Chapter 197 : Lightning & Thunder

"So when is Caesar scheduled to arrive?"

"According to the latest dispatch, he will be here shortly."

From Pisae to Luna and on to Genua. The cities of northern Italy received a sudden, urgent summons.

"For Caesar to come in person so suddenly... What on earth could have happened?"

The urgent dispatches went to Caesar’s local post-office branches in each city.

They were responsible not only for the postal lines but also for maintaining security along the local roads. To that end, each branch kept couriers’ mounts and spare patrol horses stabled at all times.

Yet Lucius Caesar had suddenly demanded every single one of those horses.

"Could he be conducting a surprise inspection of our post offices?"

"Perhaps. Make sure everything is prepared without a single flaw."

The postmasters of each city scrambled to make preparations.

After meticulously reviewing their ledgers and personnel, they stood waiting eagerly for the young Caesar’s arrival.

"There he is!"

"Caesar, welcome to our branch! If you will come this way, we have prepared refreshments and other..."

"Thank you, but unfortunately, we haven’t a moment to spare. Are the horses ready?"

"Yes, sir! Prepared exactly as ordered. If you require anything else, please—"

"Thank you. More men will be arriving after us shortly. We will leave our spent mounts here. When the men behind us arrive, swap their horses for fresh ones as well."

Caesar and his company swiftly transferred their saddles to the fresh horses and spurred them into a dead gallop.

The postmaster and couriers could only stare blankly at the dust cloud receding into the distance.

"What in the name of the gods is happening?"

***

Eight days.

That was how long it had taken us to travel from Rome to Genava.

"I see Genava ahead!"

"Great Jupiter above! We survived!"

Every rider, myself included, let out a ragged gasp of relief. Not a single man laughed or cheered.

We were simply overwhelmed with relief at having arrived alive.

"We finally made it, Faustus."

Faustus gave a vigorous bark, brimming with the same energy he had on our first day out.

He was undoubtedly the only one on this entire journey who wasn’t half-dead from exhaustion.

For the vast majority of the ride, he had traveled comfortably tucked inside a leather satchel secured to the front of my saddle.

Antony and young Metellus, on the other hand, looked like they were on the verge of passing out cold.

And who could blame them?

As long as the sun was in the sky, we rode practically without pause, and there were few nights when we managed more than a couple of hours of proper sleep.

Each rider led several spare horses, swapping mounts as we rode and exchanging them for fresh steeds whenever we reached a major town.

It was a blistering pace worthy of the Mongol hordes at their peak.

Finally, we could see the town of Genava perched atop a commanding hill.

Below the hill to the north stretched the vast expanse of Lake Lemannus, its clear waters narrowing beside the settlement to become the Rh?ne River, flowing steadily westward. A modest harbor sat at the lake’s outlet.

Timber and daub houses dotted the town.

At the base of the hill lay a fortified camp unmistakably Roman in design.

The sentries spotted us and marched forward, muttering in confusion.

"Were we expecting anyone today?"

"They look like Romans. Merchants, perhaps?"

"They don’t have baggage wagons. Can’t be merchants."

"I heard a rumor that Caesar was riding this way."

"Don’t be ridiculous. How could anyone from Rome be here already?"

I slipped my feet from the stirrups and dismounted.

"I have come to see Governor Pomptinus. Where is he?"

"State your name first."

"Lucius Julius Caesar," I said, looking at the stunned guards.

My head was spinning so violently I felt like I might collapse on the spot, but I straightened my back and forced myself to remain upright.

"Son of Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul and Pontifex Maximus of Rome."

***

After ordering my men to rest, I followed a centurion toward the command tent alone.

"Welcome to Genava, Lucius Julius Caesar."

A stocky, broad-shouldered man looked up from a campaign map.

Every officer inside the command tent looked my way.

They were Gaius Pomptinus, Governor of Gallia Transalpina, and his legates.

"To be completely honest, I never imagined you would arrive this quickly. When I received the dispatch stating you were riding north, I never believed you could arrive this quickly."

"I departed the moment word of the Helvetian migration reached Rome, Governor."

"Yes. We mobilized the legion the moment we received word as well. In truth, we only arrived here a few days ago ourselves," Pomptinus said.

"To think you covered the distance from Rome almost as quickly as we did. You are putting our own marching pace to shame."

"I came with only a small cavalry vanguard. The rest are following, but it will take them time to reach the frontier."

"Over three hundred cavalrymen in total, according to your dispatch. It’s hard to believe you gathered such a force on your own."

"Yet Lucius has brought merely sixty horsemen with him today. Bringing untested recruits into our ranks will only burden us," one of the legates remarked with a skeptical glance.

"Unless we use them as couriers, of course."

"I have come solely to assist the Governor in whatever capacity is required," I said. I had no intention of demanding command simply because I arrived with men.

Once Pompey secured his imperium, that issue would resolve itself anyway.

My purpose was to provide tactical intelligence, buy time until Pompey arrived with the main legions, and, if possible, halt the Helvetian migration in its tracks.

"I will temporarily place your detachment under my overall command, but you will retain direct command of your men. If these are men you personally trained, it is far better that you command them than some unfamiliar officer. That much lies within my discretion, young Caesar," Pomptinus said.

"I must thank you for bringing us aid so swiftly. Right now, every single sword counts."

"I am merely doing my duty as a Roman citizen."

I stepped closer to the tactical table.

Wooden markers representing rivers, topography, and troop deployments were scattered across the map.

"What is the current situation?"

***

Genava belonged to the territory of the Allobroges.

They had been brought under provincial rule following their defeat by Rome in 121 BC, yet their submission had never been absolute.

