Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus

by R. W. Peake

  “We came up on the Bastarnae just as their wagon train was leaving, and their rearguard put up a stiff fight,” he said.

  I frowned, not liking what I was hearing.

  “This many dead from a skirmish?” I asked the Pilus Prior, who averted his gaze as he answered.

  “I wouldn’t call what just happened a skirmish, Prefect. There were a lot more Bastarnae warriors than we expected.”

  I thought there was an implied rebuke in his statement, but Crassus appeared unperturbed.

  “How many?” he asked the Pilus Prior, who rubbed his forehead in thought.

  “At least 4,000 foot, and at least 2,000 cavalry,” he answered.

  Crassus and I exchanged a glance. What we had thought was a total victory had in fact only been a partial one, since a significant number of Bastarnae had obviously stayed behind with the women and children. It also explained the relative lack of cavalry present during our ambush, while according to our scouts, there were still a fair number of enemy cavalry unaccounted for.

  “Who stripped these bodies?” I asked the Pilus Prior.

  “Not us,” he confirmed my suspicions. “They were like that when we got here.”

  “They must have stripped their own dead,” Crassus mused, looking about at the pale bodies before returning his attention to the Pilus Prior. “Where's the rest of the 14th now?”

  “They’ve marched after the wagons, keeping the pressure on the Bastarnae.”

  “They should be easy to find,” Crassus said, beckoning me to follow.

  Moving at a quick trot, we followed the churned earth as it pointed to a low notch between two tree-covered hills. They were not high, just enough to block our view of what lay beyond, except there was a plume of dust that told us that some sort of movement was still taking place. Climbing the notch, we looked down onto a valley that widened out as it went farther away from our position. At the far end, we could just make out the tail end of the 14th, still marching in column, telling us that they had not encountered the Bastarnae. Breaking into a canter, we quickly closed the distance, catching the last of the 14th just as they were leaving the valley. The sloping shoulder of one of the hills had obstructed our view of the country beyond and once we maneuvered between the marching men and the hill, we finally saw where the Bastarnae were headed. About three miles distant was yet another hill, with steeply sloping sides, perched on top of which sat something that we could not immediately identify, but was clearly man-made. Because the ground sloped slightly downward all the way to the base of the far hill, we could see the situation laid out before us, and Crassus pulled up for a moment to study things. The vanguard of the 14th was less than a half-mile behind a dark clump that I took to be the infantry rearguard, with the line of wagons moving slowly away from them. It was plain to see that the wagons were heading for this hilltop, the head of the column less than a half-mile from the base of the hill.

  “How in Hades do they think they’re going to get those wagons up there?” Crassus wondered, something I was thinking as well.

  “There must be a road that leads up to the top that we can’t see,” was all I could think of.

