belief .
Critognatos was so consumed by his belief that if a druid told him to walk off a cliff because Taranis asked him to, his brother would leap into the abyss with joy in his heart. Faith was a powerful force. And his brother was far from alone in this belief. Indeed the vast bulk of the army of Vercingetorix and the tribes that supplied those forces were every bit as prey to superstition as Critognatos.
The curse didn’t have to kill. It didn’t have to be infused with the power of a god. So long as the army believed it did, they would revere it and fight all the harder, filled with courage and sureness by the mystical.
His brother was right about one thing. Cavarinos did have to retrieve that tablet, and wield it, so that the army’s courage was bolstered.
‘Very well,’ he said, bowing faintly to the stone, despite the fact that the act made him feel foolish. ‘I will go and hunt the curse of Ogmios in the warrens and secret places of the shepherds. And you will raise the tribes to Vercingetorix’s cause.’
His brother nodded his agreement.
‘But,’ Critognatos replied, ‘you should not return to the army when you find it. Such a sacred gift is too precious to risk on the road south alone. Wait until I am finished in my task, and we will all travel back together, with our warriors to protect you.’
‘Agreed.’
‘We shall not be more than three weeks before we are ready to return. Any longer than that and Vercingetorix will find himself committed and we risk the Romans finding out and committing their own armies in the field. We need to be back by then, along with whatever forces we can raise.’
Again, Cavarinos nodded. ‘Agreed. Then we shall meet here in three weeks. I may be here earlier, of course, but I will keep the tablet secure until you join me.’
In one of those rarest of occasions, his brother cracked his miserable face with a smile and reached out to grip Cavarinos’ hand.
‘Good luck, brother.’
Cavarinos found himself shaking the hand in surprise. ‘And to you.’
Chapter 4
High in the Cevenna range.
Februarius had come and the advancement of another month on the calendar did nothing to bring signs of spring any closer. Indeed, as the army of Julius Caesar moved ever higher into the lofty peaks of the region over the succeeding days, winter seemed to come down on them with renewed vigour, running the whole gamut from chilling rain through hail, ice, sleet and snow. The legions, while they had been partially trained, well-equipped and thoroughly enthusiastic, were little prepared for such conditions and were finding the journey hard.
After only a day and a half moving up from the border, they began to pass through lands owned by the Helvii tribe, who refused to show themselves in any strength to the invasive force, melting away as soon as the scouts saw them and scattering among the high peaks and deep valleys to seek shelter in caves or hidden fortresses. Initially, Caesar had given the order that such groups when seen should be dealt with, since they at least nominally owed allegiance to the Arverni and their king , Vercingetorix. In the event, the practicality of sending barely-trained, frost-bitten legionaries or out-of-condition garrison troops after such parties was soon brought home to them when half a century of men vanished over a cliff in a small avalanche caused by a blaring carnyx. Since then, for the next three days, Caesar’s strict orders had been for the men to stay together in the column and to do their best to support one another through the harsh conditions. The few tribesmen they managed to entrap were simple farmers and woodsmen with no knowledge of events beyond their own village, yet whose local knowledge was proving invaluable in the army’s passage of the peaks.
It was at times like this when Fronto missed the companionship of his Belgic friend, Galronus, who always seemed to have some insight into their surroundings. For a moment
Critognatos was so consumed by his belief that if a druid told him to walk off a cliff because Taranis asked him to, his brother would leap into the abyss with joy in his heart. Faith was a powerful force. And his brother was far from alone in this belief. Indeed the vast bulk of the army of Vercingetorix and the tribes that supplied those forces were every bit as prey to superstition as Critognatos.
The curse didn’t have to kill. It didn’t have to be infused with the power of a god. So long as the army believed it did, they would revere it and fight all the harder, filled with courage and sureness by the mystical.
His brother was right about one thing. Cavarinos did have to retrieve that tablet, and wield it, so that the army’s courage was bolstered.
‘Very well,’ he said, bowing faintly to the stone, despite the fact that the act made him feel foolish. ‘I will go and hunt the curse of Ogmios in the warrens and secret places of the shepherds. And you will raise the tribes to Vercingetorix’s cause.’
His brother nodded his agreement.
‘But,’ Critognatos replied, ‘you should not return to the army when you find it. Such a sacred gift is too precious to risk on the road south alone. Wait until I am finished in my task, and we will all travel back together, with our warriors to protect you.’
‘Agreed.’
‘We shall not be more than three weeks before we are ready to return. Any longer than that and Vercingetorix will find himself committed and we risk the Romans finding out and committing their own armies in the field. We need to be back by then, along with whatever forces we can raise.’
Again, Cavarinos nodded. ‘Agreed. Then we shall meet here in three weeks. I may be here earlier, of course, but I will keep the tablet secure until you join me.’
In one of those rarest of occasions, his brother cracked his miserable face with a smile and reached out to grip Cavarinos’ hand.
‘Good luck, brother.’
Cavarinos found himself shaking the hand in surprise. ‘And to you.’
Chapter 4
High in the Cevenna range.
Februarius had come and the advancement of another month on the calendar did nothing to bring signs of spring any closer. Indeed, as the army of Julius Caesar moved ever higher into the lofty peaks of the region over the succeeding days, winter seemed to come down on them with renewed vigour, running the whole gamut from chilling rain through hail, ice, sleet and snow. The legions, while they had been partially trained, well-equipped and thoroughly enthusiastic, were little prepared for such conditions and were finding the journey hard.
After only a day and a half moving up from the border, they began to pass through lands owned by the Helvii tribe, who refused to show themselves in any strength to the invasive force, melting away as soon as the scouts saw them and scattering among the high peaks and deep valleys to seek shelter in caves or hidden fortresses. Initially, Caesar had given the order that such groups when seen should be dealt with, since they at least nominally owed allegiance to the Arverni and their king , Vercingetorix. In the event, the practicality of sending barely-trained, frost-bitten legionaries or out-of-condition garrison troops after such parties was soon brought home to them when half a century of men vanished over a cliff in a small avalanche caused by a blaring carnyx. Since then, for the next three days, Caesar’s strict orders had been for the men to stay together in the column and to do their best to support one another through the harsh conditions. The few tribesmen they managed to entrap were simple farmers and woodsmen with no knowledge of events beyond their own village, yet whose local knowledge was proving invaluable in the army’s passage of the peaks.
It was at times like this when Fronto missed the companionship of his Belgic friend, Galronus, who always seemed to have some insight into their surroundings. For a moment
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