Zeltar

Zeltar slammed his fist down on the table. "I tell you, we must prepare! Caesar is coming, and we are defenseless against him" he roared. "If you are too afraid to deal with this situation, then step down off this council and let someone with courage sit at your bench!" "But how do we know that Caesar will indeed invade us?"questioned a voice. "Perhaps he merely means to pass us by, and attack the Germanic tribes that lie to the east of us."

Zeltar shook his head at their stupidity. Perhaps this war council was actually good at war, but at decision making, the elders of the Nervii simply could not seem to agree upon anything.

"Caesar is crossing the Alps as we speak with six full legions, as well as four auxiliaries. This our scouts report, and this means that we have over sixty thousand men entering Gaul within three weeks. It was you,’ Zeltar pointed at the council as a whole, ‘who were the chief instigators of the past rebellion, in which the forts to the south were overrun. If you believe that Caesar will allow the slaughter of two cohorts of his men, and the capture of his fortresses to go unrevenged, then you have no business on this council. I have been named warleader by Chief Bladrath, to follow him in his position and to lead our forces against the legions. If you will not give the aid that you are oath bound to give’ he stopped, as one of the nobles stood, and made ready to speak.

"Yes, you have something to say that is actually useful?"

"Indeed I do," Garvas replied calmly. "You say that Caesar is approaching with ten legions, and will arrive in our territory in approximately three weeks. Is this correct?"

"Yes. Scouts report that the army entered the Alps three days ago now. They can cross, if they hurry, in exactly nineteen days, as long as the weather is favourable."

"Well then, Zeltar, what is strange to me is exactly what you propose to do. Our forces, if we muster our entire tribe and the other tribes of the Southern Belgae who are oath bound to us, will number approximately one hundred and fifty thousand. But we will require at least two, if not three months to gather all of them, and without our full strength, we will be unable to defeat Caesar. You say that we have three weeks. How then, do you propose to resist them?"

Zeltar sighed. He had hoped that they would merely follow along, without wishing to know the details. He did not entirely know them himself.

"In precisely five days, the forces here at Galeth and all those we can muster within that time who are mounted will ride as quickly as they can to the pass in the south, where Caesar is crossing. For the past three days, a group of men from here have been working upon rough, consisting of a large wall across the pass. The men who will go will man the wall, and will attempt to hold Caesar for at least two months. If reinforcements are possible, an additional five thousand men will be sent. After the two months are over, the men will retreat and will reconvene with the rest of the army, which will have mustered as quickly as possible, and will attempt to defeat Caesar together. By the time the army is mustered, this council will have been able to decide upon a strategy that will allow us to engage the legions with success."

Garvas nodded thoughtfully. "Who will lead the men in the pass? Firm leadership will be needed, so that they do not break."

Zeltar looked at him, straight into his eyes. "I will command at the pass. Before I leave, I will delegate command to the man I believe to be the most capable. It will then be in his hands, and hopefully we will buy you all enough time to make a defense against Caesar."

"So be it. Council of the Belgae," Garvas turned and addressed them. "Do you agree with the plan of Zeltar nŽ Kerath?"

"Aye!" the council responded as a whole.

Garvas turned once more and faced Zeltar. "Very well then, Zeltar. We are yours to command. We will begin the muster at once."

The next few days passed quickly in Galeth. Zeltar attended several war councils during which the council began the preparations for war in earnest. All the troops of the Nervii in the area were ordered to muster at the fields of Tremollien, fifty miles to the south, and after the final preparations for war were made, Zeltar led the three hundred cavalry stationed at Galeth south, to join the forces there. When he crested the hilltops overlooking the field, he saw that there were many thousands of men encamped there. He hoped that they would prove sufficient to the task at hand.

Zeltar motioned his troop forward and they cantered down towards the encampment. In two days, they would begin the journey to the Alps. And then, Zeltar thought, I will have my revenge, Caesar.


Rothlin

Rothlin turned to see a troop of cavalry cantering down the slope towards the encampment. He wondered who these new arrivals could be. He had been here since the muster began, over five days now, and every day more and more men rode in to join the fight against the Roman legions. Rothlin had himself led a troop of ninety men here, the members of his former outlaw band who wished to fight for their freedom, who had more than enough reasons to hate the Romans. He sighed. All his life he had believed that the Romans under Caesar had killed his family, his wife and daughters. And just a fortnight ago, Taryem had brought that belief crashing down around him. He now had nothing to believe in, nowhere to go.

