Caesar

As the first two legions crested a turn in the pass, Caesar stared ahead of them in disbelief. Barely three hundred yards away, crossing the entire pass was a stone wall, well over fifteen feet high. As he stared, he became aware that standing on top of it were several hundred men. It was then he saw that they were archers.

"Fall back!" he bellowed, wheeling his horse. "Back around the pass!" The legions formed up quickly and turned, marching quickly but in a disciplined fashion towards the safety of the turn. Behind him, Caesar heard one of the Gauls shout "Loose!" and turned as he rode to see a hail of arrows descending upon the rear of his army. They fell into his ranks and several men screamed as they were hit. Cursing, Caesar galloped towards them, and directed several of the legionnaires to bear their wounded comrades to safety. He himself carried one man back on his horse to a hastily raised surgeons tent, and then cantered down towards where the encampment had even now begun to be set up.

Caesar swung down off his horse and strode angrily towards his commanders. With a curt gesture he ordered them to follow him into one of the tents that had been quickly raised. He then ordered the men to fetch both a table and chairs, as well as a flagon of wine, before following the commanders inside.

"Can anyone think of a way to overcome this obstacle?" Caesar demanded, "we have no engines with us, it will take time to build ladders and take the wall. Even if we do take it, is if there is another wall behind it..... Winter is coming fast. In less than two months this pass will be completely blocked. We must get through this wall within five weeks at the maximum. If we don't, we will be unable to destroy the Nervii in time to return to Italia before the snows. We will be cut off for half a year from Rome......" he trailed off, and then smashed his fist upon the table.

One of the officers cleared his throat, and then spoke when Caesar looked at him. "My general, I am afraid that we will have to storm the wall. I believe that it is over fifteen feet high, and that we can construct ladders long enough in maybe two days. If there is another wall after the second, we will be able to plan more carefully. All we can do is trust in our legionnaire's skills and courage to win the wall."

Another of the men nodded, and then said "Perhaps, my general, we can send a message to Trelius. He was sent to attack them from the rear, perhaps we can coordinate an assault to take the wall properly."

Caesar stood. "Very well. Prepare the ladders. We cannot afford a lengthy delay here."


Rothlin

Rothlin ripped his sword nervously as he stood on the wall waiting for the Romans to return. It was all well and good for Zeltar to appoint him a commander, but he was still unsure that he knew what he was supposed to do.

The ride over the past few days through the pass had been terrible. It had been freezing cold the whole time, for the past two days it had poured rain, and most of the men had been tempted to turn back. But thanks to Zeltar they had all arrived. Somehow he had kept them together long enough. And, Rothlin reminded himself, they had been just in time. The commander already at the garrison had told them that Caesar was due to arrive within two days. Zeltar had used the time to familiarise his men with the layout of the area, and Rothlin had found himself as the initial wall commander.

"Lad!" Zeltar called from down at the base of the wall, shaking Rothlin free from his reverie. "Come here for a moment!"

"Be right down!" Rothlin called back, then swung over the edge and quickly climbed down the ladder to meet him.

"Lad, we have to send an emissary out to speak to the Romans before they attack us. For one, we may just be able to delay them that much longer, maybe even convince them to abandon the campaign, although this I doubt. Maybe even offer them the chance to surrender" and Zeltar laughed, his deep voice echoing off the pass.

"Let me guess.... You'd like me to go?" Rothlin asked ironically.

Zeltar grinned. "Well, if you insist lad. Oh, and I think that I will join you in this little adventure. Might even be able to intimidate some of the Romans. Some of them are doubtless old enough to remember the Night Stalker, and perhaps some have seen me fight back in Rome. Never know what may happen."

Rothlin nodded and turned, shouting for one of his lieutenants. When the worthy arrived, Rothlin told him what was happening, and sent him to fetch a white cloth for use as a peace signal. When this had been obtained, Rothlin and Zeltar climbed the wall and swung down the outside on ropes. A company of six riders had led some horses around the wall, through a circuitous crevice in the wall of the pass. Zeltar and Rothlin mounted two of the horses, and then they all cantered along the pass towards the Roman camp.

"How do you think Caesar will respond to this, Zeltar?" Rothlin asked as they rode. "From what I've heard, he may merely seize us and then attack the fort." Zeltar scratched his chin, and then turned to look at Rothlin.

