by R. W. Peake
“Silete!”
The Pilus Prior seemed more irritable than usual, and I wondered if even he was beginning to get nervous about what was going on. With the artillery all concentrating their fire on the gate, it did not take long before it crashed open, one of the doors hanging by what appeared to be a thread from a distance. Immediately afterwards, the bucina and cornu sounded the advance at the double and the First Cohort peeled away, jogging towards the gates, followed by us, then the rest of the Legion.
“Keep your intervals you bastards,” roared the Pilus Prior as we drew closer, our eyes fastened on the parapets, waiting for men to suddenly pop up and start bombarding us with missiles. Fortunately it never happened; the First Cohort went sweeping through, followed by us immediately behind them, they fanning out to the left as planned, us fanning out to the right. Immediately we noticed that the area of the town surrounding the gate seemed to be deserted, except for a few old men and women, along with some people who looked infirm and weak. This town was arranged in such a manner that it was laid out in two levels; the original part of the town was built on the shelf of the hill and was fairly level, then as it grew, a second level had gotten added that was built further up the slopes of the hill. After a quick search of the lower town, we huffed and puffed up the narrow streets to the second level, finding only more old and sick people. All of these we put to the sword since they held no value as slaves.
It turned out that the only able-bodied men left were the few men on the parapet above the gate negotiating with first the Tribune, then with Caesar. As we descended back down, we saw them by the gate, bound and on their knees, surrounded by the officers and some of the senior Centurions. Despite their state, they looked up at the men surrounding them with defiant expressions, a couple of them even smiling, like they had won some sort of victory, which in a sense they had. It was only after one of them was summarily executed that the others began to talk, finally explaining how the inhabitants of a town, not only combatants but all of the citizens who lived there that could walk, had vanished. One of the men indicated a street that was very hard to spot, branching off the larger street on the side of the town nearest the ocean that led up to the upper town. Because of the stone construction, it blended in as part of the wall that the street followed and was not really visible until you were almost on top of it. Sending a Cohort down the road, they came to a sheltered cove, where the boats that had hauled the people across the river had been moored. With the upper part of the hill above this spot dropping off into a sheer face more than a hundred feet above the water, the approach to the drop was so steep that the men on top of the hill had no way to get close enough to look down and see the harbor. It turned out that even before the sun came up to shine on our army ready to assault the town, the Gallaeci had determined that there was no real way to stop us from taking it. Our reputation preceded us and they knew that we would not just go away until the town fell and once it did, all the people in it would suffer a terrible fate. Therefore, as soon as the sun went down, they began evacuating the place and the only reason the men on the parapet seemed to have a change of heart and ceded the town was because the last of the boats had just pulled away. By the time the last boat that left after the sun came up reached a point where they might have been seen by our men on the hill, their attention was turned completely on the town, this being when Caesar gave the order to make ready to fire on the town with their artillery. Despite ourselves, we held a grudging admiration for the guile and skill of the Gallaeci, even if it meant that we would have to face these same men again.
The town was sacked, except there was little of value left behind, and we were immediately given orders to break camp to resume our pursuit of the Gallaeci. Those Gallaeci who remained behind to stall us were tortured, but it became clear that they did not know where their compatriots were headed. Since they were under no illusion that they would escape their situation alive, there was no need for them to know where the rest of the tribe was headed. This was not good news, because it meant that we were forced to march along the coast, which in this part of Hispania is extremely hilly. While giving us a commanding view of the ocean and the area ahead, it also meant that our pace was considerably slowed, no matter how hard Caesar pushed us. The end of the campaign season was rapidly approaching, betrayed by the cooler nights and shorter days, and it was our baggage train that slowed us the most. At some point every man found himself, his shoulder hard up against the back of a wagon, pushing with all their might as the mules and oxen struggled to pull their load up each hill. In many ways, however, going down the hill presented more risk, since there was a danger of a wagon being too heavy for the beasts to control, so we would use ropes attached to the back of the wagon and act as a multi-man brake to keep the wagon from careening out of control down the hill and smashing into other wagons or our comrades. Despite it being a little more than 30 miles from the town to the spot where we finally caught sight of the Gallaeci, it still took the better part of four days to cover the distance.
