a way to goad the Allobroges into rebellion.
Now they stood alone — against Rome.
And Caradoc would not listen to his counsel.
Confident that battle would not be joined for a week or more, the frustrated warrior had decided to gather his winter meat early. Hunting was a vain attempt to forget what was happening in the valleys below.
'I want an eagle standard,' Brac's face was eager. 'Like the one taken last summer.'
'You will have one,' lied Brennus. 'When the Romans have been beaten.'
The young warrior swung his free arm through the air, mimicking a sword thrust. He nearly dropped the end of the branch.
'Steady now!' said Brennus fondly.
The Gauls reached the temporary camp hours later, both men sweating from carrying the deer. Brac gratefully dropped his end of the carcass. A dog darted in to lick the blood and Brennus kicked it away with a curse.
The site had been their home for four days. The big man had led his cousin away from the village at the valley mouth, far from where other warriors usually hunted. They had toiled up wooded mountain slopes for the whole morning, finally reaching a large clearing through which a shallow stream flowed.
Brennus had gestured expansively. 'Water and firewood. Open space so the sun can dry the meat. What more do we need?'
As soon as they had erected the hide tent that would protect them against rain, the hunt had begun. That first afternoon had been unsuccessful, but Brennus returned calmly to the camp and constructed several wooden racks.
He had gazed at the sky and smiled. 'Belenus will guide us tomorrow. I feel it in my bones.'
By the following evening, the dogs had been fighting over the stripped carcasses of two deer, while Brennus and Brac sat by the fire, stomachs bulging. Further hunts had also been fruitful, with a boar and another deer falling to their arrows. The animal they had just killed brought the tally to five.
'We don't need more.' Brac pointed at the drying frames creaking under the weight of meat. 'And the spear count was today. We should get back.'
'Very well,' Brennus sighed. 'Let's eat plenty tonight and return in the morning. Today's kill can always dry in the village.'
'Won't have missed it, will we?' Brac was chafing to blood himself against the invaders. The impending clash had been the main topic of conversation for weeks. Caradoc was very charismatic, drumming his people into a frenzy of hatred against the legions.
'I doubt it.' Brennus tried to sound casual. 'We had three weeks of skirmishes before the battle last year. Remember?'
'How could I forget?' Brac could still picture warriors returning laden with Roman weapons and supplies, giddy with success.
Transalpine Gaul had been under the Republic's control for over sixty years and large numbers of troops were permanently stationed near its towns. The Allobroges' final victory, thanks to their guerrilla attacks from the safety of the forest, had been most unusual. And it had come at a high price, something few of the men seemed to have considered.
'Perhaps Caradoc can see what will happen,' Brennus muttered. 'Is it better to die free than to flee our lands like cowards?'
'What was that?'
'Nothing, lad. Get the fire going. Got a hunger on me like a bear after winter.'
Brac had so much to learn and as his oldest male relative, it was Brennus' job to teach him. As he began butchering the deer, the big warrior prayed the gods would allow him to complete the task as well as protecting his wife and child, the only people more important to him than Brac and his family. Thoughts of fleeing with them over the mountains before any fighting seemed weak, but, like defeat, flight was inevitable. In Brennus' mind, certain death awaited any who stayed to fight the Romans. Caradoc had persuaded the warriors otherwise. Concerned and frustrated, Brennus had approached the tribe's druid for help some time before, but Ultan would not get involved. And as expected, Caradoc had refused even to consider leading his people to safety. 'The Allobroges do not run like dogs!' he had roared. 'We will crush the legions. Teach Rome a lesson it will not forget!' Brennus had persisted and a threatening look had entered the old chieftain's eyes. Wary of Caradoc's evil temper, he had sworn his loyalty and not spoken of the matter in public again, even to his friends. Only talk of fighting the Romans was permitted.
The stand-off with Caradoc had made Brennus' decision easier. Using the hunt as a practice run, he would gather the two families upon his return and leave immediately. Liath and Brac's mother knew of the plan, but Brennus had decided not to tell his cousin until the very last moment. Still naive, Brac might inadvertently reveal the plan to another warrior.
The men worked in silence, gutting the deer, slicing meat into thin strips and hanging it from the racks. One leg was fixed to a spit and suspended over the fire. Soon after the sun had set, the clearing was full of the smell of roasting flesh. The dogs sat close by, knowing they would eventually get something.
By the time the pair had eaten, the moon had risen. Mountain air began to cool fast. They huddled closer, wrapped in blankets, dogs chewing bones at their feet.
'Second-best place in the world up here.' Brennus waved a hand at the panorama, belching contentedly. The moon hung above nearby mountains, casting a beautiful light on the snowy peaks. Only the reassuring crackle of burning logs broke the silence. 'Good day's hunting, then a belly full of meat by a warm fire.'
'Where 's the best place to be?' Brac asked curiously.
'Under the blankets with your woman of course!'
Brac blushed and changed the subject. 'Tell me a story about the time before the Romans came.'
Brennus was happy to oblige. Recounting long tales about hunting or cattle raids was one of his favourite pastimes and popular with everyone in the village. He launched straight into the story of the biggest wolf ever killed by an Allobroge.
Brac's face lit up.
'The winter of ten years ago was one of the hardest in living memory,' began Brennus. 'The heavy blizzards drove packs of starving wolves down from the forests. With nothing to eat, they began to prey on our penned cattle every night. But none of the warriors dared go out to hunt them.' He shrugged expressively. 'The snow was waist deep and there were rarely less than twenty of the creatures together.'
His cousin looked round the clearing nervously.
'Within a month, dozens of cows had been killed. Then an old man collecting firewood was attacked at the edge of the forest and Conall, your father, had had enough. With my help, he worked for days making large traps.'
'And you caught plenty!' Brac's eyes shone and he rubbed the long canine tooth hanging from a leather thong round his neck.
Brennus nodded. 'Five in as many nights. The wolves quickly became more cautious and people 's spirits rose. But it was not long before the pack's alpha male and a few others began to return, killing a beast with each visit. They had become far too clever to take the bait in the cages and men began to say that they were evil spirits.'
'Ultan says they were too scared to help.'
Brennus raised his eyebrows, taking a drink from his water carrier.
'Conall and I talked. There was no question of following the wolves into the woods. Up there the drifts were deeper than a man. So the next night Conall tied an old cow to a stake outside the palisade. There was no moon, just a few stars. He wouldn't let me stay with him. Said I was too young.' Brennus grinned, fondly remembering the man who had taught him everything he knew about weaponry. His own father had died when he was only an infant. 'So I sat on the walkway with my bow and a hidden torch.'
'Where was Father?' Brac had heard the story a thousand times but always asked.
'Wrapped in a fur cloak and deep in a snowdrift, close by the ox. It was a long, cold wait.'
'Half the night, he said.'
The big warrior nodded. 'Of course the cow smelt the wolves first and began bellowing like mad. Conall stayed calm and waited, as a good hunter always does. I could see nothing at all from my position.' Brennus lifted a