"Lad, Caesar for all his faults is still an honourable man. He knows the rules, and he probably thinks that there are only a few people here anyway, and so he may listen just so he can catch hints of our battle strategy. As for executing us, well, Caesar has always been one to try for a great deal of power, and if the Senate back in Rome heard that he was executing ambassadors, they might not vote him the support that he seeks. So I think it is unlikely that he will do anything more than talk with us, perhaps offer us some wine, and then send us on our way. Likely he will then build scaling ladders and attack the wall within the next day or so. And then the fun begins."

As they cantered towards the Roman camp, sentry stopped them and took their horses before escorting them to what Rothlin assumed was the command centre. Rothlin nodded at several of the men to act as an escort, before he ducked into the tent. Inside, they were shown to seats, and had wine fetched for them. A centurion then asked them to wait, whilst runners went and fetched the officers of Rome.

Zeltar rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Now the real fun starts, lad," he whispered, exchanging a glance with Rothlin.


Talia

Talia sat down behind Rothlin and Zeltar at the table. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she had to be here. She had come to this place in order to fight the Romans, but she would try first to stop them from attacking at all. She saw Zeltar suddenly raise his head to the door, and was barely able to pull her hood a little bit close before several men strode in through the tent entrance. Two of them had the epaulets of legion commanders upon their shoulders, but the third's uniform was bare, almost severe in appearance. However, judging by his sheer physical presence, this could only be Caesar himself.

Caesar stared at them, his eyes lighting briefly upon each before fixing upon Rothlin and Zeltar as obvious leaders. He quickly scanned Rothlin's face before moving his gaze to Zeltar. He frowned, as if Zeltar's face was somehow vaguely familiar to him Talia watched as he seemed to shrug, then turned and seated himself across the table from the Celts. He folded one leg over the other, and stared at them calmly before speaking.

"What can I do for you here? Do you wish to surrender, or do you have a proposal for me? Be brief, for I have a wall to take, and a province to punish." He said it calmly, but as if he expected to be answered. Clearly, Talia thought, this man is used to having his orders followed, and quickly. Zeltar made as if to speak, but before he could Talia stood. She was trembling, but she knew that this had to be done. She pulled back her hood, revealing her face. The light from the doorway sparkled in her hair, and Caesar stared at her in surprise. She glanced at Zeltar, and saw that his eyes were wide with shock. She dismissed him from her mind, and returned her attention to Caesar.

"I am Talia ne Galeth, daughter of the Lord Bladrath, and titular heiress to the tribe of the Nervii in South Belgae. I have come bearing greetings from my father, and the hopes that peace may still be achievable between us." Zeltar was staring at her, whilst Caesar leaned forward slightly as if interested, but unwilling to show it. She pressed on. "I know that you come to punish the tribes for rebelling against you, but especially our tribe for the slaughter of your garrisons throughout our lands. I bear the apologies of my father and his council for this deed, and the promise of their loyalty if you will but spare our people."

Caesar leaned back in his chair, and stroked his chin before replying. "All this may indeed be true....Talia, but the fact of the matter is that you have rebelled against the rule of Rome. Rome owns what was your land now, and Rome must have control over what is hers. Thus it is not my decision to attack your people, but that of Rome herself."

"But it is you who are the governor of this region. You have the power to turn aside from us, to spare us and the punish the other tribes. We implore you Caesar, turn your men aside."

Caesar laughed. "Talia, I have no need to turn aside. My troops, as you know, are more than a match for your people. Three years ago I entered Gaul with only forty thousand men, and took the entire region for Rome. Now my army is much larger, and much more able to defeat your people. I have no need for your submission, although the apologies are accepted. Still, your people rebelled against me, and the tribes must see what happens to those who rebel against Rome. Your people will be that lesson.

Zeltar rose languidly to his feet, and said casually, "Well, now that that's over with, we may as well return to our camp. After all, Caesar will undoubtedly be busy preparing to storm the wall, and we also must prepare. Come along Rothlin, Talia." He motioned for the others to rise, and to leave the tent.

Caesar held up his arm, and the guards on the door crossed their spears. "Who are you, old man? Your voice and face seem familiar, but I cannot place them."

Zeltar turned, and faced him. "My lord, how can you not know me?" he asked in mock surprise. "After all I did for you." Caesar's face showed anger, but still no recognition. "Very well then. My name, I believe that you know. I once lived in Rome. You saw me there many times, fighting for my life, as often as not."

Caesar looked thoughtful. "You were a gladiator then. I don't know of very many Celtic gladiators. I once was friends with one, but he is dead now. So then, what rank did you hold? Did you compete in the tournaments?"