When we finally found them, there was a collective groan from the entire army. Our scouts had come rushing back with some sort of news, but it was not until we crested a hill and looked down on what lay before us that we in the ranks saw what we were facing. There was a bay, with a deep inlet that crossed in front of us, cutting some few miles deep into the land, the bulk of Hispania being to our right. Out in the bay were a number of islands, three small ones arranged in a row, crossing to our front perpendicular to our line of march, all clearly deserted. Farther out past that were a pair of islands, arranged parallel to our direction, and much larger. One of them appeared to be deserted as well but even from a distance, the second island, even farther away, was clearly inhabited because of the smoke rising above it that signaled the presence of people. We had to make a sharp right turn in order to follow the inlet around to a point where we were opposite the larger islands and as we drew closer, more details appeared. The larger of the two islands is shaped like a crescent, with the open end facing away from us and on the low hills of the island we could see fortifications. There were a large number of boats of varying sizes pulled up onto the beach opposite where we stood and it did not take a military expert to know that this is where the Gallaeci had fled from the town. To make matters worse, soon after we arrived opposite the first island the scouts came back to inform us that further north, perhaps ten miles ahead, was another island that was fortified in a similar manner. We stood watching the low hills of the first island as the command group conferred and the mood was apprehensive, to put it mildly. Very few of us had any experience on the water, making the idea of getting in boats to be ferried over to either of these islands unappealing in the extreme. However, Caesar was not to be denied, and in truth, it did not make sense for us not to finish the job so we resigned ourselves to our fate and waited to see what we were supposed to do.
Our mounted scouts scoured the area of the inlet, along with another inlet opposite the second island, yet could not find any craft large or seaworthy enough to ferry us across the water to either island.
“Maybe he’ll call off an attack,” Vibius said hopefully, a sentiment that I answered with a snort of dismissal.
“Not very likely. We’ve just marched across the entire length of Hispania; do you really think Caesar is going to be denied now?”
Despite not liking what I said, neither could he argue and he knew it, just answering with a shake of his head as he viewed the expanse of water with trepidation. Caesar’s answer to the lack of boats was simple; we would make them. Once again we found ourselves finding, felling and dragging back trees that the engineers deemed suitable for our purposes. There were men with experience in shipbuilding who were put in charge of the work, with the rest of the Legions supplying the manual labor. It took a full week, and was done far enough up the inlet that results of our labor was not visible to the Gallaeci on the islands. While we were involved in this work, those Gallaeci that for whatever reas
on had not joined their comrades on the island did whatever they could to delay us, most commonly attempting to fire the boats at night. They managed to burn one, so after that raid we kept a constant vigil, forcing a lot of us who worked all day to go without much sleep at night as we stood guard. Despite the Gallaeci’s attempts, the work progressed until we had a dozen flat-bottomed barges, each of them able to hold two Centuries and an artillery piece. Meanwhile, the command group worked out the plan for the assault, deciding that our best chance was to cross at night, something that became a symbol of Caesar’s, the sudden movement that the enemy did not expect. However, a night attack requires a huge amount of coordination and not a little luck but as we were to learn, almost as much as his skill, Caesar was renowned for his good fortune and he never hesitated putting his faith in it during tough times. The 10th was chosen to lead the assault, with the First through Fourth Cohorts designated as the first group the boats would take across, and the decision was made to attack in three days’ time, there being no moon starting that night, a sword that cut both ways. It would make our approach harder to detect, but it also meant that the chances of a mistake were much greater. To help guide us a small group of men, using a boat commandeered from somewhere that was small enough to be harder to detect, would row over to the island the night before the assault, then remain hidden during the day. On the next night, at a pre-appointed time, they would light a shielded lantern on the beach only detectable from our spot out on the water to help guide us in. To further the subterfuge, the boats would not be brought down the inlet until after dark, requiring us to hurry to load up then row across to the island, using the lamp as our guide. It would require a minimum of foul-ups in order to be successful, and the fact that Caesar put his faith in us made us all the more determined.
