O thou, whom Varius loved more than his eyes,
Thy Varius, wandering beneath the rainy sky of Galata ...
And the couple sang in their golden cage of gold.
. . . . . . . . .
O my white Phœbe, with prudent hand give
Millet and fresh water to thy frail captive.
She sits, she is a mother: a mother is timid.
. . . . . . . . .
Oh! come not to the misty Ocean's strand,
Phœbe, for fear ...
... Thy white feet and thy limbs
So nimbly moving to the crotalum's rhythm.
. . . . . . . . .
And neither the gold of Crœsus nor the purple of Attala,
But thy fresh arms, thy breasts....
A faint sound ascended from the waking town. Past the remnants of the
Gallic huts where a few barbarians, fierce though of humble rank, were
still lurking in the trenches, the Atrebate fled, and through a breach
in the wall he leapt into the open country.
5
When, through the legionaries' sword, the lictor's lashes and Cæsar's
flattering words Gaul was at length completely pacified, Marcus
Antonius, the quaestor, came to take up his winter quarters in
Nemetacum of the Atrebates. He was the son of Julia, Cæsar's sister.
His functions were those of paymaster to the troops. It was for him,
also, to apportion the booty captured, in accordance with established
rules. This booty was immense; for the conquerors had discovered bars
of gold and carbuncles under the stones of sacred places, in the
hollows of oaks and in the still water of pools; they had collected
golden utensils from the huts of exterminated tribes and their chiefs.
Marcus Antonius brought with him many scribes and land surveyors who
set to work upon the apportionment of lands and movable goods, and
would have perpetrated many useless writings had not Cæsar prescribed
for them simple and rapid methods of procedure. Merchants from Asia,
workmen, lawyers and other settlers came in crowds to Nemetacum; and
the Atrebates who had quitted their town returned one by one, curious,
astonished, filled with wonder. The Gauls, for the most part, were now
proud to wear the toga and to speak the tongue of the magnanimous sons
of Remus. Having shaved off their long moustaches they had resembled
Romans. Those who had succeeded in retaining any wealth employed a
Roman architect to build them a house with an inner porch, rooms for
the women and a fountain adorned with shell-work. They had paintings
of Hercules, Mercury and the Muses in their dining-room, and would sup
reclining on couches.
Komm, though himself illustrious and the son of an illustrious father,
had lost most of his followers. Nevertheless he refused to submit,
and led a wandering, warlike life in company with a few fighting-men
who were addicted to plunder and rape, or who, like their chief, were
possessed of a keen desire for liberty or of hatred for the Romans.
They followed him into impenetrable forests, into marshes and even into
those moving islands which occur in the broad estuaries of rivers.
They were entirely devoted to him, but they addressed him without
respect, as a man speaks to his equal, because they were actually his
equals in courage, in the extremes of continual hardships, of poverty
and wretchedness. They dwelt in trees or in the clefts of rocks. They
sought out caverns worn in the friable stone by the water gushing
down narrow valleys. When there were no beasts to hunt, they fed on
blackberries and arbutus berries. They were excluded from towns by
their fear of the Romans or by the vigilance of the Roman guards. In
few villages were they readily received. Komm, however, always found a
welcome in the huts scattered over the wind-swept sands which border
the lazy waters of the Somme estuary. The dwellers on these dunes fed
on fish. Poor, dishevelled, buried among the blue thistles of their
barren soil, they had had no experience of Roman might. They received
Komm and his companions into their subterranean abodes, which were
covered with reeds and stones rounded by the Ocean. They listened to
him attentively, having never heard any man talk so well. He said to
them:
"Know who are the friends of the Atrebates and the Morini who live on
the sea-shore and in the deep forest.
"The moon, the forest and the sea are the friends of the Morini and the
Atrebates. And neither the sea nor the forest nor the moon loves the
little dark men who follow Cæsar.
"Now the sea said to me: 'Komm, I am hiding the ships of the Veneti in
a lonely cove on my shore.'