"I arrived in Rome seeking fame and fortune, and became a gladiator, with you as my sponsor, Caesar. Within three matches I had challenged Gladiator One. And I won, I killed the best gladiator in Rome within heartbeats of the match beginning. I was the one that they named the Blade. You yourself called me your friend, the best there ever was. And yet, when I was attacked and killed my attackers in self defense, you were the first to label me a criminal, Caesar. Friendship you forgot, and you led the chase after me. I killed many of your men on my way north, including one of your cousins. But that was unavoidable, Caesar. You did not believe me before, likely will not now. But it is truth. And as I slew your men then, I am here to kill them again now. The word of the Blade."

Caesar's eyes smouldered as he nodded slowly. "Zeltar. They told me you had died, slain on your return to Gaul. I should have known that you would be more difficult to kill, after how you fought against my legion. I would never have expected to find you here in Gaul, much less fighting for the Nervii. I believe that you once said that you would never fight for politics, only for ideals." He stood. "Show them to their horses. They came under a flag of truce, and shall not be harmed. However, Centurion, send a patrol out in precisely half an hour. Kill anything in our territory here, you understand?" The centurion clapped a hand against his breastplate and escorted the Celts out. Talia turned, and bowed her head to Caesar. He inclined his, and then turned away, taking up a goblet of wine as they were led back to their horses, and to the wall that waited for them.


All

Two days later, just on dawn, Caesar attacked. A hail of arrows burst over the wall, cutting short a warning cry from the sentry. Zeltar rushed to the wall with several other men whilst the Nervii archers shot at the legionnaires who had set ladders up against the wall. Before long there were dozens of the Romans atop the wall, and more were constantly climbing.

Zeltar cursed as he raced along the wall, and drew his sword. Bellowing at the top of his lungs, he charged towards the nearest group of legionnaires. Slicing his way through them quickly and efficiently, he reached the ladder they had used before another of them had climbed up the wall. He heaved at it with all his might, and it tipped over, smashing into the ladder next to it, knocking several legionnaires to the ground. Along the wall the maneuver was repeated, until the wall was clear of Romans. Zeltar leaned over the wall and shouted contemptuously "Is that the best you can do!" whilst the legionnaires reformed and returned to their encampment.

When they were out of sight, Zeltar sank to his knees. He was bone weary, although the fight had lasted barely minutes. How can I manage to stand here, he wondered, if I cannot last more than a few minutes? How?

* * *

Caesar turned his horse and cantered back to the camp. His initial surmise had been correct, it would be very difficult to take the wall. From his estimate he had lost eighty soldiers whilst they had killed over one hundred of the enemy. The problem was, he mused as he rode, that he was unaware of the numbers of troops on the other side of the wall. A small force here could hold the wall for weeks, if not months. He would undoubtedly prevail against them eventually, but at what cost?

He swung down from his horse and ordered one of the messengers to attend to him. When the young man entered the tent, Caesar motioned for him to sit. "Soldier, you are no doubt aware of the difficulty which faces us here. Without definite knowledge of the composition and numbers of the army that faces us, we are literally beating our heads upon a wall. I require you to ride back down the pass as fast as you are able. Obtain several new mounts for yourself at our garrison there, and then head north to Marcus Brutus. Inform him of what has occurred, and urge him to advance upon the tribesmen, attacking them from the rear. he will of course need to send us a message when he is near, and if we are no longer here, I will leave messages for him with a small troop. Will you remember what I have just said?"

"Yes, my general. I will leave immediately."

"Good. Ride swiftly, soldier. Our future here may depend upon your speed."

The messenger bowed his had briefly and then left the tent. Caesar leaned back in his chair. All there was now to do was to wait. Then he remembered Trelius' troop on the other side of the enemy, and he smiled, as a new plan came to him.

* * *

Rothlin was standing outside of the barracks watching the wall when the missile rose into the night. A flaming arrow, he guessed, and his heart thundered as he realised that it was probably the signal for an attack. He hurried inside, rousing his men, and then they formed up and marched in formation up upon the wall. In the moonlight, Rothlin could see a force of legionnaires advancing stealthily, staying close to the sides of the pass. He smiled briefly, then gestured to his men to stay low, hoping to catch the legionnaires by surprises when they climbed the wall.

"What is happening, lad?" Zeltar's hoary whisper reached him. He turned and saw the old warrior at the head of the ladder, peering up at him through the darkness.

