Read Online Marius' Mules VII: The Great Revolt by S. J. A. Turney - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S. J. A. Turney
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their way through a snowy pass…
He smiled to himself at what he imagined at the end of their journey: the freeing of the people. Narbonensis would fall, ripped from the Romans’ grasp and released from their endless taxes and uniformity and laws. And they would once again become a free land of Volcae, Tectosages, Arecomici and all the other tribes who had languished under Roman rule for so long. For it was no good Vercingetorix and his far-seeing Arverni raising all the tribes to fight back the Romans without freeing their captive brothers in the south after a century of domination.
He glanced back to see his force pouring through the valley behind him, skirting the low mound of some Ruteni town or other, where the men cheered this show of strength in the face of Roman rule, and the women leaned over the walls and, despite the bone-freezing chill, bared their breasts at the passing warriors, who laughed and called back in delight.
He could only imagine the different scene if they had come the direct route across the mountain passes. Instead of the inviting pink breasts of the local women, his men would be digging a path through packed snow and spending half the time burying their own dead and snapping off hardened blue-black toes.
No. He had suggested this route to Vercingetorix, and the Arverni king had been wholeheartedly in agreement. In less than a week they would be in Narbonensis and bringing fear, fire and the sword to all who held to Roman rule.
His own tribe were not so far north of here, to the south of the Arverni, and it had been Lucterius who had given the king the initial estimates of the garrison and approximations of the general strength of Narbonensis. But recent conversations with the few Volcae who still lived outside the borders of the republic and with the free Ruteni had supported his estimates.
The standing garrison of Narbo would number no more than a thousand. There were other Roman units scattered about the province, particularly to the west, furthest from Rome, but between them all not more than a thousand. That meant a rough figure of two thousand in the whole province. A quarter of the number that Lucterius brought south. And they were not battle-hardened veteran legionaries like Caesar’s troops, but slovenly, fat and untried garrison troops who had faced no threat in living memory.
Moreover, there was almost no chance of the entire force being brought together with less than a week’s notice, scattered as they were across the breadth of the province. And there was no more threat from the Roman forces down in the Iberian lands than there was from those in Caesar’s province on the far side of the Alpes.
Narbonensis was in his sight and would fall swiftly. He had already planned the next move, once they had thundered south and taken Narbo. All ships impounded, and the cavalry would split into smaller groups, racing east and west to secure all the main routes from the province while the rest would occupy Narbo and move on in groups to the other cities and ports, securing them as they went. Word of the province’s fall would have to be kept from Caesar’s ears for as long as possible. Then, and only then, would Vercingetorix be free to wipe out their presence in the north.
And the once-subjugated tribes would help bolster the rebel forces when they realised that they were free and the continuation of that freedom depended upon their willingness to fight for it. Narbonensis’ Roman garrison may be weak, but its defence by the native tribes would be a much different matter. Rome had been expanding for generations. This spring would signal the start of its reversal.
Briefly, he wondered whether the Greek council of Massilia could be persuaded from their alliance with Rome and into a collective allegiance with the tribes. All things were possible if you were bargaining from a strong enough position. Narbo first. Then the coast and the borders, and then the great population centres:
He smiled to himself at what he imagined at the end of their journey: the freeing of the people. Narbonensis would fall, ripped from the Romans’ grasp and released from their endless taxes and uniformity and laws. And they would once again become a free land of Volcae, Tectosages, Arecomici and all the other tribes who had languished under Roman rule for so long. For it was no good Vercingetorix and his far-seeing Arverni raising all the tribes to fight back the Romans without freeing their captive brothers in the south after a century of domination.
He glanced back to see his force pouring through the valley behind him, skirting the low mound of some Ruteni town or other, where the men cheered this show of strength in the face of Roman rule, and the women leaned over the walls and, despite the bone-freezing chill, bared their breasts at the passing warriors, who laughed and called back in delight.
He could only imagine the different scene if they had come the direct route across the mountain passes. Instead of the inviting pink breasts of the local women, his men would be digging a path through packed snow and spending half the time burying their own dead and snapping off hardened blue-black toes.
No. He had suggested this route to Vercingetorix, and the Arverni king had been wholeheartedly in agreement. In less than a week they would be in Narbonensis and bringing fear, fire and the sword to all who held to Roman rule.
His own tribe were not so far north of here, to the south of the Arverni, and it had been Lucterius who had given the king the initial estimates of the garrison and approximations of the general strength of Narbonensis. But recent conversations with the few Volcae who still lived outside the borders of the republic and with the free Ruteni had supported his estimates.
The standing garrison of Narbo would number no more than a thousand. There were other Roman units scattered about the province, particularly to the west, furthest from Rome, but between them all not more than a thousand. That meant a rough figure of two thousand in the whole province. A quarter of the number that Lucterius brought south. And they were not battle-hardened veteran legionaries like Caesar’s troops, but slovenly, fat and untried garrison troops who had faced no threat in living memory.
Moreover, there was almost no chance of the entire force being brought together with less than a week’s notice, scattered as they were across the breadth of the province. And there was no more threat from the Roman forces down in the Iberian lands than there was from those in Caesar’s province on the far side of the Alpes.
Narbonensis was in his sight and would fall swiftly. He had already planned the next move, once they had thundered south and taken Narbo. All ships impounded, and the cavalry would split into smaller groups, racing east and west to secure all the main routes from the province while the rest would occupy Narbo and move on in groups to the other cities and ports, securing them as they went. Word of the province’s fall would have to be kept from Caesar’s ears for as long as possible. Then, and only then, would Vercingetorix be free to wipe out their presence in the north.
And the once-subjugated tribes would help bolster the rebel forces when they realised that they were free and the continuation of that freedom depended upon their willingness to fight for it. Narbonensis’ Roman garrison may be weak, but its defence by the native tribes would be a much different matter. Rome had been expanding for generations. This spring would signal the start of its reversal.
Briefly, he wondered whether the Greek council of Massilia could be persuaded from their alliance with Rome and into a collective allegiance with the tribes. All things were possible if you were bargaining from a strong enough position. Narbo first. Then the coast and the borders, and then the great population centres:
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