  Satisfied that he had seen enough, Crassus and I resumed our progress, now moving at the canter past the rest of the 14th. Reaching the First Cohort, we arrived in time to hear Primus Pilus Saenus give his cornicen the order to shake out into battle formation. Now that we had closed the distance, we could see that it had indeed been Bastarnae infantry we had seen, and we were close enough to see that they numbered perhaps a thousand strong. Certainly not enough to defeat the 14th, yet I do not believe that was their intent, and in that they were already being successful. All they had to do was to delay us long enough to allow the wagons to ascend that road, which I was sure existed even if we could not see it. Looking beyond the rearguard, I saw the head of the wagon column snaking around the base of the hill, almost out of sight. We were also close enough to see that what lay on top of the hill was a large fortification, with a number of stone buildings within. Unlike Naissus, these walls were made of stone, large blocks of native rock that looked well made and solidly put together, the buildings made of the same material. This would be a much tougher nut to crack than Naissus had been, at least from the perspective of breaching the fortifications. I wondered how the Bastarnae were going to squeeze all of their wagons inside the fortifications, but that was their problem, and I turned my attention back to our immediate difficulty. When each Cohort marched up, they were put into position, facing the Bastarnae warriors who stood waiting for our advance. Crassus took over from Saenus in directing the men where he wanted them, putting the Cohort into double line. We outnumbered the rearguard by more than three to one, so I doubted that the men of the second line would even be called forward. However, I also knew that the Bastarnae were fighting for their families, or what remained of them. They were perhaps a third of their original numbers, but that was still well more than 200 wagons. The rest were lying on the ground a couple miles behind us, their bodies now stiff and cold. Seeing how close they had been to the relative safety of this hilltop fortress, I could imagine how anguished and frustrated they must have felt. Obviously, the decision had been made, probably by Deldo, that it was safer to stop just a few miles short for the night than try to risk moving in the dark. It was easy to second-guess that decision, given how things had turned out, yet I do not know I would have made a different one at the moment. I had nothing against the Bastarnae; I did not hate them the way I did the Parthians, or the Egyptians, for that matter, making it relatively easy for me to feel some sympathy for them, although it would not stop me from sticking my sword into their guts when the moment came. That is the essence of what it means to be a professional soldier, I think; killing someone you don’t hate, or in fact have some admiration for, and doing it without hesitation. The sad fact is that men of my experience and longevity in the Legions had plenty of practice in killing men we respected, and in some cases even knew and liked, during the civil wars, so my feelings about the Bastarnae and their plight would not impede me in the slightest. Nor would it impede any of the men in Marcus Crassus’ army, and I watched the 14th making themselves ready to launch their assault. They had not had time to replenish their supply of javelins, other than what men scrounged from the first battlefield, meaning there would be little chance to soften up the Bastarnae before going to the sword. However, Saenus had the men pass what javelins they had to the center of the front rank, in order to concentrate their fire.

  “We’re going to try and punch a hole in their middle, and push through it,” he explained to Crassus and me, a move that I heartily approved of, thinking that it was a wise husbanding of resources.

  Crassus was not so sure, however, but he did not overrule Saenus, which pleased both of us.

  “Time is our biggest enemy right now, Saenus,” Crassus told the Primus Pilus. “We have to sweep this rearguard aside if we’re going to have any chance of stopping those wagons from getting into that fort.”

  Looking over the heads of the Bastarnae to where the wagons were still plodding along, I could see that the first few wagons of the column had already disappeared around the back of the hill, so I felt sure that no matter how swift a victory, we would miss our chance, although I kept my thoughts to myself. Calling one of his couriers, who had accompanied us from the main body, Crassus gave him orders by wax tablet, sending for the rest of the army to march to this location. Now that we knew where the enemy was and what they were trying to do, Crassus sent me to retrieve the 8th, their grisly task presumably having been finished by this time. The sun was less than a hand’s breadth away from the western horizon, meaning the men would have to hurry if they wanted to get here to make camp before it was completely dark. Without waiting to watch the 14th, I turned Ocelus to canter back in the direction from which we had come to recall the 8th and guide them back.

  The 8th and I arrived just as the sun was setting, where I could immediately see two things
; the 14th had brushed aside the Bastarnae with few casualties and, judging from Crassus’ face, they had been too late to stop the wagons.

  “We didn’t get a single wagon,” he fumed.

  We were watching the men working on the camp, sited on almost the exact spot where they had formed up to attack the rearguard. Not knowing how long we would be in place, Crassus ordered a detail of the 8th to dig a mass grave to throw the dead Bastarnae of the rearguard in, and I was amused to see that Gaius’ Seventh was part of that detail. Despite not having to dig himself, he would have to endure the moaning and complaining of his men about the foul job, which aside from filling in latrine ditches is the worst duty a man can pull. The rest of the army arrived a short time later, minus a Cohort and Silva’s cavalry left behind to guard the wounded. We were now five Cohorts short, minus the other casualties, of course, including the four that had been left behind at the main camp. A manpower shortage was not the only problem; all of the palisade stakes, our baggage, and our tents were back at the main camp, along with most of the pack animals, now separated from us by a distance of several miles. Most importantly, for our purposes, all of the artillery, with the exception of some scorpions we had brought along, along with the engineering tools were also back there. Without this equipment, we could not conduct a proper siege. The four Cohorts would not be enough men to pack all that equipment, even with the help of the slaves and orderlies that had been left behind. Diocles and the higher-ranking clerks, who doubled as medical orderlies in battle, were back with the wounded. In short, our army was scattered to Hades and back, and before we could think of conducting the serious business of dislodging the Bastarnae, we had to consolidate. To that end, Crassus called a command meeting to discuss the best way to make this happen.