He straightened then. At least here he could make a difference, defending the other people of his tribe and his land. He could make a difference to them, and perhaps it would ease his pain for a while.

The incoming troop rode past, and as he watched them, a jolt went through him. He recognised the banner at their head as that of Chief Bladrath, Lord of all the Nervii. He stared dumbfounded at their leader. He recognised Zeltar at once, and felt an icy grip close around his heart. Zeltar wouldn’t be here if this mission was going to be easy. Rothlin glanced around him. Many of the men he saw here would probably die. But then, he thought, I knew that anyway. And what else am I here for?

Rothlin turned and followed the troop of cavalry into the command areas of the encampment. As the leader of ninety men, he had been counted an officer when he arrived, and so he had a voice here in the planning stages, albeit a minor one. He was curious to know what Zeltar was here to say.

* * *

In a hastily constructed hall, Rothlin took his seat near the end of the table near his fellows and gazed at Zeltar who was arguing with the general at the head of the table. He could not hear what was being said, but from the look on the aged commander’s face, it was not pleasing to him, at least.

At last the general seemed to give in, and motioned Zeltar forwards to the table. Zeltar cleared his throat and spoke. "I am here to take command of this force for the purpose of delaying the legions of Caesar in the Alpine passes. I have been informed that there are now six thousand troops here, with another two thousand expected within the next two days. I will take all those here who have horses, and travel to the pass. We will arrive there within the week, and all of the men that can be gathered here within that time will then leave to assist us. Any questions?"

A man next to Rothlin, named Wesik, stood. "If you will excuse me sir, but as I recall the passes between Rome and our territories are clear, with the legions having a clear path through. And we all have heard that there are sixty thousand men with Caesar. How are only five thousand of our men going to hold the pass for any length of time? We should be slaughtered like sheep!" Murmurs of agreement ran around the table as Wesik sat down. Zeltar held up his hand for silence, and then explained his plan once more.

Rothlin leaned back in his seat, contemplating what he had heard. He did not hear the arguments that followed, but was lost in his thoughts as he wondered exactly how to make sure that the walls that Zeltar mentioned were held for as long as possible. Then he rose, and all conversation stopped as everyone in the room turned to look at him. Zeltar raised an eyebrow, and then frowned, as if trying to remember him. Rothlin stared at him and then said loudly, "I will come. My men will be ready at dawn, general," and he bowed to Zeltar before leaving the tent, to tell his men to get some rest, and be prepared to move.

Behind him, in the stunned silence that followed, Zeltar smiled to himself. Here, he thought, is a man.


Caesar

The scout rode in when the legions had stopped for their noon meal, moving directly to Caesar’s tent. He dismounted and saluted the general, who was eating in the sun with his other officers.

"Yes, soldier, what have you found?" Caesar asked, whilst tearing a wing off a partridge.

"My general, there seems to be a small garrison about halfway into the pass. There is an encampment there, and I have been able to roughly count their numbers to fifteen hundred men. I would guess that their purpose is to delay us sufficiently to allow the tribes to rally behind the mountains. I was unable to penetrate the pass further, as I would have been seen."

Caesar thought for a minute, then waved his hand. "Go, have a meal. I will send you and your companions back out soon enough." He turned to the officers eating with him, and asked. "What do you think, gentlemen? How will we flush out this prey?"

Trelius, newly promoted from the rank of centurion, stroked his chin. "I would suggest that we send the scouts back out to determine whether these men are solely infantry, or have archers amidst them as well. If the former, we may advance quietly, and with caution, and perhaps even use our cavalry to our advantage. If there are archers there, we may have to mount a guerilla raid, perhaps during the night to be sure of success."

Caesar nodded. "Well done, Trelius. Very well, tell the scouts to find out what manner of force is facing us here. After the noon meal we will advance into the pass, as if we had no indication they were there. Secretly, however, you will take two cohorts of men and leave the pass to the right. The scouts report that until we pass the halfway point, the route to the east is not too steep and difficult. Circle your men around to the other side of the encampment, and wait. When you see a flaming arrow rise into the air from our force, attack them, unless I have sent you another message with a different plan."

