Gallia Invicta

Aquitanian lands, the legate of the Seventh, a man Fronto had told him to be careful of, had persisted with the attitude that the Seventh legion were effectively a noble and veteran force, moving alone through hostile territory, while the numerous detachments of Gallic cavalry were little more than a hindrance that blocked an otherwise impressive view.

Rusca looked taken aback.

“Of course, sir. But one legion was enough for you to crush the north west.”

Oh good. Stupid and sycophantic.

“Rusca, the Armorican tribes were relatively civilised Gauls in small groups, with their own internecine wars to attend to. Conquering them was like laying down the law to a group of squabbling children by comparison with this.”

At least Galronus could agree with him on that point.

“Aquitania constitutes fully a third of Gaulish territory, Rusca. We are not talking about a few squabbling tribes here, but what amounts to an entire nation. There may be many tribes in Aquitania, but there are a few very powerful ones at the top of the heap who maintain power in the region. If we wish to control Aquitania, we must first seek to control those tribes.”

He squinted into the distance and gave a small half-smile.

“Don’t forget, Rusca, that very clever and powerful men have fallen foul of this place over the last century and more. Praeconinus and his army died here. Manilius barely escaped back to Narbonensis with his life. We will find no allies here and no friendly supplies. Make no mistake: in Aquitania, the Seventh legion is utterly alone.”

Again, Galronus ground his teeth as he glanced over his shoulder at the assembled mass of thousands of Gallic cavalry, but his attention was drawn back to the legate as the man laughed.

“So we must be prepared. And like all good commanders, I prepared as much as possible before we even left Vindunum. I sent a few requests and messages ahead with some trusted couriers. See how my preparations begin to pay off?”

He pointed to the saddle further down the valley, the few flitting clouds casting patchy shadows along the ridge. As Galronus and the tribune watched, men began to pour over the rise in their direction.

Galronus frowned.

“With respect, legate, may I ask how you managed to arrange such a large force of reinforcements?”

Crassus shrugged.

“I have a not-inconsiderable supply of money and influence. Add to that the authority of Caesar and you’d be surprised how easy it is to raise an army. I can only imagine how the decurions of Tolosa, Narbo and Carcaso must have panicked and fallen over one another to provide my troops and supplies in time.”

Galronus narrowed his eyes.

“The general authorised extra troops, sir?”

Crassus turned an angry look on him.

“Beware the pit trap of insolence, commander. I authorised them in the general’s name. Such authority is implied in my command. The general would rather we cost him a little inconvenience and succeeded in our task than we lost him an entire legion in the wilds of Aquitania; of that I’m certain.”

Galronus turned his astonished gaze back to the army pouring over the crest and down the valley toward them.

“There are thousands of them!”

“Somewhere in the region of three thousand, if my requests have all been met; mostly archers and spear men, along with a good supply train of grain and other goods.”

Crassus smiled smugly as he watched the army pouring toward them to almost double the size of his force.

“Let’s move on and pick up our new allies. They are, after all, solid Roman stock of Narbonensis who have had a long journey to join us.”

Galronus glared at the legate as he turned his back, wheeled his horse and threw up an arm to signal the army forward. ‘Solid Roman stock’ indeed… the men of Narbo were almost as Gallic as the Remi; had been less than a century ago.

As the legion and its auxiliary support moved off, the senior officers moving ahead with Crassus, Galronus walked his horse out to the side, deliberately detaching from the column.

He was surprised when, a moment later, one of the five remaining tribunes of the Seventh trotted out to join him. As the army marched on, Galronus looked the man up and down.

He had seen the tribune, as he had seen them all during the journey, usually with their heads up the legate’s backside. This one, one of the juniors, was surprisingly elderly to be filling such a post. From what Galronus understood, the tribunate was almost exclusively filled with young politicians climbing their ladder to success, alongside just a few clever veterans who stayed in the position in the hope of securing the command of a legion when the previous legate moved on.

This man, however, would be perhaps fifty years old or more. His hair was peppered black and white, his face lined and displaying a weariness that had little to do with physical exertion. The officer gave him a sad smile and pulled alongside.

“Can I help you, tribune?”

The man glanced ahead, but the command party had picked up the pace to meet the new troops and was clearly out of audible distance, even if they had been listening.

“Watch yourself carefully, commander.”

Galronus frowned.

“I already was, tribune.”

“More carefully. Young Crassus has taken a very personal dislike to you and you may find yourself in a great deal of danger unless you tread lightly.”

Galronus sighed.

“I am used to dealing with prejudice, tribune. The officers of Caesar’s army mostly see me as an barbarian warrior given too much authority for my own good.”

“Not like Crassus. He despises your cavalry and even their commander, Varus. He would never move against Varus, for the man is of noble Roman blood, but you…?”

The Remi commander nodded sadly.

“Do you know, tribune, that I spent the winter in Rome? I had only a loose command of Latin before my time there, and much the same even when I first arrived. And yet, in the city itself, no one treated me as anything other than another face in the street. No prejudice. The distrust of the Gallic peoples seems to be the province of the military alone.”

The tribune chuckled.

“Give them a little room there. They’ve spent the last two years fighting Gauls, so there’s bound to be a certain uneasiness. Things will change in time, but not until the army stops campaigning here. In the meantime, mark my words and watch your back. I will do what I can to help, but I will not, you understand, defy the legate for you.”

Galronus nodded.

“I would not expect it. I am surprised to find a tribune in the Seventh who would lower himself enough to speak to an auxiliary commander, let alone one of your… experience.”

The man laughed.

“’Age’, you mean. Yes, I’m no young hopeful, I’m aware.”

He held out a hand.

“Publius Tertullus. I have the esteemed honour of being young master Crassus’ uncle, through marriage.”

Galronus raised his brow.

“And you serve as a tribune?”

Tertullus laughed.

“I am not the most popular man of my line. I fear the lad’s father keeps me close to look after him.”

The Remi officer smiled and took the proffered hand.