Galba smiled to himself. Sabinus was starting to sound distinctly like Caesar.
“The leaders of this insurrection, including Viridovix and the top hundred noblemen of your tribes will submit to Roman justice and suffer the appropriate punishments for what they have done. I am willing to accept that blame can be largely apportioned among the instigators and, for that reason, should you deliver those hundred and one men before me, here and now, I will allow the tribes to dissipate and return to their lands peaceably, once they have renewed their oaths to Rome.”
Galba noted the murmur once more increase as the truth of the situation imposed itself on the rebel Gauls. A few yards in front of the Twelfth’s legate, a tall warrior, with a grey, braided beard, decorative bronze helm, and torc around his neck, bellowed something defiantly, raising his sword in the air as if to rouse his men against the general.
Galba watched with interest as three of the low-born warriors around him grasped his wrists, threw an arm around his neck and dragged him to the ground, out of sight, where his grisly end was audible only as sounds akin to those that issue from a butcher’s shop. The Gaulish rebels had had enough and their leaders’ failure would be punished even without Sabinus’ call.
Here and there among the crowd, noblemen who had led the insurrection, or who were merely unlucky enough to be among Sabinus’ top hundred men, were grabbed and held by their own warriors before being pushed roughly out to the front of the mass, their weapons jerked from their hands as they fell to their knees.
Galba tried to see through the crowd, or across the narrow gap that lay between the two disengaged armies, but Sabinus was out of sight somewhere to the right.
“Good” the general called. “Keep them coming, and send me Viridovix so that we can conclude our business.”
An oppressive silence fell over the assembled armies.
“
Galba entered the tent of the general, his cloak flapping in the gentle breeze, Cantorix of the Fourteenth at his heel. The other officers were already assembled and Sabinus looked up, his face dark.
“Well?”
Galba shrugged.
“Complete search, sir. Those of us who met him, centurion Cantorix particularly, and several of the more cooperative locals. We went through the enemy to the last man. Viridovix is simply not among them. Whether he slipped away as the army fled down the hill, or perhaps left even before the attack, we can’t say.”
Sabinus slapped his palm on the table.
“That man was at the very
“I understand that, sir, and we have already made it clear to the tribes that any man reported to be harbouring the criminal will bring upon him a dreadful sentence. There will be nowhere in Armorica he can find comfort when word gets out.”
Sabinus glared at him and then fell silent and slumped into the chair.
“Alright. Are you suggesting that I allow the tribes to leave peacefully anyway? Viridovix was the central part of my terms.”
Galba shrugged.
“With respect, sir, if the man had been there today, they’d have handed him to you in pieces if necessary. In fact, I suspect the fact that he fled from their side before they failed has lost him his last friends among the Unelli. I fear it would be unjust to severely prosecute the tribes for the cowardice of their leader.”
“Agreed” Sabinus sighed. “We need peace and we need them to go back to farming and sending us grain. Very well, we’ll go ahead with the terms, but I want an active hunt for that treacherous bastard. I want him to run like a boar, knowing there are a thousand spears stalking through every forest looking for him.”
Galba nodded and stepped to one side, a move calculated to put Cantorix in the fore, lit by the afternoon sun shining in through the tent doorway.
Sabinus gave a weak smile.
“Cantorix? Good. Some good comes out of even the most irritating situations. Your men all survived?”
The centurion saluted, nodding.
“To a man, sir. They’re survivors, my lot, sir.” He grinned. “Like cockroaches, sir.”
Sabinus laughed and gestured to the legate standing to one side.
“These men did your legion credit this past day, Plancus. They performed like the best of veterans, as did, I might add, the rest of the Fourteenth. Commendations, awards and preferential shares of the spoils will be forthcoming as soon as the matter of taking slaves, performing executions and dispersing the tribes is complete.”
He glanced past Cantorix.
“The Ninth and Twelfth also acquitted themselves well, particularly given the reduced nature of both legions at this time. Rest assured that mention of that will be made to Caesar when we return.”
He leaned back.
“And that brings me to the question of how we proceed from here. The tribal alliance here is broken, but we need to be sure it stays broken.”
He reached forward to the map of Armorica spread out on the table before him.
“The oppidum of Crociatonum has been used by the rebels as a military fortress, stripped of its civil population. The legions will settle here as a garrison for the foreseeable future, at least until Caesar orders their movement or withdrawal. While based here, I want regular vexillations of three cohorts in size sent out to look for Viridovix, to gather supplies and information concerning the tribes that have just retaken their oaths, and to make sure that a strong Roman presence is continually felt in the area in order to put the notion of further rebellion far from their minds.”
He leaned back again.
“Our small cavalry detachment, along with a couple of the tribunes in command, will ride for Caesar’s army to inform him of the completion of our mission here and will return with any news from the campaign against the Veneti. In the meantime, we will see to our dead, including the recovered body of tribune Gallus, and process the Gauls. Are there any questions?”
Silence filled the tent and Sabinus gave a weary smile.
“Then let’s get things tidied up. It has been a
Chapter 15
(Iunius: Inland Aquitania, two months prior to Caesar’s victory over the Veneti at the battle of Darioritum)
Gaius Pinarius Rusca, senior tribune of the Seventh legion, shuffled in his saddle.
“What are we waiting for, sir?”
Crassus shot him an irritable glance; the man asked too many questions. Still, while Rusca was as military-minded as a bag of brassica, a fresh-faced political ‘would be’ from Rome, he would likely be gone within the year and, after all, being surrounded by such idiots did one’s
“Reinforcements, tribune.”
“Sir?”
Crassus sighed.
“We are a single legion, as you may have noted, Rusca, not a force of three or four such as those being led in the north.”
Galronus of the Remi, leader of the strong auxiliary cavalry force accompanying the Seventh legion, rolled his eyes, his own irritation barely contained behind clenched teeth. Throughout the three week march south into