  “I think we'll be safe tonight with just a ditch between us and whatever’s left of the Bastarnae,” was Crassus’ judgment.

  I agreed, although I was not so sure about after that.

  “Once they see that we don’t have a proper camp they might be desperate enough to throw everything at us to try and inflict enough damage that we’ll withdraw.”

  “Good,” Crassus said belligerently, smacking a fist into his palm. “Then we can crush them once and for all.”

  “That's a big risk, especially given that we still don’t know where the rest of their cavalry is,” I pointed out, reminded of what had happened at Alesia, when enough of the Gallic cavalry had escaped to flee to the various tribes to organize a relief effort.

  In fact, I was worried enough about the similarity that I felt compelled to remind everyone about that very thing. This had a sobering effect, at least on the Primi Pili, which in turn brought Crassus back down to earth from his dreams of total victory in one stroke.

  “Very well,” he said after a moment. “I see what you're saying, and I agree that the prudent course would be to send at least one Legion back to strike the camp and bring all of our gear back to our present location. The 15th will be the Legion to go back and retrieve everything.”

  With that decided, I felt compelled to ask, “What about Timonax, Scylax, and that bunch? What do you want to do about them?”

  Crassus thought for a moment.

  “Bring them along,” he said finally. “I think they still have some use for us.”

  Watches were set, along with the watchword, and with that we retired to spend the night wrapped up in our cloaks, trying to get what sleep we could in the chilly night.

  The 15th left shortly before dawn the next morning, and immediately after first light Crassus and the command group mounted our horses to conduct a thorough inspection of the hill. Keeping a safe distance from the ramparts of the fortress, we circled the base of the hill, stopping every furlong or so while sketches were made and notes taken. Once we were on the opposite side of the hill, we could see that there was indeed a roadway cut through the rock, circling up the hill to the gate, allowing the wagons entrance. However, there were a number of wagons, minus the livestock, which appeared to have been at least partially emptied, parked end to end in a row down the roadway.

  “That answers the question of whether they have enough room,” Crassus remarked.

  I could only imagine how crowded it must be inside that fortress, thinking that this would be a factor in our favor when conducting the siege. In such cramped conditions it is almost a given that disease will strike, something I thought particularly likely to happen in this case, due to a curiosity of the fortress and its position.

  “There’s no river or stream,” I observed as we were finishing our circuit. “So where do they get their water from?”

  “There must be springs on that hill,” Crassus mused, gazing up at the walls as if he could somehow see them.

  “Even if there are, how do they get rid of their waste?” I pointed out. “And whatever springs there may be there, I'm willing to bet that they've never been tasked the way they will with that many people to support.”

  Obviously pleased at the idea, Crassus rubbed his hands together and smiled.

  “That means this shouldn't take long,” he enthused. “Now we just need to get the army back together.”

  “And find the rest of the Bastarnae cavalry,” I reminded him, a prospect that did not please him nearly as much as the thought of the siege.

