by R. W. Peake
Romulus’ head shot up at Scribonius’ last words, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stared at the other man, clearly trying to determine whether or not Scribonius was mocking him in any way, but that was not in Scribonius’ nature. He was truly happy at being able to teach Romulus something, and Romulus obviously saw that, so that he began to smile, beaming with pride just like he was a student in class who had been called on and given the correct answer.
“Yes, I see now. The zeros don’t matter,” he nodded.
I let out a silent sigh of relief, happy that things had not turned ugly. The instant I had the chance, I pulled Scribonius to the side to thank him for the way he treated Romulus, then made a request of my own.
“Do you think you can show me some of those tricks?” I asked. “It’s just that I’m having to do a lot of counting and addition and such, and it takes me forever to do the accounts I’m supposed to turn in.”
Scribonius frowned, and for a moment I thought he would refuse me, yet that was the farthest thing from his mind.
“They’re not tricks Pullus, they’re…..rules. It’s just like the army. Once you learn the rules, it’s easy.”
I immediately saw the sense of that, and I told him so.
“How about this instead?” he asked, catching me a bit by surprise. “Why don’t I sit with you and I can do your reports for you, while you watch and learn how I do it? That way, you don’t have to worry about writing all that nonsense, and you’ll learn how the rules work.”
This made eminent sense to me, as well as pleasing me that I would have one less burden on my shoulders, and I thanked him for his offer.
“Pullus, it’s the least I can do,” he replied quietly. “Remember, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now.”
I did not know what to say, trying to laugh it off with some lame joke, but his words touched me. We parted as I went to make my nightly report to the Pilus Prior, and again I was thankful that I had done what I did that day against the Helvetii.
Scouts brought word that the Belgic host was drawing nearer, so Caesar ordered the camp broken down and we went on the march, this time moving north to another river called the Axona (Aisne), crossing over it by the one bridge in the area. Then, with the river to our back to protect us, Caesar directed the camp to be built a short distance away. This was the most elaborate marching camp we ever created up to that point, with Caesar seeking to make the best use of the terrain. There was another small river a short distance to the north that branched off the Axona, the area around its banks a swampy mess. Caesar positioned our camp on a low hill running roughly northwest to southeast, with the southern wall of the camp a short distance from the Axona. Instructing us to make the ditch extra wide, it was 18 feet compared to his normal 15, thereby making the earthen portion of the rampart eight feet, with the stakes for the palisade adding another four in total height. In addition, he had us dig a trench extending along the axis of the Porta Praetoria of the camp further north down the hill, extending for almost a half mile beyond the walls, where a small fort was constructed with a scorpion and catapult for protection, manned by a Century. He had another trench dug running along the axis of the PortaDecumana to the south down the opposite slope towards the river, the same length and armed in the same manner. The bridge was fortified as well, and was located perhaps a mile and a half from the main gate to our southwest. The orientation of the camp was built so that the Belgae would have to pass directly across our front to get to the bridge, which was the only way across the river for several miles. If the Belgae wanted to attack the camp directly, they would have to negotiate the morass along the smaller river, while under fire from the northernmost fort. It took us most of the day to complete the work, and it was only due to the size of the army that we were able to accomplish all that in a single day. The fort at the bridge was under the command of a Tribune named Sabinus with four Cohorts and a squadron of cavalry. It was within these fortifications that we waited for the Belgae to sweep south.
At around midnight that first night, a messenger arrived with an urgent request for help from Iccius, the Remi leader who had approached Caesar about an alliance. It turned out that the Belgae, having learned of the Remi’s choice to side with Rome, changed the direction of their march to the west to besiege the Remi’s capital at a town called Bibrax. Iccius begged Caesar to send help, since he was not confident that his small force could withstand a siege by a force of the size that was facing him. Caesar responded by sending a detachment from the auxiliary forces, consisting of Numidian javelineers, Cretan archers and Balearic slingers, all missile troops, who left shortly before dawn. Lightly armed, they were able to quickly travel the seven miles to the town, finding it completely blockaded by the Belgae, whose idea of siegecraft was to surround a town with their warriors then use missiles to scour the parapets of the enemy. Apparently their hope was that the warriors holding the town would finally become discouraged and just give up. The Belgae had no conception of siege engines, and Bibrax was built on a steep hill, with the southern approach being an escarpment, which the Belgae did not think to invest. Consequently, it was short work for our auxiliaries to drive the Belgae away from the town, who instead took out their frustration on the surrounding countryside, putting it to the torch. Satisfied that they made their point, the Belgae resumed their march towards our encampment, arriving after nightfall of the same day that they were repulsed from Bibrax, proceeding to build a camp that was so huge that they were required to use signal fires to communicate from one end to the other. Their campfires extended as far as the eye could see, with the nearest end of their camp perhaps a mile on the other side of the small river and even with the eastern end of our camp. Since the terrain was fairly flat and open and we still could not see the far end of their camp, it had to have been more than three miles in length, a fact that, even with our confidence, unnerved us a bit. It even instilled in Caesar a sense of caution, prompting him to decide to give himself more time to judge the fighting qualities of the huge army before us. To that end, the next morning he sent out a number of cavalry patrols that clashed with similar contingents of Belgae presumably sent out by Galba to do the same thing in testing our ability to fight. We were pleasantly surprised when we saw that our cavalry took the measure of their foes in every skirmish they fought that day, and this outcome convinced Caesar to send us out to challenge the Belgae the next morning.
