((The Central Oppidium))
After choking down their lamb stew and crude but tasty hunks of bread, Betilus told Bruce and Baxx that they would have to hurry to avoid being late to the big meeting.
“Don’t worry friends, I will keep your comrade company until you return.” Mudicca said with a wry grin as she offered Viran and children more bread.
“I’m sure you will.” Betilus retorted with an air of sarcasm.
As the trio swiftly departed and walked the nearly 600 yards to the encampments central meeting place, Baxx’s anxiety steadily increased with each step.
“I will leave the talking to you Bruce…ilanus. I trust your ability to converse better in the dialect of our southern allies better than my own.”
“Aside from the declaration of attendance and any votes that are called, there likely won’t be much talking required from either of you.” Betilus replied.
When they arrived, it was clear that though they were not late, per se, most of the other Chieftains, Petty Kings, Generals and Warlords were already assembled. The Oppidium itself was a simple set of three large long logs placed in the shape of a U, at which the attendees were to sit. A small 4 metre by 6 metres flat topped mound sat at the top of the U, and they could see several men clamouring around a bunch of rocks laid out in front of it. One man among them moved about and placed more stones in careful and obviously precise locations.
“I must go and join my Chieftain, I’ll come find you when we’re done friends.” Betilus said before strolling away.
Baxx and Bruce found an open corner of one of the logs and had a seat.
“Fair day friends. I do not recognize you from last week’s council, have you arrived with the armies of the Gaelici, Veneti, and Dumnonii recently?” A gruff looking short man with the standard issue Gallic moustache asked as they sat next to him.
“We are from Britannia, of the Boernici tribe, and yes, we just arrived here this morning. I’m Brussilanus and this is our Chieftain Baxxorix.” Bruce looked around at the large group of senior celtic warriors whom he assumed represented tribes from all over western Europe.
“Well met, I’m Sallarcas, War Chief of the Nervii. You have arrived just in time, we will make history on the morrow.” Sallarcas said as he slapped his thigh with a closed fist.
“So we’ve heard.” Bruce noticed the man who had been playing the stones walk up onto the small mound and raised an open hand above him. The gathering attendees swiftly quieted and those who were standing quickly found seats.
‘Holy shit, that must be Vercingentorix. Cooooool.’ Bruce thought to himself.
“Declare yourselves!” Another fully bearded man shouted as he stumbled onto the mound with Vercingentorix before taking a large swig from a roughly one gallop sized jug.
“Commius, of the Atrabates.” the man at the end of the log nearest to the left of the mound stood and announced.
“Netoranus, Chief of the Suessones.”
One of the only females present, and the only one seated on one of the logs stood next.
“Callavica, Chief of the Ordivici.”
The procedure repeated itself with each leader announcing themselves in order. When it got to their turn, Bruce gently elbowed Baxx who stood and said, “Baxxorix, of the Boernici.”
Up until then there had been noteworthy responses to any of the leaders after they spoke, but as Baxx sat back down there was a series of murmurs and everyone present looked at the blue skinned Bolian, many of them with dower and sympathetic looks on their faces.
“Condolencses comrades.” Said the man to their right before he stood, “Castarix, High Chief of Trevari.”
As the rest of the leaders stood and made their declaration, Bruce saw many in attendance looking at Baxx and whispering to others around them.
‘Uh oh, we might have just signed our death warrants…’ he pondered.
As the man on the mound began to speak, a few warriors with what appeared to be two captive, bound, Roman Legionaries in tow, led them onto the mound by a rope that was tied around their necks.
“Noble allies, welcome. To those present who are unaware, we have found and pinned the enemy’s army in place about 3 miles south of here. And we have received word that our detachment of allies from the Boii, Seubi, and Vituriges will arrive and assault their western flanks just after sunrise tomorrow. The force the Romans have assembled to face us numbers around 70000, and includes many Ala and vexillations of their vassal states. Though we outnumber them, we must not let our confidence and ego mislead us. I have a plan for how we will attack tomorrow.” He turned and bent over to retrieve a long tree branch which he then used as a pointer as he shared the plan. The stones were a primitive form of sand table that he had produced to help explain his strategy to them all.
It took him about 5 minutes to describe how he planned to defeat the Romans. It was to begin with a frontal assault by all three of their formations that was to be followed up by a rapid Calvary charge led by the chariots against the left wing of the Roman force. The calvary would then be reinforced with a large body of warriors who would shift from the Celts central formation and exploit the presumed gaps in the Roman lines.
As he finished laying out the plan Vercingetorix then motioned for the Roman prisoners to be brought forward.