Trelius clapped his fist to his breastplate. "It will be done, my general." Caesar smiled. "Excellent. Then let us get moving. It is a journey of about a week to the site of this camp, and we haven’t much time left before the snows close the pass again."

The generals around the table rose, saluted and hurried off to rally their men. When they had finished breaking camp, Caesar walked over to his horse and mounted, then raised his hand and held it for seven seconds, one for each legion. Then he lowered his fist and started forward.

And the legions of the Roman Republic entered the pass to Cisalpine Gaul.


Zeltar

They entered the pass three days after leaving the camp in Belgae, and cantered swiftly down towards the garrison that had been left to fortify the pass. As they rode, Zeltar had found that from all of his men, the lad Rothlin was the most sensible, and was also one of the better tacticians and fighters. Zeltar had appointed him the commander of one of the five fists of a thousand men that had ridden out from Tremollien, as he felt the boy was best suited. He sighed as he rode. Rothlin had told him that he had been a farmer turned renegade, who had joined the army at Tremollien as a method of revenge against the Romans. How a farmer could become so adept at both logistics and at killing was beyond Zeltar, but he accepted the boy for his ability. They would need all the help they could get once they reached the site where they were to hold the legions, for at least two months.

Zeltar spat into the rocks as they rode further into the gullet of the pass. How he was to hold the legions of Rome, under their greatest living general, for long enough with only one tenth of their numbers was beyond him. The boy Rothlin seemed to have several ideas, but they could not be tested before they arrived at the site.

For the next four days the army moved deeper into the pass, growing closer to the wall that was waiting for them. Many of the men grew quieter as they rode closer, for they knew that many of them would die here in the pass, far from their families and friends. But they had all chosen to make this journey. They would rather die than let their people become Roman slaves.

Zeltar watched their moods with a grim irony. It was similar to the emotions that he had seen during the last Roman incursion, over seven years ago, when Caesar and an army of only forty thousand had crushed the Belgae, whose forces numbered over seventy thousand. But Caesar had been too eager to return to Rome, and so the tribes had rebelled, burning Roman garrisons and slaughtering Roman soldiers. And now Caesar was returning once more, this time with ten legions instead of six.

But then, Zeltar mused, these emotions will not be that new to all of them. Several faces he still remembered from that campaign seven years ago, when they had all been afire with the wrath of those whose homes were being taken away from them. But now, those faces seemed more resigned. They had faced the Romans before, and they knew best what was coming. Looking back, he met the eyes of one of the men, cloaked and hooded against the wind. He turned away. Only death and despair were written there, it was best not to dwell upon the fate of these young men under his command.

Zeltar heeled his horse into a canter. Better that we get there sooner, he thought. Let the men become familiar with the wall. After all, he thought, it will be the last sight that most of them will ever see.


Talia

She held the hood of her close as Zeltar turned away, and sighed to herself in relief as he failed to recognise her. For four days now she had ridden at the back of the troop, catching up with them during the early hours of the morning after they had left Tremollien. Despite the necessity of her remaining at Galeth, she could not help herself. She had summoned Garvas, whom Zeltar had left in charge, and had informed him that she and her father would be moving to their summer residence two weeks early. He had not been suspicious, and as they set out she told her father her wishes. He had been too weak to change her mind. In the end, he sighed and said, "Pray that if you ever have daughters, they are not so strong willed as you!" She had ridden out then in the guise of a warrior tribesman, and had joined the army as they headed south.

The group to which she had attached herself was commanded by a young warrior with sapphire blue eyes. But there was something in those eyes that made Talia shiver, a memory of pain and death, suffering to great to allow him to truly live.

As they rode into the pass, Talia shivered. The wind was cold, straight off the peaks where snow had already begun to fall. Soon the pass would be blocked, it was only a matter of weeks before Caesar was cut off from Gaul completely, and the threat of invasion removed until the next season.

At the head of the column, Zeltar signaled for the group to increase their pace to a fast trot. The sooner that they reached the fortress in the pass, the better he would like it. Talia sighed, then gathered her cloak firmly around her before kneeing her horse to the new pace. Zeltar was not the only one who wished that this interminable ride would end. She hungered to be there on the walls, fighting the Romans blade to blade. She vowed to herself as she rode, that she would achieve her wish.