When the night of the assault arrived, helping our cause was a heavy cloud cover, or at least so we thought. However, shortly before the boats were supposed to arrive it also began to rain, with the wind picking up, blowing off the ocean and directly into our faces. That made the trip down the inlet more difficult for the men selected to row the boats, so they arrived later than planned. By the time they pulled up onto the beach, the wind had increased so that the falling rain was almost horizontal and the waves had become increasingly choppy. Peering through the rainy dark at Vibius, I saw an expression of real apprehension that not even the gloom could conceal, bringing me a bit of comfort now that I knew he was as worried as I was. Both of us were country boys, our first glimpse of the ocean occurring on a training march from our camp at Scallabis several months earlier, while neither of us had been in so much as a rowboat, let alone a flat-bottomed troop transport. Calienus and the other veterans who had participated in amphibious operations with Pompey did their best to put us at ease, but their own looks of concern did nothing to assuage our fears. Being the First Century of the Second, we were one of the first to load up, bringing on board with us two artillery pieces, both scorpions, whereupon we rowed out a short distance then dropped anchor to wait for the other units to load up. Before much time passed, the violent bobbing made most of us sick, so the gunwales of the boat were lined with Legionaries puking their guts out. I am not ashamed to say that I was one of them; it was not until much later that I got my sea legs but even then, I did not, nor do I now like sea voyages of any duration. It took perhaps a third of a watch to load the rest of the Centuries of our four Cohorts into the boats, then we ran into another problem. With the rain getting steadily worse, it became so heavy that we could not see the beacon that was supposed to be guiding us to the island.
“If we can’t see the damn light, how can we know which way we’re going?” this was Didius’ voice, and for one of the few times I was in complete agreement. “For all we know, we may end up 20 miles out to sea, then what'll happen?”
“We’ll all drown, you idiot, what do you think will happen?” Even Calienus’ voice sound strained when he replied to Didius.
Vibius and I, as usual, were standing together and Vibius whispered to me, “Titus, I’m not going to lie. I’m scared to death.”
“Me too,” was all I could manage, before retching again, despite having lost everything in my stomach.
Ignoring the lack of a guiding light, the men at the oars began to heave when the order was given and once more, someone called out, “Jupiter Optimus Maximus, protect this Legion, soldiers all,” as we began making our way towards what we hoped was the island.
It took the better part of a third of a watch, with the men at the oars straining all the way, before we got close enough to the island for someone to see the lantern.
“There it is, off to the right,” I heard an excited voice call out.
“By the gods, we almost missed the damn island,” another voice exclaimed, and there was a chorus of agreement. If we had passed by with the island off to our right, we would have headed out to open sea and certain death by drowning.
“Well, at least we found the damn thing.” That was the Pilus Prior, who for once seemed as apprehensive as we were, not bothering to tell us to shut up once. Continuing, he told us, “Listen up, boys. You just saw how long it took us to get to this island. It won’t take them half as long to get back because the wind is at their back, but it'll take them just as long, if not longer to bring up the next four Cohorts. In fact, we’ll probably be on this island for at least a full watch by ourselves, so keep that in mind. No heroes; make sure we stay together because it’s darker than Pluto’s bunghole out here. Hopefully the boys on the island'll be able to point us in the right direction.”
“Pilus Prior, wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until the whole Legion is on the beach?”
I do not know who asked that but I believe that only the total darkness emboldened him to question our orders. What was even more surprising was that the Pilus Prior did not take offense. In fact, he agreed.