"They are trying a night attack. Did you see the arrow?"

"Aye, and that's what worries me. Why would they use that as a signal? Who to?"

The first ladder grated into place upon the wall. Rothlin quietly drew his blade. "We'll have to figure that out later, general. It's about to get very busy here." A hand soon grasped the parapet as a legionnaire pulled himself up onto the wall. His mouth opened in shock as Rothlin's blade slid into his throat, and he fell backwards, toppling several men off the ladder below. The Nervii screamed a war cry, and battle was joined with the Romans.

In the midst of it all, Rothlin was taking a breath when a legionnaire charged at him with a long spear. Rothlin dodged it, but stepped too close to the edge, and teetered upon the brink before falling off the wall. He landed hard, a sharp pain stabbing his left shoulder, but he managed to scramble back to his feet. As he did so he glanced back to the barracks, and saw men stealthily closing the gap between the furthest buildings. His mind screamed warnings at him, and he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ware! The enemy is in the camp!"

Rothlin charged towards the Romans as men boiled out of the barracks buildings in sleepy disarray, some not even dressed so swiftly had they responded. Among them he saw the slender figure of Talia wielding a long sword as she screamed with battle rage. Rothlin opened his mouth to shout at her to stay away, but before he could call to her she was already attacking the Romans. The men with her met the Roman force with a great clash, and as Rothlin charged towards them he heard someone jump from the wall behind him, but his mind was too preoccupied to turn now. As he ran, his mind was seething with questions. How had the Romans found their way behind the wall?

* * *

Trelius raised his sword and attacked another tribesmen as his men surged forwards, into the group of the Nervii that had hastily assembled. As he moved further into the camp, Trelius judged that by the number of barracks present, the force of tribesman here was small, only a few thousand in size. He called over one of his men and directed him to return back around the pass to relay this information to Caesar, before he turned back to the battle. Trelius was confident that his force of men would be more than sufficient to destroy the Nervii based here, as since Caesar was attacking the wall, much of their force would be needed to keep him from taking it.

Trelius saw more men running towards him now, and he ran forward with fifty of his troops to intercept them. As the legionnaires sliced their charge apart, Trelius looked back to the wall and saw two men charging towards his force. The first was young, with an intense look on his face. Trelius guessed him to be one of the commanders, and directed ten of his men to take him, alive if possible. Trelius continued to watch as his men surrounded the young tribesman, who fought valiantly, killing two and wounding another before he was captured.

Then Trelius noticed the tribesman who had been following the young one. This man looked far older, and as he drew his sword, Trelius was struck by a strange feeling of dejá vu. Surely he had seen this man before?

It became apparent that the man was intending to attack Trelius' men that had captured the young tribesman. Trelius watched as the man seemed to flow into his group of legionnaires, his sword lightly lashing out to take men in the throat, thrusting through the chest of the Romans. Several of his men were down, and Trelius began to feel concerned. The tribesman was killing them too quickly, moving almost faster than Trelius could follow. His sword glinted in the moonlight, and he seemed to dance among the legionnaires, dealing death as he moved.

Within several seconds he had killed all eight of them and freed his comrade, and then the two of them, with a force that had erupted from one of the barracks, charged at the battle. Trelius shook his head, and then calling his legion forwards attacked the Nervii again. Who the tribesman was could wait until after the battle was won.

Immersed within the battle, Trelius soon noticed that he was drawing ever closer to the strange pair. He felt a thrill of anticipation as the tribesman cut down another of Trelius' troops. Unlike most legionnaires, Trelius was a true expert with the sword, and so he charged and met the tribesman. He thrust quickly towards the man's heart, but the Celt twisted aside, and then lashed out with his blade, scoring a hit upon Trelius' ribs. Trelius felt the pain, and riposted, almost managing to slice off the man's hand. But the tribesman moved like a cat, swaying to the side and then ramming his blade into Trelius' chest.

As Trelius fell to the ground, he suddenly remembered where he had seen the tribesman before. The memory of the Great Arena washed over him, as he could once again see Zeltar fight. And then all went black and Trelius was gone.

* * *

Zeltar charged forward, killing legionnaire after legionnaire, and soon the tide of the battle began to turn. As more and more of the Nervii charged in, the legionnaires began to panic. They were separated from their army by this force before them, and now, there were several thousand men here against their now smaller force. If they had had a competent commander they may yet have held the Nervii, but their officer was dead, and soon the Romans started to flee the field. Zeltar ordered a troop of men to chase them upon horseback, and gathering most of those assembled raced to reinforce the wall.

