by Ray Gleason
The first Aeduan hushed his companion. Then, he looked around and spotted me hovering close by. That was enough to silence the men. I knew I would get no more from them.
When I wandered back to where I could hear the deputation, one of the warriors, a dark-haired man in a red tartan was saying, “Our fields should not be destroyed; our children should not be carried off into slavery; and our towns should not be assaulted when your army is within our sight. It is not possible for us to defend our people from the onslaught of so large a host. Soon, we will have nothing left except the dust of our fields.”
When the warrior was finished speaking, Caesar rose from his sella curulis and addressed the assembly, “Caesar has heard the complaints and the entreaties of the allies and friends of the Roman people. You will have my answer in the morning!”
With that, Caesar turned and walked back toward the gate of the castrum. Labienus and I fell in behind him. We followed him back to his quarters in the praetorium. He tossed his helmet on his table and ordered his body slave to assist him in removing his cuirass.
While this was happening, he asked Labienus, “Where do our exploratores place the enemy?”
Labienus walked over to one of the maps and pointed to a spot near a squiggly blue line. “They’re here, moving west toward this river, the Arar, and taking their time about it. The scouts say that at these points, they’re crossing the river on boats and rafts.”
Caesar, now free of his armor, walked over to the map and asked, “How long before they get across the river?”
“Late tomorrow . . . maybe the next day,” Labienus shrugged.
“What’s here?” Caesar asked, pointing to where two blue lines converged.
“That’s the confluence of the Arar and the Rhodanus,” Labienus answered. “There’s a settlement there on our side of the river . . . an oppidum . . . a fortified town of the Sequani . . . This symbol indicates that there’s a bridge across the Rhodanus at this point . . . Looks to be no more than four, maybe five, thousand passus south of where the Helvetii are crossing the Arar.”
“Perfect!” Caesar said. “Absolutely perfect . . . issue orders . . . three legions . . . the Seventh, Ninth, and Tenth . . . We pull out at midnight . . . We march straight for that bridge . . . Then, we move to catch the enemy at those fords . . . We should catch them divided by the river . . . We can chew up their rear guard, and the rest won’t be able to support them . . . Send out an engineering detail with cavalry support to check that bridge . . . I want it capable of supporting our crossing when we get there . . . What is it, Labienus?”
“Caesar, when you cross the Rhodanus, you leave the imperium Romanum . . . Without the authorization of the Senate, your command does not reach into Gallia,” Labienus cautioned.
“Don’t be such an old lady, Labienus,” Caesar dismissed his counsel. “Audacibus favet Fortuna! . . . Fortune favors the bold! You keep this up, and I’ll have to appoint you to the Senate with the rest of those old women . . . The Helvetii are a clear and imminent threat to our provincia, and our pietas demands that we support our friends and allies on the other side of that river . . . We may not get another opportunity like this.”
“Yes, Caesar,” Labienus conceded.
“Bene! Issue the orders!” Caesar continued. “Have the quaester visit our Gallic friends in the morning, after we’ve pulled out . . . We will be out-marching our supplies . . . We’ll have them feed our army while we’re destroying their enemies . . . Fair trade, I think.”
I saw a thought flitter across Caesar’s eyes. He looked over to where I was standing. “Insubrecus . . . veni!”
“Yes, Patrone,” I responded.
“I saw you near that Gallic bunch over by the horses,” he said. “Did you pick up anything useful?”
“The Aedui want us to exhaust ourselves against the Helvetii so they will have an easier time dealing with us,” I offered.
“That makes sense,” Caesar agreed. “Anything else?”
I thought of how best to tell Caesar the other news. Then, I remembered Labienus’ advice: be direct. “Patrone, they were saying that Romans paid their king to entice you to go over the Rhodanus. They want the Helvetii to destroy you and this army.”
Caesar looked at me for a few heartbeats, then asked, “Are you sure you heard that part correctly?”
“Recte audivi, Patrone,” I answered. “Yes, I did!”
Caesar shrugged, “No matter . . . The Helvetii are not going to destroy this army . . . Bene gesta . . . Well done, Insubrecus.” He patted me on the shoulder.
Then, he turned to Labienus, “Issue the orders . . . We move out at midnight . . . three legions!”