“Yes, it would make more sense, but that’s not our orders. Caesar has commanded that we begin the assault immediately, and that's what we’re going to do. The thing that worries me is that the artillery won’t be able to use the combustibles to start a fire in their defenses to give us light, so we’re going to have to be very careful and stay in formation. Make sure that nobody gets separated by keeping close enough to each other so that you’re touching. If you lose contact with someone on either side, call out immediately so they’ll know to close back in and get in contact, but by the gods keep your voices down when you do it.”
Answering him, it was just as we felt the bottom of the boat scraping the beach. Without waiting, Pilus Prior Crastinus called out, “All right boys, let’s go give these bastards some Roman iron. They escaped their fate once; we’re not going to let 'em get away a second time.”
With that, we heard a splash above the sound of the waves lapping at the beach as he jumped over the side, and immediately we began moving forward as we disembarked. Landing in thigh-deep water, I was thankful for my height because it was shockingly cold; if I was shorter the water would have hit a part of my body that never reacts well to anything cold touching it. I was assigned to help carry some of the pieces of the artillery ashore, so I grabbed what was handed to me before turning to wade the few paces to the shore. Immediately I bumped into someone, my bigger size knocking them down, and my heart sank when I heard the voice of the Pilus Prior cursing me, my mother, my father, and all my ancestors. Muttering an apology in a voice that I hoped he would not recognize, I skirted past him to get as far away as I could. It was impossible to see anything and the only way that we got organized was by calling out to each other, then following the sounds of voices. Doing this was only possible because of the rain and howling of the wind; if it had been quieter I do not know what we would have done. The rest of the men carrying the artillery pieces stumbled over and we began assembling them by feel. Hearing a curse, I recognized the voice as one of the men assigned as an artilleryman and asked him what the problem was.
“The torsion rope is compl
etely soaked. That means that it’s useless.”
This was not good news; not only would we be assaulting in the dark, without reinforcements, now we did not even have the help of at least one artillery piece. Immediately, a quick inventory discovered that all of the pieces had the same problem, leaving us without anything heavier than our javelins to assault the fortifications. Our Pilus Prior made his way over to Primus Pilus Favonius while we all stood there, shivering and miserable, having been ordered to leave our cloaks behind and take only our weapons. One thing that we had to be thankful for is that we were told to leave our leather covers on our shields; there is nothing quite as heavy or as useless as a water-soaked shield.
The Pilus Prior came back a bit later and called out, “Change of plans. We’re going to wait until the next Cohorts arrive to see if they had any better luck with their artillery. We’re not going to release all of the boats until we find out, so that we can send one back and tell the command group the situation and see what they want to do.”
While this made sense, and was something of a relief, it also meant that we had to sit huddled up as close to each other to keep warm and wait. When one is truly, thoroughly miserable, the hardest thing to do is to accurately gauge the time. You are sure that at least two full watches have gone by, only to learn that it is less than a quarter of that, and as we sat there, soaking wet and getting colder by the moment, we occupied ourselves with trying to guess how much time had passed. Of course, it was not long before there was betting going on, which I ignored, preferring instead to sit there trying to tell myself that this was making me stronger and would come in handy someday. It would turn out I was right, though it was a small comfort to be sure. With the arrival of the next boatloads and more men piling ashore, our officers informed the Centurions joining us of the situation. A quick check revealed that the artillery in this wave was in the same shape as ours, so the word was passed to the returning boats of the situation, with a request for further orders. More time passed and despite my discomfort, I dozed off somehow, because when the third wave arrived, I almost jumped out of my skin, prompting a laugh from Vibius. Just a few moments later, the Pilus Prior returned to inform us that the assault was going to be postponed until first light, and that the next wave would be bringing assault ladders with them so that we could scale the walls of the fortifications. Trying to make light of this news, we told each other that this was old stuff for us; we had done this before and it had turned out fine, except that my stomach, just beginning to recover from the boat trip, began twisting again. However, there was nothing that could be done and at least we would be doing it with some light to help us. Of course, it also meant that the Gallaeci would see us coming.