It was not long before the night's fighting was over, and dawn stained the eastern sky once more.

* * *

Over the next three weeks Caesar made several more attempts at taking the wall. He knew now his enemies numbers and how to attack them, but could not use his forces to a full advantage. He was content merely to wait for Brutus to arrive from the north, as with Brutus were two full legions of cavalry and another two of infantry. The attacks continued, but seemed only half hearted to the defenders.

Daily, Zeltar sent out scouts to the north, searching for reinforcements, but none were forthcoming. At the same time messages kept arriving from the generals, bearing the same message.

"Just one more month." "Hold fast." "Give us more time." And Zeltar knew that even with Caesar seemingly diverted they could not hold.

And so the fighting continued.

* * *

At last, Caesar thought. Brutus is within attacking range of these damnable tribesmen. "Tell Marcus Brutus to attack the tribesmen at three hours past dawn in two days," he ordered the young messenger that had managed to avoid the Nervii's patrols. "I will attack them again at the same time. We will sweep them into a trap, clearing the way at last. Go now, and return to my tent after the battle is fought. For your bravery in bearing the message, you will be rewarded." The messenger saluted, then strode from the tent. Caesar heard him gallop off into the mountains, and smiled to himself. "Not long now, Zeltar," he whispered. "You may have escaped justice in Rome, but soon you will die."

* * *

Rothlin woke early and rose, taking his sword and preparing for another day. As he mounted the wall for his watch with his fist of men, he saw with a frown that Caesar's troops were already formed, but were not moving. Waiting for something.

"I don't like it." Zeltar observed from beside him. "I suspect that somehow they have moved another force behind us. I have set one thousand men down there to watch the pass, and hold it. Magnar's fist is also in reserve, as a flying company."

Rothlin patted the older man on the shoulder. "Do not worry, Zeltar. Only another few days and the army will be mustered, according to the latest dispatches. We will be able to retreat at night, and join the others. Not long now." Zeltar grunted, and continued to stare at Caesar's army. "I still don't like it," he whispered.

* * *

Brutus formed his men up into a file of six abreast and then gave the orders. The cavalry began to canter down the pass, followed by the infantry. Soon, Brutus thought, we will arrive to help Caesar. Only one more hour before the appointed time.

* * *

Caesar raised his fist and dropped it, and then his men attacked. Rushing the wall with scores of ladders, they quickly climbed and gained a foothold upon it, allowing more troops to arrive. He had committed more than three times as many troops to this effort than to any of the previous attempts. Already the line of the Nervii was showing gaps, but it was quickly reinforced, Caesar guessed from reserves at the base of the wall. He motioned another cohort of troops into the battle, and then looked at the position of the sun in the sky. Not long now.

* * *

Talia heard the thunder of hoof beats, and walked curiously from the makeshift hospital where she had been working since Zeltar had berated her for involving herself in the night attack. Shading her eyes, she squinted at the north, and saw a large force of cavalry charging towards the camp, only several hundred yards away. Then she saw the Eagles of the Legions, and she knew that they were lost. She ran, shouting at the wall, and quickly the flying company reformed and dashed to the north, attempting to halt the legions from penetrating the camp. The twelve hundred men were swept like chaff before the twelve thousand horsemen, and Talia ran towards the corral where the horses were kept. She had to get away.

* * *

Zeltar heard the screams and knew then what had happened. Bellowing to his men to abandon the wall and to retreat, he dashed forward and killed another legionnaire, before grabbing Rothlin, and then jumping off the wall, before leading the young man to the horses. Quickly they mounted, then Zeltar pulled a horn from his belt, and blew the signal for retreat. Several of the men then turned and saw the horsemen charging into the camp, and the entire force of the Nervii abandoned the wall, leaping off and dashing to the corral. Zeltar started northwards, but Rothlin turned, as if to help the tribesmen. Zeltar turned and grabbed the reigns of Rothlin's horse.

"No, lad! We must escape to warn the tribes. They are through now, and there is nothing that we can do." Rothlin reluctantly acceded, and they galloped off into the north, gathering up Talia and several hundred escaping tribesmen as they rode. Rothlin turned, looking back and saw the entire encampment ablaze, the wall being torn down and the legions pouring through. He knew that it would not be long now before they reached Belgae, and he turned his horse to the north. They had to prepare, time was running short. They had to reach the army, to prepare for the final battle.