"The forest said to me: 'Komm, I will provide a secure shelter for thee
who art an illustrious chieftain, and for thy faithful companions.'
"The moon said to me: 'Komm, thou hast seen me in the isle of the
Britons shattering the Roman ships. I command the clouds and the winds,
and I will refuse to shine upon the drivers of the chariots which bear
victuals to the Romans of Nemetacum, in order that thou mayest take
them by surprise in the darkness of the night.'
"Thus spoke unto me the sea, the forest and the moon. And this I bid
you:
"Leave your boats and your nets and come with me. You will all be
chiefs in war and of great renown. We shall fight great and profitable
battles. We shall win victuals, treasure and women in abundance. Behold
in what manner:
"I know so completely the whole country of the Atrebates and the Morini
that there is not a single river, nor pool, nor rock with the situation
of which I am unacquainted. And likewise every road, every path with
its exact length and its precise direction lies as clear in my mind as
upon the soil of our ancestors. Great and royal indeed must be my mind
thus to encompass the whole land of the Atrebates. But know that many
another country is likewise contained in it--the lands of the Britons,
the Gauls and the Germans. Wherefore, had it been given me to command
the peoples, I should have conquered Cæsar and driven the Romans out
of this country. Wherefore we, you and I who speak, shall surprise
the couriers of Marcus Antonius and the convoys of food destined for
the town which has been reft from me. We shall surprise them without
difficulty, for I know along which roads they travel, and their
soldiers will not discover us since they know not the roads we shall
take. And were they to follow on our tracks, we should escape from them
in the ships of the Veneti, which would bear us to the isle of the
Britons."
With such words Komm inspired his hosts with confidence on the misty
sea-shore. And he finally won them over by giving them pieces of gold
and iron, the last vestiges of the treasure which had once been his.
They said to him:
"We will follow thee wherever it please thee to lead us."
He led them by unknown ways to the edge of the Roman road. When he saw
horses grazing on the bush grass near the abode of a rich man, he gave
them to his companions.
Thus he gathered together a body of horsemen which was joined by those
of the Atrebates who desired to wage war for the sake of booty, and by
some deserters from the Roman camp. The latter Komm did not receive,
in order not to break the oath which he had sworn never again to look
a Roman in the face save to slay him. But he had them questioned by
some one of intelligence, and dismissed them with food for three days.
Sometimes all the male folk of a village, young and old, entreated
him to receive them as his followers. These men had been completely
despoiled by the tax-gatherers of Marcus Antonius, who in addition to
the imposts which Cæsar levied had demanded others, which were not
due, and had fined chiefs for imaginary offences. In short, these
publicans, after filling the coffers of the State, took care to enrich
themselves at the expense of barbarians whom they thought a stupid
people, and whose importunate complaints could always be silenced by
the executioner's axe. Komm chose the strongest of these men. The
others were dismissed, despite their tears and their entreaties not
to be left to die of hunger or at the hands of the Romans. He did not
wish for a great army, because he did not wish to wage a great war as
Vercingétorix had done.
In a few days he had, with his little band, captured several convoys of
flour and cattle, massacred isolated legionaries up to the very walls
of Nemetacum and terrified the Roman population of the town.
"These Gauls," said the tribunes and centurions, "are cruel barbarians,
mockers of the gods, enemies of the human race. Scorning their plighted
word, they offend the majesty of Rome and of Peace. They deserve to be
made an example. We owe it to humanity to chastise these criminals."
The complaints of the settlers and the cries of the soldiers penetrated
into the quæstor's tribunal. At first Marcus Antonius paid no heed
to them. In well-heated, well-closed halls he was busied with actors
and courtesans who were representing on the stage the works of that
Hercules whom he resembled in feature, in the cut of his short curly
beard, and in the vigour of his limbs. Clothed in a lion's skin, club
in hand, Julia's robust son threw fictitious monsters to the ground and
with his arrow pierced a false hydra. Then, suddenly exchanging the
lion's pelt for Omphale's robe, he likewise changed his passion.