  When we returned to our semi-completed camp, the engineers immediately began making their plans for the siege and assault, and the men were allowed to rest while they waited for the 15th and the baggage. Since they had been ordered to stop to pick up the wounded on the way back, they were not expected until close to sundown, meaning that the men would be constructing the rest of camp in the dark. That was a minor inconvenience; by this point, most of the men could have constructed a camp, even a fortified camp in the face of the enemy, in the dark. After midday, the men were roused to go fell the trees and dress them for use in the towers and other fortifications that would be needed for our stay. The 15th arrived almost exactly when they were expected, the work stopping so all the men could help with constructing the camp. The palisades were thrown up first, then the tents were erected, and finally the personal baggage was distributed. The wounded were unloaded from the wagons to be placed in the main hospital tent. The dead from the main battle had been burned, their ashes placed in their urns back at the battle site, that duty performed by the guard Cohort while blessed by the priests who had remained behind. In other words, everything moved with the speed and efficiency that makes the Roman army the most unique, and most feared in the world. With all this done, the men finally had their first hot meal in two days, relaxing around their fires and talking about the battle and its aftermath. The next morning, the real work of the siege would start, so after I ate my evening meal I returned to the Praetorium to see what the plan was.

  “We can’t build a ramp because the sides of the hill are so steep that we'd have to dig out a significant portion of the slope to make it gradual enough to push a tower up to the wall,” Crassus told us.

  Although I had suspected as much, I was still unsure what approach would be best, since engineering is not my strong point.

  “So we're going to undermine the walls. We're going to begin at two points, on opposite sides. Whichever makes the best progress after the first few days is the side we're going to concentrate on.”

  There was something about this that bothered me, yet before I could ask, Macrinus beat me to it.

  “With a hill that high, won’t it require us to tunnel a vertical shaft for a good distance?”

  Rather than look upset with the question, Crassus beamed at Macrinus like he were a prized pupil reciting a passage correctly.

  “That is a challenge, Macrinus, but Paperius has come up with what I think is a good solution.”

  He motioned to his engineering officer to take up the explanation. Paperius stood, looking self-conscious about being the focus of attention.

  “We're going to dig our tunnel at an angle. It won’t be equal to the
slope of the hill, but it will be close, so that the vertical tunnel won't be much more than a man’s height. That way when we make the cavity under the wall, the combustible materials can simply be handed up and won’t have to be hauled up a ladder.”

  There were a number of details to discuss, taking the rest of the night before everyone was satisfied. Retiring for the night, my cot never felt so welcome, and it was not until I actually lay down that all the aches and pains finally hit me. Perversely, I took this to be a good sign that I was almost healed, despite some bleeding from my side that matted my tunic to me. Even with the discomfort, I was asleep before I could form a conscious thought.

  Siegework began immediately, starting the next morning with the emplacement of the artillery, positioned on two sides of the fort to cover the work of the men selected for digging. In accordance with the common practice, the mining working party was not rotated; tunneling through rock and shoring up the created passageway requires special skills, so only experienced men were used for these tasks. Carrying the spoil from the shaft was assigned on a rotating basis, however, while other men continued chopping down trees and dressing the timber for use as supports and such. The Bastarnae could do nothing except stand on their ramparts watching helplessly, like so many others had, while an army of Rome worked steadily and methodically, bent on their destruction. There were no cries of defiance, no shows of anything other than a sort of resignation on the part of the defenders, and the men soon began ignoring their onlookers as they worked. Under torture, Timonax revealed that the fortress had been one of the primary residences of Deldo, which accounted for its relatively large size and that, as Crassus had suspected, there was not just one, but three hidden springs supplying water to the garrison and people trapped inside. Timonax also provided information that Deldo had prepared the place for a protracted siege, with several stone buildings holding grain and other supplies, but he did not know how full they were at that moment. Once Crassus was convinced that he had gotten every piece of information from Timonax that he could, he ordered him and the other envoys executed. While I understood his decision, and in fact recognized that keeping them alive could prove to be a bigger mistake than killing them, there was still something about the whole affair that unsettled me. In effect, Crassus was taking the gamble that he would completely subdue the Bastarnae, when we did not really know that much about them. It was possible, in fact it was probable that most of the remaining Bastarnae were penned up in that fortress, yet there was still the question of the missing cavalry and what they were doing. Silva and our cavalry had only that morning been sent in search of them, but it might be days before he found them and could report back. That was nagging at me, because the only reason I could think of that would make the Bastarnae cavalry leave the immediate vicinity of the rest of their army, and more importantly their families, was that they were going for help.