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watching the men board ship for Ariminium by nightfall. We can be in Massilia en masse in eight or nine days if all goes well.’
    Ingenuus saluted, tearing his eyes from the new recruits back to the huge map on the wall, where they picked out the names of the known tribes north of Narbo. There seemed to him to be an awful lot of them between Roman territory and the Arverni, not to mention apparently a range of mountains.
    He muttered a silent prayer to Minerva as he bowed his acquiescence to the proconsul.
     

Chapter 2
     
    The Bituriges oppidum of Avaricon (Modern Bourges)
     
    Vercingetorix stretched and scratched his chin thoughtfully, keen eyes peering out into the chilly, damp morning. ‘What is the word from the scouts?’
    Vergasillaunus rubbed tired eyes, but his expression was full of alertness and energy as he dragged his gaze from the oppidum in front of them and across to his cousin and ruler.
    ‘It seems that we have them sealed in tight.’
    ‘With the exception of the riders.’
    Vergasillaunus nodded and Critognatos, who stood with his usual glower, curled a sneering lip. ‘You were foolish to let those horsemen go.’
    The two cousins turned their gaze on the third chieftain present. ‘Everything I do is for a reason, Critognatos,’ the Arverni king said calmly, his smooth voice given counterpoint by the crows that filled the trees above the camp and cawed out their displeasure at this intrusion into their world.
    ‘Your reasoning baffles me, Vercingetorix. Those riders were sent to seek aid for the Bituriges before we had them trapped. We could have had this place sealed up tighter than a Roman’s arse and the populace in a panic, but because you let them get past, the men of Avaricon simply sit smug and await the arrival of the Aedui to save them.’
    Vergasillaunus grinned. ‘You think the Aedui will rush to their aid?’
    ‘Of course they will. And it’s been two days now. I’m surprised they’re not here already, trying to stick spears in us. The Bituriges owe their allegiance to the Aedui, and they’re all oathbound to Rome. We’ve a strong army here, but it won’t be when we get trapped between the walls of Avaricon and the Aedui rescue force and ground like meal in a grindstone.’
    Vercingetorix peered across at the oppidum, rising from the mist that concealed unpleasant, sucking death. He and his sizeable force had encamped on a hill to the east of the Bituriges’ capital with a view across the intervening shallow valley. The Biturige oppidum was well positioned on a hill situated within the confluence of two rivers which spread out and meandered to turn much of the surrounding landscape into marshland that was effectively uncrossable by an army. Nature had given Avaricon superb defences, and the Bituriges had augmented them with powerful walls and towers surrounding the hill and the settlement upon it. It was said that the granaries of Avaricon were so full and rich that the city would live a year without a fresh harvest. The only true access for an attacking army was this one: from the hill where they now stood, down into the valley and back up the other side, where they would dash themselves to pieces on the heavy walls while the Bituriges dropped rocks on them. It was a siege that no commander would wish to undertake, and Vercingetorix had no more wish to throw his army on those walls than any other general.
    And so the bulk of the Gallic army had settled here, on the damp slope, sending out forays to set up small camps and patrols in a circuit around the place and make sure no further defenders managed to sneak out between the swamps and marshes. The riders’ escape had been part of the plan, but now isolation and uncertainty were required among the Bituriges within those walls. They had to be primed ready for the surprise the Arverni leader had in store.
    With the enduring patience he saved for his more outspoken and imprudent chieftains, Vercingetorix turned to Critognatos