Meanwhile convoys were being intercepted, bands of soldiers surprised,
harried and put to flight, and one morning the centurion, G. Fusius,
was found hanging disembowelled from a tree near the Golden Gate.
In the Roman camp it was known that the author of this brigandage was
Commius, formerly king by the grace of Rome, now a robber chieftain.
Marcus Antonius commanded energetic action to be taken in order to
assure the safety of soldiers and settlers. And, foreseeing that
the crafty Gaul would not easily be captured, he bade the Proctor
straightway to make some terrible example. In order to carry out his
chief's design, the Proctor caused the two richest Atrebates in the
city of Nemetacum to be brought before his tribunal.
One was by name Vergal, the other Ambrow. Both were of illustrious
birth, and they had been the first of their tribe to make friends with
Cæsar. Poorly rewarded for their prompt submission, robbed of all their
honours and of a great part of their wealth, ceaselessly annoyed by
coarse centurions and covetous lawyers, they had ventured to whisper a
few complaints. Imitating the Romans and wearing the toga, they lived
in Nemetacum, vain and simple-minded, proud and humiliated. The Proctor
examined them, condemned them to suffer the traitors' death and on that
very day handed them over to the lictors. They died doubting Roman
justice.
Thus did the quaestor by his firmness banish fear from the hearts of
the settlers, who presented him with a laudatory address. The municipal
councillors of Nemetacum, blessing his paternal vigilance and his
piety, decreed that a bronze statue should be raised in his honour.
After this several Roman merchants, having ventured out of the town,
were surprised and slain by Komm's horsemen.
6
The prefect of the body of cavalry stationed at Nemetacum of the
Atrebates was Caius Volusenus Quadratus, the same who had formerly
enticed King Commius into a trap and had said to the centurions of
his escort: "When I hold out my hand as a sign of friendship you
will strike from behind." Caius Volusenus Quadratus was held in high
esteem in the army because of his obedience to the call of duty and
his unflinching courage. He had received rich rewards and enjoyed the
honours due to military virtue. Marcus Antonius appointed him to hunt
down Commius.
Volusenus zealously carried out the mission confided to him. He planned
ambuscades for Komm, and, keeping in constant touch with his robber
bands, harassed them incessantly. Meanwhile the Atrebate, a cunning
master of guerilla warfare, wore out the Roman cavalry by his swift
movements and surprised isolated soldiers. As a matter of religious
sentiment he slew his prisoners, trusting thus he propitiate the gods.
But the gods hide their thoughts as well as their countenances. And
it was after one of these pious performances that Komm fell into the
greatest danger. Wandering in the land of the Morini, he had just slain
by night on a stone in the forest two young and handsome prisoners,
when on issuing from the wood he and all his men were surprised by the
cavalry of Volusenus, which, being better armed and better skilled in
manœuvring, surrounded him and killed many of his warriors and their
horses. He succeeded, however, in making his escape, accompanied by the
bravest and the cleverest of the Atrebates. They fled; they galloped
at full speed over the plain, towards the beach where the misty Ocean
rolls its pebbles over the sand. And, looking round, they saw the Roman
helmets gleaming far behind them.
Komm had a fair hope of escaping. His horses were swifter and less
heavily laden than the enemy's. He reckoned on reaching in time the
boats awaiting him in a neighbouring cove, and with his faithful
followers making for the land of the Britons.
Thus thought the chief, and the Atrebates rode in silence. Now a drop
in the ground on a clump of dwarf-trees would hide the horsemen of
Volusenus. Then on the immense grey plain the two companies would again
come in sight of one another, but separated by an increasingly wide
interval. The pale bronze helmets were outdistanced and Komm could
distinguish naught to the rear save a cloud of dust moving on the
horizon. Already the Gauls were breathing with delight the salt sea
air. But as they drew nigh the shore the dusty incline caused the pace
of the Gallic horses to slacken, and Volusenus began to gain on them.
