by R. W. Peake
By the time the Legion was assembled on the beach, with assault ladders, the rain that continued pouring down had caused us to get so cold that we were shaking uncontrollably and were unable to keep our teeth from chattering. When one man’s teeth are knocking about the sound is negligible, but when it is a complete Legion, it is impossible to describe the din. Our only comfort was that the wind was not abated, and it served to keep the noise we were making from reaching the ears of the enemy, or at least so we hoped. Huddled together, we tried to stay close enough to create a little more warmth, which was negligible. In the meantime we stared towards the east, in the direction of the mainland and the hills beyond, willing the appearance of the dawn so that we could get started. Nobody really talked much, there not being much to say, each of us retreating into our own thoughts, a characteristic common to all fighting men I have known as they wait to go into battle. Finally, Vibius nudged me and when I looked up, I saw the sky beginning to lighten and the Legion beginning to stir, whispers passed along alerting all of us that dawn was approaching. Not more than a few moments later, the order was quietly passed for us to stand up and get back into our formations, with the men designated to carry the assault ladders making their way over to the pile of them to grab one then returning to fall back in formation. Once more, I was selected to be one of the first over the wall, although I would not be second but fourth of the first section. For the hundredth time I checked that my sword was ready to slide out of the scabbard easily, then fiddled with the cords that kept my helmet firmly on my head. I tried to ignore the numbness in my extremities brought on by the cold and wet, stamping my feet to try getting some feeling back in them, as were most of the men around me. Straining my eyes, after a few moments I finally made out the outline of the wall in front of us, barely visible but unmistakable.
“Get ready boys,” the Pilus Prior whispered to us. “We’ll be going in shortly.”
Once the time passed we were motioned ahead, doing our best to move as silently as possible. There was one hidden blessing about the rain because it packed the sand of the beach and the area beyond it down so that we could walk on it without sinking down or stumbling, something that might have caused us to make enough noise that our presence was detected, even with the wind. Moving quickly into position a few paces away from the walls of the fortification, I saw that we were partway up a low hill. As we crouched, waiting for the command to move, I noticed that I was no longer cold; in fact, a warm trickle of sweat began moving down my back, mingling with the cold rain soaking my skin. Then there was a blast of a cornu, followed immediately by an explosion of sound as we all jumped up, roaring out the signal that death was approaching the Gallaeci. As one man, the Legion began running towards the wall. The light had increased sufficiently that we could see the dark forms of the few men standing on the ramparts, and even above our own cries we heard the shouts of alarm from them as they realized they were under attack. Reaching the wall, I ran to stand behind the ladder group I was assigned to, taking my place behind the men I was assigned to follow over the wall, thankful that I remembered the lessons I learned from the first time I had done this. Once the ladders touched the walls we scrambled up, still yelling at the top of our lungs, and in a matter of moments the parapet was cleared of any enemy. Jumping down into the fort, we swept past the crude shelters made of skins and wooden frames that housed not only the warriors but their women and children, while I could hear the screams and sobs of the women as we cut their men down without any mercy. They were caught completely by surprise; the weather had helped mask our plans and it also contributed to their sense of security, sure that we would not be crazy or stupid enough to brave crossing in such weather. The fight for the fort took less than a third of a watch, although it took longer for us to stop killing anyone and anything in our path. Our Centurions did their best to restore order, but as usual we had our blood up, and the fact that we had been subjected to the cold and rain, coupled with the rough crossing, did not help their cause.
“The more of these bastards you kill, the less slaves there'll be, and the less money for your own purses, you idiots.” Pilus Prior Crastinus was repeating this over and over as he trotted around, bashing us with his vitus to emphasize his point, but it still took quite some time before the slaughter and rape stopped. The surviving Gallaeci were rounded up and put under guard, where they sat on the ground, watched by a Cohort, the women wailing, the children crying and the men who survived staring at us with undisguised hatred. None of them held any illusions about their fate; they were headed to the slave markets around the Republic, where children would be separated from their parents, husbands from their wives, and families split asunder to feed our insatiable need for slaves. The “lucky” ones would be sent to some household somewhere, and in all likelihood actually live a better life than they had now, although I could understand how they would not see it that way. However, they chose to revolt against Rome, and by doing so, sealed their fate. I was finding that the more I was exposed to this type of misery, the less I was affected by it.