Six Legions marched out of the camp that morning, with the 13th and 14th staying in the camp to guard it. We were in our place on the right wing, with the camp to our right rear and the other Legions arranged roughly perpendicular to the northwest corner of the camp wall. The moment the Belgae saw us march out, they began to stream out of their own camp to face us, with the small river and the morass between us. In order to attack, they would have to cross the morass, with the southern edge of it just within range of our javelins, while the far bank was in range of our artillery. The Belgae formed up just beyond this, whereupon we stood and stared at each other, our side impassively watching the Belgae work themselves up into a frenzy. However, Galba never gave the order to attack, obviously worried about the problem of crossing the swampy ground under fire. Instead they settled for shaking their weapons at us and bellowing promises of all that they would do to us, as first one individual then another among them worked up the courage to dash up to the bank of the river. Standing there, they would yell some insult at us, usually accompanied by the baring of their backside, before scurrying back to the safety of the horde before our artillerymen decided to poke a hole through them. The Belgic army was arrayed in the traditional three wings, except that because of their numbers each wing, consisting of three lines like our own, dwarfed our entire line of six Legions. Still, despite this huge advantage, they refused to advance.
“This is getting boring,” I heard Vibius say, and I had to agree.
It seemed to us that we spent a lot of time standing waiting for Gauls to work up the nerve to attack, a
nd it tended to get monotonous. Because of the immense size of their army, it was difficult for us to keep track of smaller detachments, so it was with some surprise that a courier sent from Sabinus back at the fort at the bridge came galloping up looking for Caesar, who as usual was commanding our wing. He carried a warning that the Belgae had sent scouts about two miles west and found a ford, and were now making for it with a large detachment from the main army, apparently sending men from their third line where we could not see them. Caesar immediately wheeled his horse, and commanding the auxiliary missile troops to follow him, galloped away to head off the danger to our rear, with the cavalry in tow. While this Belgae force crossing the ford was not large enough to defeat us, it was more likely that they would turn to lay waste to the Remi fields that supplied our grain. If that happened we would be forced to move because of lack of food, making stopping them imperative to our overall goal. Caesar and his force reached the ford to find that a small group had indeed made it across, but the bulk of the troops were still on the other side. The water at this spot was waist deep, and Belgae were wading across as quickly as they could, so Caesar ordered the cavalry to deal with the few men who made it to our side as he deployed the auxiliary missile troops, who began firing on the Belgae in the water. There was an immense slaughter at the ford, with our troops standing off at a distance to send a hail of arrows, stones and javelins into the bodies of the warriors trying desperately to get across the river. Bodies began to pile up in the current, the men crossing behind the dead and wounded now having the added difficulty of clambering over the bodies as they tried desperately to close with our missile troops. Soldiers, no matter who they fight for, hate the men who use bows and slings, thinking it a cowardly way of waging war, and no doubt it was this hatred that spurred the Belgae on in their attempt to exact their revenge on our troops. It was less of a skirmish or battle than it was a slaughter, and it was over in less than a third of a watch, ending with the river choked with the bodies of the dead, polluting the water with their blood.
Once the attempt to force a crossing at the ford failed, the Belgae chief Galba obviously made the decision that a battle under these conditions was worse than pointless. We were in a strong position, with artillery support, on terrain that favored us, and that was enough to force the Belgae to begin streaming back into their camp. Waiting until they retired before marching back to our own camp, we were suspicious of some sort of trick. This was no deception, however; the Belgae were done as far as fighting that or the next day. Evidently, there was a council of some sort and a decision was made that we became aware of around midnight, when without warning, the Belgae began streaming out of their camp, except this time not to face us, choosing instead to head in the opposite direction. The racket their withdrawal caused convinced the officer of the watch to sound the alarm, so we scrambled up from our cots, got dressed and donned our gear, forming up ready to march within a few moments. The guards on the walls relayed down to us what was happening, and we were of the same mind that this was some sort of ruse, so we waited quietly for the order to be given to repel an attack on our walls. But it was no ruse; when daybreak came, Caesar sent a patrol out, and they returned shortly to assure Caesar that the camp was indeed empty, the Belgae having fled in the night. Later we learned from prisoners that the chiefs of each of the tribes represented demanded a council be held, with a vote taken that each tribe return to its own lands to wait our approach. A pact was made that the first tribe attacked would sound the alarm, whereupon all the tribes would converge on that point to mass together to crush us. Once Caesar deemed that it was no trick, he immediately ordered the cavalry, the 10th, 11th and 12th out of the camp in pursuit in order to inflict as much damage as we could on the retreating horde. We were assembled and ready to march very quickly, moving out after the enemy, setting a quick pace because we carried nothing but our weapons and a canteen of water. It took much less than a full watch before we spotted the rear of the massive column, and our cavalry went flying off in pursuit, while we shook out into an aciesduplex, five Cohorts from each Legion in each line, the Centuries lined up side by side to provide the widest coverage instead of our normal three Century front. The cavalry came at the Belgae at an angle, slicing across the fleeing column and effectively cutting off a group of men who were now faced with cavalry pushing them back towards the Legions. If they turned to try and flee, their backs would be to the cavalry, as close to certain death as one can get, but if they stood their backs would be to us as we advanced, just as certain an end. Quick work was made of these men, effectively cutting them down from behind as they fought the cavalry to their front. Once we were finished with them, the cavalry went off in pursuit of more prey, performing the same maneuver, with the same result. Most of the day passed in this manner, carving up small groups of the rearguard, most of them fighting bravely, yet without any sense of cohesion. If the larger body of men had simply turned and attacked us, we would have been in trouble, except they were more intent on using their comrades’ death as a means of getting farther away, making killing the members of the rearguard easier. Finally we stopped simply because we were running out of time to return back to camp before dark, and we were definitely aware that being caught out in the dark could be a problem. There was no time to build our own camp and have it ready before it got dark, so Labienus ordered us to turn around, marching at a fast pace back to the camp. I am not sure how many Belgae we killed, but I would guess that it was three or four thousand.
