrugged. ‘I have only visited once, and that was many years ago. Espaduno is not a fortress, but a sacred site. It lies in a valley in the deepest of Arduenna’s woods. Its defences are meagre, if I remember correctly - none of our people would ever attack such a sacred site in the heart of Arduenna’s realm, so defences are hardly necessary. There are sacred springs and more than one nemeton.’

‘Great,’ muttered Aurelius close by. ‘The bat-witch Goddess’ home, eh?’

Fronto shot him a warning look, though could only admit to sharing the man’s trepidation. Samognatos shook his head. ‘Arduenna lives everywhere in these forests. It is
all
her home, and you need not fear her. Our druids have interceded with her on your behalf. If you had not the goodwill of the Goddess, we would all have been dead long before this.’

‘Somehow that does not provide me with a deep, warm feeling of comfort, Samognatos.’

‘What was that?’ yelped Aurelius.

‘It was a bloody bat, man. Stop panicking at every squeak.’

‘That wasn’t a bat.’ The legionary threw off his cloak and reached for the sheathed sword lying nearby. ‘I’ve heard a million million bats this past few weeks. That’s
not
a bat.’