There was now just one island left, north of the fort we had just taken. It was a much larger island and less hilly, so the fortifications on it were more elaborate, with the garrison and people sheltering within its walls in much larger numbers than the first fort. In fact, their works gave every appearance of having been in place for some time, and that the Gallaeci had made even more improvements to the fortifications after their arrival. For example, there was a double wall now instead of a single one, with a defensive ditch in between, sown with a number of obstacles. The outer wall had wooden towers at intervals along it, with sloping roofs and firing slits, making knocking them out difficult, while the inner wall surrounded a low hill that was the dominant feature of the island, and it was within the second wall that all of the defenders and their families were located. The rumor was that there were more than 5,000 warriors, along with another 15,000 people within the fortification, and these numbers did not make us feel any better. Add to that the fact that this was their last bastion and would be the site of their last stand meant that all the signs added up to a very bloody fight indeed. Our casualties during the assault on the first island were extraordinarily light, but we harbored no illusions that we would be that lucky this time. Both Legions still with Caesar would take part in the assault, attacking in two prongs. The 10th would approach from the south, from the general direction of the first island, with the 9th coming from the east, directly across the bay. The news that we would be attacking from the direction of the first island was met with a lot of muttered complaints since it meant that we had a good distance to go. Distance between the two islands was around ten miles, but even cutting at an angle between the two islands before turning north, we would still be in the water for almost two full watches, a prospect that none of us viewed with any enthusiasm. One blessing was that the weather had broken, with clear skies and calm seas; we could only pray to the gods to make sure that it stayed that way. Another difficulty was that we needed more boats, since this was going to be a two Legion assault and one of the original boats had gotten too damaged by the rough water. Although we avoided losing any men, the boat itself had to be scrapped, so one more week would be spent building more boats, during which the weather could change again. Every morning we woke up scanning the skies with a worried eye, hoping that our luck would not run out, also knowing that Caesar was not likely to delay even if it did. After all, we took the first fort in horrible conditions with minimal loss, so why would he delay a second time? So we cut down trees and dragged them back to the beach, not bothering to hide our intentions this time, sawing, hammering and sweating so that after another week, we had a second fleet of flat-bottomed boats. Instead of using Legionaries to row this time, the Gallaeci men captured in the first assault were pressed into service and forced to row us to kill their comrades and kin. Despite myself, I found I had some sympathy for these men; it must be a terrible fate indeed to be forced to help i
n the destruction of your people.
The day of the assault dawned with much rejoicing and prayers of thanks that the weather dawned sunny, clear and calm. In fact, the surface of the water was barely rippled, looking almost as placid as the surface of a small lake. For reasons known only to Caesar, he had decided not to use the same tactic of a night assault; Calienus guessed that it had something to do with the distance that the 10th was going to have to cover, which made sense to us. Even with clear weather, several miles of water is a long distance, and much could go wrong. The Gallaeci had not helped; at night, they restricted their fires to the lower parts of the fort, not up on the hill, so it was almost impossible to see the lights from any distance. Therefore at dawn we piled aboard the boats, once again cursing our fate and grumbling about how we were not made to spend time on water. Setting out, despite the calm waters I found my stomach rebelling, so that before long I was again standing at the gunwales with some of my other comrades, launching my breakfast into the ocean. Those men with stronger constitutions jeered at us but we were too miserable to take offense. With the island just a black line barely visible on the horizon, we soon grew bored watching it and willing it to grow larger with every stroke, so instead we began our normal routines of gambling, gossiping and complaining. Sitting with my back against the side of the boat, I watched my comrades, and despite the seasickness and apprehension of the coming battle, I felt my heart swell with a kind of pride that comes when one has a sense of truly belonging to something greater than oneself. I smiled as Romulus and Remus bickered about something that had happened months before; Scribonius and Vellusius were playing their own game of dice; Calienus and Rufio were having a contest trying to see who could balance their dagger on the tip of their finger the longest. Vibius had found a spot where he could stretch out and was laying with his face up to the sun, smiling contentedly as he soaked up the warmth and nourishment of the sun’s rays. Despite the fact that we were about to throw ourselves into another type of contest, where the stakes were much, much higher, I realized that there was no place on earth that I would rather be than in this boat, with these men. And there is no amount of money that a man can possess that is worth that feeling.
Finally, after what was a little less than a full watch, we got close enough that the signal was given to the 9th to begin their crossing, since they were required to wait for some time before starting. The plan was that we would arrive at the fort at the same time, although we were going to land at the southern end of the island, about a mile away from the fort. In order for this to work, we had to be almost to our landing point before the signal was given to the 9th to proceed. Once more I was assigned to help carry the artillery, except this time I would actually have to lug it across the sand. There was only one problem; there was no sand. Rowing closer to the southern end of the island, we passed by a smaller island that was deserted and had blocked our view of the larger island.
Once past it, I heard one of the men with some experience as a sailor call out in a worried voice, “This isn't good.”
The words and tone immediately got us all scrambling to our feet, and we peered ahead. At first, I could not see anything that to my inexperienced eye would cause any concern. There was a strip of white at the base of the island where it met the ocean, and I assumed that it must be the beach that we were to land on. After a few moments, I began to look again, puzzled by something that did not seem right, so I tapped Calienus on the shoulder, pointed and asked, “Sergeant, have you ever seen sand that white before?”
He looked closely, then shook his head. Before he could say anything, the sailor, having heard my question answered for him. “That’s because it’s not sand, Gregarius. That’s foam.”
“Foam? What exactly does that mean?”
“It means that that’s not a beach; it’s rocks, and the foam is from the water striking the rocks. There’s no way we can land there.”