We did move out at midnight. My legion, the Tenth, was the vanguard, followed by the Seventh, then the Ninth. I rode with Caesar’s praetorian detail near the head of the column. Valgus, my decurio, still had no confidence in my riding abilities and told me just to stay close to him during the march.
Once we cleared the hills around Leminco, our progress was swift. Caesar wanted to reach the bridge at the Rhodanus as quickly as possible, but he didn’t want to exhaust the troops doing it. He expected a battle at the end of the march.
By dawn, the army had fourteen thousand passus under its boots, and it was marching down a valley past a village called Laviscone. With the sun up, we picked up the pace. To keep them fresh along the route of the march, Valgus had us walking the horses for a thousand passus, then riding for a thousand.
We turned north. By the fifth hour, we were another fifteen thousand passus down the road, passing a pisshole of a place with the grandiose name of Aosta Salassorum, Aosta of the Salassi tribe, where we turned west and followed a river up another valley.
By the ninth hour, we were close to forty thousand passus out of Leminco, about five thousand passus east of Bergusium. Despite wanting to press on, even Caesar realized he had to halt or his army would be too clapped out to fight.
When he ordered the halt, the Tenth Legion, the First Cohort boys in the van, started chanting, “Ten thousand more! Ten thousand more!”
But, the general yelled back, “Save some of that for the barbarians!”
“We got plenty!” the boys in the Tenth yelled back.
“I’m sure you do, m’infantes!” Caesar answered them. “But, I’m an old man and need my rest!”
“Then, we’ll stop for you, Calve!” some wag yelled back.
Caesar rendered a dramatic gesture of thanks to the men in the vanguard. Then, I heard him say to Labienus, “Bring those exploratores to me . . . stat’!”
Caesar called, “Insubrecus! With me!” Then, he rode to where a group of legionary slaves were already erecting his headquarters tent.
When we dismounted, I saw Labienus leading a motley group of Gallic horsemen to Caesar. Caesar said, “Insubrecus . . . talk to those people . . . Find out where the enemy is.”
I approached the group and spoke in Gallic to the one I took to be their leader, “Uh prif duhmuno gweebod bleh mae’r Helvetii uhn cael eu?”
I saw a look of surprise pass across the face of the rider I approached. “The Roman puppy speaks our tongue!” he said.
“Puppies don’t kill. I have,” I told him. “Now, answer the question!”
The man gave me a long stare, then said, “You are right. I am being rude. I am Athauhnu mab Hergest of the People of Soucana, a Leader of Ten. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“The Romans call me Gai,” I answered him. “Among my people, the Insubreci, I am called Arth Bek, Wuhr Cunorud, mae milour Rhufeinig, a soldier of Rome.”
“Well, Arth Bek, Grandson of the Red Hound,” Athauhnu continued, “the Helvetii dogs have reached Soucana’s river at the valley of the white pines. That is half a day’s ride north from the Dun of Lugus. There are no fords in that place, so they are crossing on boats.”
I turned to Caesar, “The enemy has reached the Arar about fifteen thousand passus north of a place called Lugdunum . . . They
have begun to cross on boats.”
“Ask him how long it will take the Helvetii to cross!” Caesar snapped.
“Pah mor hir uh buhth uhn ei guhmruhd ar guhfer uh Helvetii i groesi’r afon?” I translated.
I watched Athauhnu calculate in his head. “Three . . . maybe four days,” he guessed. “They have women and children . . . and much baggage.”
“They’re loaded down,” I told Caesar. “He estimates three or four days.”
Then, Athauhnu said, “Tell the Roman chief that their foraging parties are across the Rotonos, and they have Almaenwuhra with them.”
Caesar caught the word Rotonos, and asked, “What did he say about the Rhodanus?”
“There are Helvetian raiding parties on our side of the river,” I told him. “And, he says they have Germans with them.”
“Germans?” Caesar said. “How many?”
“Faint o Almaenwuhra?” I asked.
Athauhnu shrugged, “Not many . . . not few.”
“He doesn’t know,” I told Caesar.
I saw Caesar considering this response. He decided not to press it. “Tell him thanks, Insubrecus. Tell him he’s welcome to food—and water and feed for his horses.”
I passed on Caesar’s gratitude, but then Athauhnu asked me, “Does the Roman chief intend to continue on the Roman road all the way to the dun of the Allobroges on the Rotonos?”
