Well, I held no brief for the Druids. Hereditary priests have always struck me as a parasitical lot. Our forefathers showed great foresight in making the priesthoods a part of political office.
“Good riddance to them, then,” I said.
Caesar sat and leaned forward. “And, Decius, they are not just bards and lawgivers. Their religion is a dark and bloody one. Their great festivals involve human sacrifice. In their groves they erect great effigies of men and beasts made of wicker. At important rituals these are filled with men and women and animals and set afire. The screams are said to be appalling.”
I felt the thrill of horror that we usually feel when the subject of human sacrifice is mentioned. Of course, the Gauls would have to exert themselves to come up with human sacrifices as horrifying as those of our old, implacable enemies, the Carthaginians. But these wicker immolations would certainly suffice to characterize the Gauls as savages. Our own very rare human sacrifices were always carried out with great dignity and solemnity, and we used only condemned criminals for the purpose.
“Your plans do not lack grandeur,” I admitted. “But then, ambitious men predominate in Rome just now, not safe, conservative plodders like my own family.”
“Nonetheless, I would welcome the support of the Caecilians.” This was the Caesar I knew; the Forum politician who was so adept at building a coalition to back his schemes.
“You are talking to the wrong one. I am by far the least of my family. Nobody listens to me.”
He smiled. “Decius, why must you always behave like a dutiful boy? The great men of your family are getting old and soon will step down from public life. By the time you hold the praetorship, you will be high in the family councils. Bonds forged in the field are lasting, Decius.”
It was a fine sentiment but not altogether true. Old soldiers cherished a certain good fellowship, but only as long as their ambitions did not clash. Marius and Sulla and Pompey had all been great comrades-in-arms in many campaigns. Until they vied for power, at which time they became deadly enemies.
4
THE NEXT DAY I BEGAN MY TEDIUS work in the praetorium while Lovernius and the rest of my ala conducted their patrols and sweeps and escort duties. Most of these duties were performed by the regular auxiliary cavalry, of which we were acquiring a prodigious number. Caesar wanted an immense cavalry force for this campaign and was most insistent that the province provide every able-bodied man and beast for this service. We Romans have always been rather contemptuous of cavalry, but the more horsemen you have, the more Gauls respect you.
At least my duties kept me safe. As safe as one may be in a tiny legionary camp in the wilderness surrounded by overwhelming multitudes of howling barbarians. They were not yet ready to mount a concentrated offensive against us, but that was only a matter of time. In the meantime, it was certain that their nocturnal assaults would grow in frequency and boldness. Everyone’s principal worry was that they might call upon German reinforcements to help them drive us from their path.
In obedience to Caesar’s orders, I had to wear my armor and keep my weapons handy even when engaged on clerkly tasks. To make things worse, he forbade any drinking during the day. I thought this was carrying things a bit far, but I knew better than to protest.
Before settling down to my papyrus, pens, and ink, I found one of the legion’s sword instructors and arranged for him to teach Hermes the rudiments. Like most such men he was an ex-gladiator and the fact that he had lived to retire proved his proficiency with weapons. The scar-faced brute immediately set the boy to thrusting at a six-foot stake like any other tyro on his first day in the lndus. I knew that within minutes he would feel as if his arm was ready to fall off; but the instructor would not be satisfied until he could keep it up all day, and hit a spot the size of a silver denarius every time. He was already starting to sweat when I left for the praetorium.
From all around I heard the bawling of the centurions and their optios as they drilled their soldiers. The hammers of the armorers made a continuous din and the hooves of the cavalry clopped on the hardened surfaces of the streets as they rode out to patrol or back in to report. I smiled to hear it all, because I was no part of it. I had a task that would keep me sitting, and it would not be in a saddle.
While Caesar and Labienus conferred with a delegation of semi-Romanized Allobrogians, I sat in a folding chair at a field table and drew my sagum close against the chill morning breeze. Clouds blocked what little warmth might have been gleaned from the remote, Gallic sun. Thus wrapped in cold iron and warm wool, I opened the first scroll of Caesar’s reports to the Senate.