The next morning we broke camp, except instead of pursuing the Belgae army, which was not taking the most direct route back to their homelands but were retracing their steps back to where they left their respective baggage trains, Caesar used this as an opportunity to press the attack on just one of the hostile tribes. To that end, he picked the Suessiones and their stronghold at Noviodunum, to the west of our camp along the Axona. It was a hard day’s march away, despite the route being along the river and the trek along level ground, so we were extremely tired by the time we arrived within sight of the walls of the town. Wanting to take advantage of the absence of most of the Suessiones fighting men, since only a few of the older and less bold warriors were left to guard the walls, Caesar had us ground our gear and immediately formed for an assault. Ladders were quickly made, and before perhaps a third of a watch had elapsed from our arrival, we were marching towards the walls, preparing to storm the town. When we drew near, however, it became apparent that ladders would not be enough, because the walls were much higher than they looked from a distance. Compounding the problem was that the ditch was also much wider than we anticipated as well, so we were ordered back to our gear, and despite our fatigue from the march and the hurried preparations for assault, began building a marching camp. Once we finished, we were given just enough time to eat our evening meal before we were given orders to start creating proper siegeworks. Marching to the nearby forest in torchlight, we began felling trees, working for almost a full watch before being allowed to retire for the night. Falling on our cots completely exhausted, most of us did not bother to remove our armor or boots, yet that did not stop any of us from falling asleep immediately.
The next day we arose before dawn to begin in earnest the work of creating the proper equipment to storm the town. Mantlets were created, small huts on wheels that are rolled up to the wall of the besieged town, with sturdy roofs and sides usually covered in wicker or green hides to protect the men working from within, who are either undermining the wall or using a ram to break through. In addition, siege towers were built, and we worked rapidly as the Suessiones could only watch from the walls helplessly. During that first night, the Suessiones war party had returned and since we had not yet encircled the town they were able to enter, so the walls were now crowded with their warriors, yet they were as impotent to stop us as the common citizens of the town. By midday, the towers were nearing completion, built taller than the walls to enable the men who would conduct the assault to effectively run downhil
l and onto the parapet. There were levels built into the towers where the missile troops and even a scorpion could rake the walls with fire as the tower was pushed into place on huge rollers made out of several of the largest trees that we could find. Another group of men filled the moat up with dirt to provide a path for the towers to be brought to the walls, using large wicker shields called fascines to shelter behind while they worked. The speed at which these preparations were made always astonished even us, but it was no less fearsome and impressive to the Suessiones. Just as we were beginning to roll the two towers into place, and the men working inside the mantlets were dragging their rams to use on the base of the walls, the Suessiones signaled that they wanted to talk, doing so just before the rams actually touched the walls, since that would have been too late. The gates opened and a small group of men, most of them older, with gray in their hair and beards, came out under a flag of truce, asking to speak to Caesar. Our general rode to meet them, dismounting as a courtesy, and listened to their pleas for mercy. Accompanying Caesar was a Remi, who I later learned was Iccius, having come from Bibrax with Caesar when he relieved the town, and the Suessiones begged for him to intercede with Caesar and speak on their behalf, which he did. Caesar agreed to accept their surrender, demanding hostages for security, which they provided immediately, the town surrendering without a single life lost.
“So why did we go to all that trouble if they were just going to piss themselves at the sight of our towers?” grumbled Vibius.
I nodded in agreement; that was a lot of sweat gone to waste, at least from the way we saw it. This might sound strange to one who has never been a soldier, but a town that surrendered meant there was no chance for a Legionary to improve himself, either by feats of bravery or by more coin in his purse. This was how Caesar managed to pull himself out of debt when he was governor of Hispania, when the towns surrendered to him one after the other. It became immediately clear that it was this that bothered Vibius more than anything else.