“This is Centurion Titius Pulla, and standard bearer Flavius Drosinus of the Romans 10th Legion. They were captured as they were trying to scout the hillside near our army a few hours ago. They have provided us with no useful information, and remain defiantly assured of their comrades ability to defeat us. Centurion, do you have anything you would like to say to my Generals and I?”
“Pompey the Great is gonna send you all to meet whatever Pagan gods you worship by sundown tomorrow.” Pulla growled before he spat at Vercingentorix’s feet in disgust.
“Perhaps. In that case, maybe we shall meet again.” He nodded to the warrior behind the Centurion, who swiftly pulled his dagger and slit the Roman officers throat.
“Legionare. You are free to go. Though, I would suggest not rejoining your fellows to the south if you value that freedom and your life.” Vercingentorix walked over to the other prisoner and untied the rope from around his neck and shoved him off the mound. “Togidubnus, escort him to the gate, and make sure he is not harmed.”
After a moment, the celtic leader continued, “Instead of performing the assault as I described earlier. We shall invert it. And press our attack to the right instead of the left flank of the Roman force. I will now hear questions or thoughts that any of you wish to express.”
One of the chiefs to Bruce and Baxxs’ left stood, Bruce recalled his name was Travillinus, “High Chief, let me first offer the sympathy of all the Bituriges to the honoured chief of the Boernici, we shall honour his lost tribesman and their allies with our victory tomorrow. My question is, how does your plan mean to counter the threat of the Romans slingers, archers and cavalry that may be on the right flank?” He remained standing as a sign of respect and gratitude for the response he was to receive.
“Our allies from Rheatia and southern Germania will provide an ample distraction for them.” Vercingentorix said with a nod. The true size of their eastern column was only known to a small few.
After a few more tactical questions revolving around when the charioteers should assemble in the left, and what to do about the reports of Numidian Calvary cohorts roaming to their southwest almost brought the meeting the meeting to a close, when Vercingetorix raised a finger and said, “There is the relief and supply column heading out at first light, I will be returning to the army in the field tonight, but anyone who wishes to participate in or view the coming battle should report to the south gate before then. The column is being organized by the Remi Confederacy, and I would like to thank them for their generosity in the supply of arms and management of our food supplies.”
The chieftain of the Remi, who was seated next to their host, rose and stepped forward. “We are happy to serve the cause, High King. We would like to offer our grieving allies from the Boernici the honour of leading the column out on the morrow.”
“In light of all that they have lost, that is a fitting gesture, when you arrive in the field, please ride over to the knoll behind the centre of our army and join me, your mounted warriors and the survivors of Boernici may join my party for our historic victory. We shall form a cavalry reserve and support the left at the decisive moment.” Vercingetorix crossed his hand over his chest and gave a slight bow, which the Remi Chief reciprocated. Both men along with most of the rest then turned to the two newcomers.
Bruce hesitated for a moment, but then realized that if Baxx tried to respond with his lack of knowledge of the era, or what they had even said, they’d likely end up like the poor Centurion whose lifeless body still laid on the mound behind Vercingentorix.
The Risan resident slowly rose to his feet, “I am Brussilanus, my chief does not speak the southern tongue well, but we would like to thank both of you for your kind gestures, and words of sympathy for our loss. But… we have no horses, or much of anything else. We were captured on our way here by the Romans to the west along the coast, and the three of us only escaped yesterday.”
Vercingetorix turned to one of the aides standing beside the mound, “Supply them with horses and tack from our stables.”
“An allied chief and his men will not walk on this dusty ground in my presence. You honour your lost brethren by joining us in our righteous retribution.” Vercingetorix made a strange hand gesture and palmed his chest.
Bruce crossed his hand over his chest and bowed, hoping it would suffice as a proper response. ‘We need to figure out what happened to our clan, and maybe milk some monetized sympathy out of them. Sounds bad whatever it is.’
“I propose we adjourn on that note, my fellow chiefs.” the man on the mound said.
“I will second.” Netoranus of the Suessones rose and said.
“Any opposed?” After hearing none, the party began to disperse and make ready for the fight the next morning.
As the two ‘Boernicians’ joined Betilus and a few others and began walking back to their lodgings, Bruce overheard someone mention that ‘the sea was a tumult of breakers that day’ and he heard ‘only 4 ships made it back to Britannica’ when they passed. And then Bruce finally remembered where he got the tribes name from, he had read in a history text that large a fleet of ships from the Pictish area of northern British was caught in a storm and shipwrecked, and the Boernici had, in a instant, lost a large portion of its fighting aged male population. It just happened, by pure luck, that they had arrived shortly after that exact moment in history.