Before we could react, he turned quickly to his assistant to snap some orders, who in turn began giving directions to the men rowing, and for the first time it occurred to me that we were in some danger. Once we cleared the small island, we were less than a half mile from the large one, and in the space between the two land masses, some forces were at work that created a current that was propelling us with alarming speed straight for the rocky shore. In the same moment I recognized that danger, the thought struck me that the men rowing held our fate in their hands; they could exact their revenge by refusing to obey the orders of the men commanding the ship, and let us go dashing onto the rocks. They were chained to their benches, so they would undoubtedly die, but they would at least do so with the satisfaction that they were taking a lot of us with them. We were one of the two lead ships, and if we did not correct our course, there was no reason that the other ships following us would not be led to their destruction as well.
Those next few moments reinforced my loathing of being at sea, at the mercy of forces much greater than ourselves and outside of our control. However, the gods smiled on us in the sense that the Gallaeci, who also held the power of life and death over us, were in love with living as much as we were, because they frantically began reversing our course. Slowly we turned away from the jagged rocks waiting to turn our boats into tinder, managing instead to move up the eastern side of the island. It took us closer to the fort, yet that was another blessing in disguise, at least for me and the others who were supposed to carry the artillery. Finding an area that, while not a sandy beach, was smooth enough that it was deemed to be safe for landing without damaging the boats excessively, we immediately began unloading then moving onto the beach, and as we fell into formation to begin the march to the fort, we could see the boats of the 9th disappearing behind a headland that jutted out to our east.
“We’re going to have to hurry if we want to be in place when we’re supposed to be,” Vibius commented, and I nodded in agreement. It had apparently not taken the 9th nearly the amount of time to cross that they had thought it would, so despite our landing closer to the fort, it was evident that we could not tarry if we wanted this assault to have the coordination that Caesar expected. To that end, the Centurions bawled out the order to begin the march and we immediately set out, with a couple of Centuries sent ahead of us to scout out any possible ambush. The ground was fairly level but was extremely rough, causing a bit of stumbling and a lot of cursing as we moved along, the higher part of the fort clearly visible above a line of trees just ahead. At our approach, we heard shouts and the clash of arms as the advance Centuries ran into something ahead.
“First Cohort, on line!”
The Primus Pilus sounded the order, and the First immediately spread out in a line of Centuries, the sounds of fighting growing in intensity and volume as now the cries of men being struck down was added to the din.
“Advance at the double!”
The First started trotting ahead, with the rest of us following, hearing more than seeing the fighting in the trees. A few moments later, the First slammed into the Gallaeci lying in wait, and in short order the fighting was over. Entering the tree line we saw several dozen dead Gallaeci, with our own dead and wounded interspersed among them. The medici that had come with us moved up through our ranks, examining our men, assessing the casualties and administering treatment in less severe cases, or a quick slash across the throat for those who were too severely wounded to survive. No matter how often we saw this happen we could never get used to it, and to a man we always averted our eyes from the unfortunates whose lives were being ended as we walked by.
Exiting the trees, we were some 200 paces away when we saw the first wall, manned now by what looked like a few hundred Gallaeci. Orders were given to assemble the artillery and I moved with the section of men I was working with to help put together the piece. In short order, everything was assembled and made ready to fire but we did not begin a barrage, being under orders to wait for the signal from the 9th, consisting of horns and fire arrows shot into the air. Watching to the
right where the 9th was supposed to be, we waited to start while the Gallaeci stood behind their walls, taunting us and shaking their weapons in our direction, telling us in no uncertain terms what they were going to do to us. The fact that we reduced their first fort with such ease did not seem to have any impact on them and we stared across the expanse of ground, silent and grim, as they continued to harangue us. Moving back to my place in formation once I had discharged my duties with the artillery, I stood there with my friends trying to keep from fidgeting as we waited. After a few moments, we finally heard the blasts of the bucina, followed by a streak of light as a fire arrow shot into the sky to our right.
“Open fire!”
The command to begin the barrage rang out, and immediately we heard the twang of the torsion arms snapping forward as the missiles hurtled towards the fort, some of them striking the wall while others either fell short or sailed high to land beyond the first wall. While we brought ladders, the plan was to open breaches in the outer wall and save the ladders for the inner wall. However, the first few volleys were a disappointment since it did not seem that the barrage was having the desired effect. There was a lot of dust and as we had seen before, the missiles tore the outer bark off the wooden walls, but that was about all that was happening. After several moments of this, the Primus Pilus signaled a halt to the barrage then called for a conference of the Pili Priores, while we had to endure the jeers and taunts of the Gallaeci who celebrated the lack of success. After conferring, the decision was made to concentrate the fire of the artillery on just two points on the wall, instead of the half-dozen that were originally planned. This was not good news for those of us who were going to be charging in through the gap, since it allowed the Gallaeci to concentrate their forces, but there was no real alternative. Immediately our intentions became clear to them, as in a matter of perhaps a half dozen volleys the two points on the wall started to fail, with huge chunks of wood and splinters flying from every strike. Our scorpions were holding their fire, since they would be more useful in keeping the Gallaeci’s heads down as we approached the walls. Then the work was done, two good-sized gaps torn in the walls, just the jagged stumps of the wood protruding from the ground, with enough room for a section to enter the breach abreast. Through the dust we could see the bodies of some of the men who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet to this point the casualties had been minimal, on both sides. That was about to change.