S. Turney - The Great Revolt

The man saluted and Ingenuus departed the office, leaving the door to close with a click, and strolled on. Next stop: Caesar. As he rounded a corner and found himself in the wide vestibule that led to the Proconsul’s office, lined with statues of the Julii clan and of Venus Genetrix, the family’s divine mother, he was almost knocked sideways as a slave scurried out of another side corridor. The small Spaniard — whom Ingenuus recognised vaguely from having seen around in the palace only recently — stared wide eyed and then dropped his head and rattled out a string of apparently heartfelt apologies in his thick Iberian accent.

‘Clumsy idiot,’ Ingenuus grumbled, sweeping aside the matter with his three fingered hand as he righted himself once more. The slave backed away and the commander noted the hardened leather scroll case in his hand. An official courier’s case.

‘That is for the general?’

‘Yes Dominus. Arrived by dispatch rider at the palace gate only a moment ago. I was instructed that it was of the utmost urgency and to deliver it to the proconsul immediately.’

Ingenuus nodded. He briefly contemplated suggesting he take the scroll, but he had no authority over the palace slaves and the messenger would not give up his burden without argument.

‘Come with me.’

As he neared the end of the vestibule, the scurrying slave at his heel, he nodded to the two cavalry soldiers standing beside the office door. The men saluted him, yet stepped half a step closer together and crossed their spears over the door between them.

‘ Docendo discimus ,’ Ingenuus said clearly and watched in approval as the spears uncrossed in response to the password and the men stepped apart. Caesar had argued against the need for guards and passwords on the door of his office when the entire palace was under the same measure of security, but Ingenuus had calmly pointed out how only a month earlier the powerful and influential Clodius Pulcher had been waylaid on the Via Appia and slaughtered in a bloodbath. Given the current mood of Roman politics, Ingenuus was not about to relinquish even an ounce of control over the general’s safety.

One step closer and the commander rapped neatly on the door.

‘Come,’ came the muffled command from within.

The young prefect opened the door and stepped inside, bowing sharply and then striding over to the proconsul’s desk where he came to a halt at an attentive stance. The slave hurried up next to him and bowed deeply, clearly unsure as to whether to approach before the two Romans had spoken.

‘Give him the scroll you fool,’ snapped Ingenuus and harrumphed in disapproval as the slave fumbled the scroll case and almost dropped it before managing to pass it across to the proconsul, who took it without comment. The slave bowed again and retreated from the room, closing the door with a click and leaving the two men alone.

Caesar turned the scroll case over in his hands and finally plucked the lid from it, addressing Ingenuus without looking up.

‘Good morning, Aulus. Anything to report?’

‘Nothing unusual, sir. Still two men sick and none on leave. The new recruits are settling in nicely and appear to have mastered the basics. Their horses are being put through their paces again this morning and this afternoon, I have decided to take them on an exercise up into the woods.’

Caesar nodded, apparently only half-listening as he slid the scroll from the case. ‘Good. Well now, would you look at this.’

Ingenuus leaned forward as the general rolled the scroll to face him. The officer took note of the wax seal and the imprint of the goddess upon it.

‘Fortuna Conservatrix? With an orb?’

‘The seal of the Falerii. Fronto, in fact.’

Without further ado, the general snapped the seal and unfurled the scroll. ‘Interesting.’

‘Sir?’

‘Fronto’s seal, but this writing is Priscus’. I have spent years reading his reports.’

‘Then it is news from Gaul, sir?’

Caesar’s eyes played back and forth across the scroll, his eyes hardening as he read, his lips drawing thin and tight. Ingenuus frowned. He knew that look. ‘Sir?’

‘It would appear that we cannot wait until Martius for the tubilustrum festival and the start of campaigning. The season this year has begun early.’

‘Sir?’

‘Priscus brings news of a new rising in Gaul. Perhaps the ‘ great revolt ’ he has been anticipating. It certainly sounds like it, for the Carnutes have put the Roman merchants and the garrison of Cenabum to the sword, severed all supply and communication lines to the north and have elected Vercingetorix to lead not just the Arverni, but some great army of all the Gauls.’

‘Then we must mobilise immediately, sir.’

‘Agreed. I will leave Hirtius to tie up my affairs in Aquileia and send out summonses to any officers on furlough. We will move swiftly, picking up Priscus and Fronto at Massilia. I wish to pry further into the matter before we march across Gaul.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘What is your opinion on our route?’

‘Fast horse from here with the guard changing mounts regularly to give all the steeds a rest. From Massilia it is a simple matter to move up the Rhodanus valley and rendezvous with the army at Agedincum.’

‘It is. Far too simple, in fact. If the Gaulish rebels have severed supply lines and communications then that means they are in command of at least part of that route, and I cannot believe that they have left it unguarded. To march straight up the Rhodanus, which is precisely where they will expect us to move, is to invite trouble. No. We must go another way.’

The general stood and turned to the huge map hanging on the wall, tapping his finger on Massilia by the sea, his eyes ranging up the valley beyond and then back and along the coast.

‘This is the way we shall go,’ he announced, tapping out a dotted route along the southern coast and finishing at an image of a castellated red blob.’

‘Narbo, sir? Isn’t that rather a strange way round?’

‘It is. But it has three benefits. Firstly, it is not the way any Gallic rebels will be expecting me to go. Secondly, there is a garrison in Narbonensis that we can mobilise and use against the Gauls. And thirdly, once we cross the mountain passes it will deliver us directly into the heartland of the Arverni, the tribe that seem to be at the heart of this revolt.’

Ingenuus tried not to let the surprise show on his face.

‘But general, we are too few to bring war to the heart of Gaul until we meet up with the legions. I have a good cavalry unit, but the Narbonensis garrison is small and even with them we will be walking into the lion’s jaws.’

Caesar nodded and strode over to the window, where he pushed aside the wooden shutters that had kept the room shady, allowing the bright sunlight to flood in.

‘We will have adequate forces.’

Ingenuus crossed to the window and looked outside. This time he could not prevent his surprised expression from becoming manifest. ‘ Them, sir? But they’re new, untrained, raw and untested. They’re trainees, sir. They haven’t even been given a legion number or a standard yet.’

His eyes played across the ranks of new, young legionaries standing in ordered rows for their veteran officers to complete their morning inspection. The senate had passed a law over winter authorising a levy of new blood for the legions in the proconsul’s provinces, and almost two legions’ worth of men stood there now, well-equipped but with little more than two weeks’ training under their belts.

‘Untried they might be, but they are eager and well led by solid veterans of my old legions. They are equipped with the best arms and armour and — most important of all — they are here and available. The Gauls will expect me to travel up the Rhodanus with a small escort unit. They will not expect me to appear over the mountains from Narbonensis with two legions at my command. Imagine the chaos that will ensue within their carefully planned revolt at that surprise.’