Gallia Invicta

Plancus nodded, his face sour.

“Most of my officers are still braid-haired Gauls, general. Only half of them understand me at all.”

Sabinus chuckled.

“I’d like one of the most senior to join us. It could be very useful having someone who speaks their tongue up here.”

Plancus saluted and wheeled his horse, riding the hundred yards or so to the head of the Fourteenth Legion, which was busy coming to full attention at the buccina call. As Sabinus and his officers watched the approaching parties, Plancus quickly returned, a centurion jogging along beside him. The general glanced down at the man, who stopped running and, without even a laboured breath, saluted and dropped into a formal posture.

“Centurion? I am given to understand you speak the dialect?”

“Better than Latin, sir.”

“Good.” He pointed at the approaching riders. “I would like you to listen carefully. So long as one of them speaks Latin, you shouldn’t need to be involved unless you hear something that makes interruption necessary. I would just like a trained ear on them.”

He smiled.

“Of course, if they don’t speak Latin at all, I may require a little translation.”

The centurion saluted again and Sabinus nodded with satisfaction. The man was clearly Gallic, from his stature and colouring and, while his flaxen hair had been trimmed down to fit well with a Roman helm, the bushy, drooping moustache clearly marked his origins.

Sabinus made a gesture to the approaching scouts and they rode off to one side to join the small cavalry detachment on the flank of the army.

The officers sat at the crest of the hill, tribunes from three legions forming up behind them, as they looked down the long slope toward the distant, messy sprawl of Crociatonum and the small party of almost a dozen riders approaching from that direction.

The general gave a last look round to his legions and the officers gathered behind him in their burnished glory. If anything spoke of the sheer power of Rome, it was this. Good. There was little else he could do until they knew what they were up against. He watched, alongside his silent officers, as the riders slowed to a halt and gathered in a small knot opposite them.

Sabinus had seen enough of these tribes over the last few years to immediately pick out the important characters. Rather than this being a deputation of chieftains from the various tribes, this was a strange and different gathering.

The man who took the centre and was clearly the leader of the party was a warrior of, at most, middling status. He bore the torcs and armour of a wealthy warrior, but not the jewels and decoration they had come to expect in chieftains and kings. The men around him were equally warriors rather than purely nobles, armed for brutality and not for parlay. The grey, brooding presence of a black-haired and bearded druid at the rear of the group gave further weight to this being anything but a peaceful party. Where were the chieftains and leaders?

Sabinus hid his bafflement, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

“I am speaking to the king of the Unelli, perhaps?”

The man on the lead horse folded his muscular, etched arms and his moustache twitched.

“You are Roman general, Caesar?”

Sabinus smiled mirthlessly.

“I am a Roman general, yes. Quintus Titurius Sabinus, commander of the Ninth, Twelfth and Fourteenth Legions. And you are?”

“I Viridovix. Leader of free Gaul.”

Sabinus drew a deep breath.

“A bold statement. The Unelli and their neighbours have been allies of Rome this past year. Yet now we are led to understand that you gather an army?”

Muttering in low voices among the Gauls increased at the question and, as Sabinus shot a sidelong glance to the centurion from the fourteenth to make sure he was paying attention, Viridovix turned his glare on the chattering men behind him, silencing them with a look. Sabinus nodded to himself. Whoever this man was, he had absolute authority here.

“Unelli chieftains weak… they grovel to southern apes. Warriors of Gaul not grovel, so we execute weak chieftains and form alliance as free Gaul.”

Sabinus nodded again.

“I see. You have pulled off a coup among your tribe. I hope for your sake that you can satisfy your people better than those who preceded you. A rise to power in such a fashion often acts as a spur for others to try the same. Your position could be more delicate than you imagine.”

Viridovix put his head on one side and the druid pushed forward through the crowd, leaning close enough to interpret for his leader. Sabinus was impressed at the deference the druid seemed to pay to this warrior. In two years of campaigning he had never seen a druid pay that sort of respect to any man.

Viridovix laughed.

“I not have time to mess words with general. I give this chance: go now. Run to Rome and hide behind big walls. You stay here, free Gauls will tear off heads and use as beer mug.”

Sabinus nodded.

“And I offer you one last ultimatum: disband this army, send the warriors back to their tribes, and this can end peacefully. I give my word that, should you offer no arms against us, we will continue to treat you as the allies you were.”

The Gaul sneered.

“One day. You gone when sun next up and you live.”

Without waiting for an answer, the powerful warrior wheeled his horse, followed by his companions, and rode back toward the city.

As soon as the figures were out of sight, Sabinus sagged.

“Looks like we’re in for a fair old fight, my friends.”

Galba nodded.

“Looks like my winter at Octodurus all over again. If they’ve overthrown their own leaders, they’re unlikely to stop just because of threats and cajoling.”

“Indeed. But the problem is that, for all my ultimatum, the outcome of any action here is hardly a foredrawn conclusion. At best we’re one man against three, but it could be a lot higher than that.”

Plancus cleared his throat.

“I despise even suggesting this, general, but might it not be a better idea to actually take him up on his offer and withdraw until we can field a larger, stronger army?”

Sabinus shook his head.

“The longer we leave this, the worse it could get. Remember the Belgae? We left them too long and they managed to gather half the northern world against us. We need to stop them now before their numbers double.”

Galba nodded with feeling.

“If word gets out that this ‘free Gaul’ has run off an army of three legions, we could see an uprising of the whole Gaulish people. The general’s right: we need to deal with it now.”

Sabinus realised that the centurion was standing at attention and almost vibrating with the need to interrupt.

“What did you hear?”

“Sir… they have no intention of giving us until tomorrow morning. They will come at night, once the sun has fallen.”

Sabinus sagged again.

“Oh hell. Anything else?”

“Yes sir. The army massed in Crociatonum is not just Unelli and Lexovii. There are many of Curiosolitae and also others. Refugees, bandits, rebels and many warriors of allied tribes unhappy at Rome.”