Faint, almost imperceptible, the sound of Roman voices was caught by
the keen ears of the barbarians, when, beyond the wind-bent larches,
they first descried from the summit of a dune the masts of ships that
lay gathered in the bend of the lonely shore. They uttered one long cry
of joy. And Komm congratulated himself on his prudence and good luck.
But, having begun their descent to the beach, they paused half-way
down, seized with fear and horror, as they perceived the fine boats of
the Veneti, broad keeled, lofty of stem and stern, now high and dry
on the sand, there to remain for many a long hour, while far away in
the distance gleamed the waves of the low tide. At this sight they sat
inertly, stricken dumb, stooping over their steaming horses, which with
muscles relaxed bowed their heads to the land breeze which blinded them
as it blew their long manes into their eyes.
In the confusion and the silence resounded the voice of the chief
crying:
"To the ships, horsemen! The wind is good! To the ships!"
They obeyed without understanding. And, pushing on to the ships, Komm
bade them unfurl the sails. They were the skins of beasts dyed bright
colours. No sooner were they unfurled than the rising wind filled the
sails.
The Gauls wondered what could be the object of this manœuvre and
whether the chief hoped to see the stout oaken keels ploughing through
the sand of the beach as if it were the water of the Ocean. Some
thought there might yet be time for flight, others of meeting death
while slaying the Romans.
Meanwhile Volusenus, at the head of his horsemen men, was climbing the
hill which borders on the pebbled, sandy shore. Rising from the bottom
of the cove he saw the masts of the ships of the Veneti. Perceiving the
sails unfurled and filled with a favourable wind, he bade his troops
halt, called down obscene curses on the head of Commius, groaned over
his horses, which had perished in vain, and, turning bridle, commanded
his men to return to camp.
"What is the good," he thought, "of pursuing the bandits any farther?
Commius has embarked. He has set sail, and, borne by such a wind, he is
already far beyond the reach of the javelin."
Soon afterwards Komm and the Atrebates reached the thickets and the
moving islands, which they filled with the sound of their heroic
laughter.
Six months later Komm again took the field. One day Volusenus surprised
him, with a score of horsemen, on open ground. With the prefect was
about an equal number of men and horses. He gave the order to attack.
The Atrebate, whether he feared his inability to meet the charge, or
whether he planned some stratagem, signed to his followers to flee, and
himself wildly dashed across the immense plain in a long, galloping
flight, hard pressed by Volusenus. Then, suddenly, he turned, and,
followed by his Gauls, threw himself furiously on the Prefect of the
Horse and, with one thrust of his lance, pierced his thigh. At the
sight of their general struck down the Romans fled in amazement. Then
the discipline of their military training asserted itself, enabling
them to overcome the natural instinct of fear; they returned to pick up
Volusenus just as Komm, full of a fierce delight, was pouring upon him
the most ferocious insults. The Gauls could not withstand the little
Roman band, which, forming a compact mass, charged them vigorously and
slew or captured the greater number. Commius almost alone escaped,
thanks to his horse's speed.
Volusenus was carried back in a dying state to the Roman camp. But,
thanks to the leech's art or the strength of his own constitution, he
recovered from his wound. In this fray Commius had lost everything,
his faithful warriors and his hatred. Satisfied with his vengeance,
henceforth tranquil and content, he sent a messenger to Marcus
Antonius. This messenger, having been admitted to the quæstor's
tribunal, spoke thus:
"Marcus Antonius, King Commius promises to appear in any place which
shall be indicated to him, to do all that thou shalt command and to
give hostages. One thing only he asks--that he shall be spared the
disgrace of ever appearing before a Roman."
Marcus Antonius was magnanimous.
"I understand," said he, "that Commius may be somewhat disgusted by his
interviews with our generals. I excuse him from ever appearing before
any of us. I grant him his pardon; and I receive his hostages."
What happened afterwards to Komm of the Atrebates is unknown; the rest
of his life cannot be traced.