They had rebelled only a few years ago, and the very man who had crushed that uprising was standing right before me: Pomptinus.

"And now the Helvetii are marching our way. If we make a misstep, the whole of Transalpine Gaul could be thrown into chaos."

Having finished his briefing, Pomptinus looked at me.

"What do you believe our course of action should be, Lucius?"

"It is straightforward."

Testing me, are you?

I placed a finger on a specific point on the map.

Genava sat at the outlet of Lake Lemannus, where the lake emptied into the swift currents of the Rh?ne.

Below Genava, a wooden bridge spanned the Rh?ne, wide enough for large baggage wagons to cross with ease.

"First, we destroy the bridge to prevent the Helvetii from crossing the Rhodanus River. Then, we construct forts along the southern bank to deny them any chance to ford the river."

This was exactly the defensive strategy Father had used in the original timeline.

For the Helvetii to push into central Gaul, only two routes existed.

They could either cross the Rhodanus here into Roman territory or march westward through the narrow defile running between the Rh?ne and the rugged Jura Mountains.

In the original timeline, once denied the river crossing, the Helvetii secured permission from the Sequani to pass through the defile.

Caesar had been forced to pursue them deep into the interior before bringing them to a decisive battle.

Hearing my assessment, the legates nodded in agreement.

"Our thoughts align. The legionaries are already prepared to dismantle the bridge. Work will begin shortly. The main Helvetian force is still several days away from the river. They have many women and children to escort."

"Once our defensive line along the river is established, forcing a crossing over the Rhodanus will be impossible. Instead, they will attempt to pass through the Jura defile—the territory of the Sequani."

"We received intelligence that several Sequani nobles recently visited the Helvetii. But I’m not sure their alliance will hold..."

"The Sequani, the Aedui, and the Helvetii have formed an alliance. At least, factions within each of them have. That confirms it." I said.

A heavy silence descended upon the tent.

"Yet the Sequani and the Aedui are bitter enemies. Why would they join hands?"

"To check us—to check Rome."

A Gallic version of the Triumvirate, so to speak.

Just like Rome, the tribes here were far from monolithic.

Each tribe was divided among competing political factions.

And currently, the anti-Roman factions were rapidly seizing power.

Casticus of the Sequani.

Dumnorix of the Aedui.

Those two were undoubtedly cooperating. And now that they had acquired black powder, their confidence must have been soaring.

"We must establish a defensive line at the Jura defile in advance to deny their passage."

"However, our current numbers are woefully inadequate for that. We have only two legions available here, and two additional legions are still being levied..." Pomptinus let out a heavy sigh.

"We cannot afford to split our forces and garrison the defile right now."

"You do not need to detach any legionaries, Governor. My men and I can handle it."

"With sixty horsemen? Do you fancy yourself King Leonidas of Sparta, holding a narrow pass against an overwhelming horde?"

"I have no interest in playing the martyr," I replied with a wry grin.

"You have undoubtedly heard of the Powder of Vesta."

Before leaving Rome, I had loaded our pack horses with as much of one particular substance as they could carry.

Black powder.

We carried only the armor and weapons we needed, leaving as much room as possible for the powder."

Everything else could be requisitioned locally on the frontier, but black powder could not.

It wasn’t an enormous quantity, but gathered together, it was more than enough to fill several heavy wooden casks.

However, using raw powder directly in combat was tricky.

Unless packed into bombards or specialized casings, loose powder was of little use in a melee.

Yet there was one particular use for which black powder was unmatched.

A purpose for which it is still widely used even in the twenty-first century.

"There is no need to plug the defile with living men when a much simpler option exists," I said.

"We simply destroy the road completely."

***

Three days later, the advance guard of the Helvetii entered the Jura pass.

They marched in a long column along the narrow defile winding beneath the towering peaks of the Jura Mountains.

To their left rushed the swift, treacherous waters of the Rhodanus River; to their right rose the sheer, impassable limestone cliffs like an unbroken wall of stone.

"Are you certain the Sequani granted us safe passage through their lands?"

"One of their leading nobles reached an agreement with our chieftain. They promised to turn a blind eye and let us through."

"The pass seems completely deserted."

"The Roman swine are too busy digging trenches along the Rhodanus to worry about this gorge."

Unopposed, they advanced through the narrow corridor.

Once they secured the choke point, the massive Helvetian host following behind could march through.

"Let’s dispatch a runner back to the main body. Once we clear this pass, the road ahead is wide open."

"Understood."

Right then, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from high above the gorge.

A rhythmic clang, like iron striking stone.

"What is that noise?"

"Sounds like it’s coming from the top of the cliffs."

The scouts reined in their horses, straining to hear.

Yet when the sound faded into the wind, they shrugged and urged their mounts forward once more.

Meanwhile, atop the cliff directly above them, men dressed in wool tunics peered over the edge, holding iron sledgehammers and long iron drill rods.

"Their vanguard has entered the gorge. Stop drilling! That’s deep enough," Centurion Vorenus said, wiping away the sweat that stung his eyes.

He gestured to the men behind him.

"Pack the powder into the boreholes."

The men hurriedly pulled out the iron rods. For the past few days, they had been hammering drill rods into carefully chosen fissures along the rock face, boring deep cylindrical holes into the limestone cliff.

As engineers pulled out pouches of black powder, the legionaries fell back to a safe distance.

"Pack the powder in tight and tamp it down with damp clay! Make sure the flame doesn’t escape through the top!"

"They’re ready, Centurion!"

"Good. Let’s bring this mountain down."

Vorenus waved his arm in a sweeping arc and roared.

"Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!"

Moments later.

A deafening, earth-shattering crack split the air as a massive section of the limestone cliff sheared away and plunged toward the defile below.