I wasn’t sure that I should share our route of march with the man, so I asked, “Why do you want to know that?”
“The Helvetii are burning our farms, raping our women, and murdering our children,” he said. “If the Roman chief marches on the Roman road to the Rotonos, he is going out of his way . . . He is giving those Helvetian pigs more time to kill my people . . . There is a shorter route direct to the Dun of Lugus . . . The road is not as good . . . but it will cut almost a day out of the journey.”
“Imperator,” I called to Caesar, “this man says he knows a shorter route to the bridge over the Rhodanus at Lugdunum than through Vigenna . . . He says our army can pass over it, and it will cut almost a day out of the march.”
This immediately got Caesar’s attention. “This man is familiar with this road?” he asked me.
“Noscit, Imperator,” I replied. “Yes, sir!”
“Bene!” Caesar said. Then, “Labienus . . . the Tenth’s cavalry is up with us . . . Tell their primus pilus I need a turma for a route reconnaissance . . . Stat’!”
Then to me, “Insubrecus, ask your man there if he will show us the way.”
“Uhn eich arwain ein marchoglu dros uh fhorth?” I asked Athauhnu.
Athauhnu shrugged, “Yes . . . of course . . . just give us some time to rest and water our horses.”
“As soon as their horses are ready, Imperator,” I told Caesar.
We were on the road by the eleventh hour. Caesar sent me along with the turma from the Tenth Legion because none of the Romans spoke Gallic. There were twenty-five Roman cavalry troopers commanded by a decurio called Rubigo, “Rusty,” because of his red hair.
About a thousand passus east of Bergusium, Athauhnu led us north and west away from the Roman road. We rode almost two thousand passus, passed through a narrow valley, and then found ourselves following a small river down a broad valley that the army would have no problem marching through.
Around sundown, we had to climb up through a narrow pass from the valley floor. At worst, the army could pass through it marching two abreast. When we climbed the valley, we found ourselves riding across a broad plain, which would offer no obstacle to our march.
We rode for what seemed like hours. The young moon rose, dimly lighting our way. Soon, off to the north and east, we could see what seemed to be bonfires burning in the night.
Athauhnu halted our march.
“It’s worse now,” he told me. “Those are the settlements of my people . . . The Helvetii and those German pigs are burning everything.”
“Ask him how much farther!” Rubigo interrupted.
I translated for Athauhnu. He shrugged, “Not much farther. The south branch of the Rotonos is to our front. The bridge your Caisar wants is to the northwest . . . It is downstream from where the branches of the river join together and just below the bluff where the dun of my people sits.”
“It’s not much farther to the northwest,” I told Rubigo.
“All that jabber to say ‘not much farther’?” the decurio complained. “These bloody wogs love the sound of their own voices.”
I didn’t think it appropriate to point out to Rubigo that I was one of those “wogs.”
“Da!” I told Athauhnu. “Good! Let’s go!”
In less than an hour, we were on a hill overlooking the Rhodanus. Below us, we could make out the bridge spanning the river and the fires of the Roman engineers Caesar had sent out to strengthen it. On the other side of the Rhodanus, on a facing bluff, the torches set on the ramparts of the Dun of Lugus, the seat of the Sequani, were visible.
“We rest the horses,” Rubigo said. “Then, we get back to the army. The wog’s right. We can be on the banks of the river by tomorrow night.”
“Beth a wnaeth uh un coch uhn ei thweud?” Athauhnu asked. “What did the Red One say?”
“He said thanks,” I told Athauhnu.
“So many words to say thanks,” Athauhnu commented shaking his head. “These Romans wag their tongues like old women.”
We rode as hard as our tired horses could tolerate to get back to the army. The fires in the north and east seemed to have gone out, leading me to hope that the enemy had withdrawn its raiding parties back across the river.
Erratum. I was wrong.
We were no more than ten thousand passus back from the hilltop where we saw the bridge when we literally collided with another group of horsemen in the dark. A rider, no more than a pace or two to my left, grunted, “Hwa gange ðær?”
I didn’t understand what he said, but immediately the image of a blond giant guarding the blue doorway of a lupinarium in Mediolanum appeared in my mind.
“Germani!” I yelled drawing my gladius. “Germans!”
I pulled my horse’s head hard to the left into the German rider. He was slower to react than I was. I felt my gladius bite home; where, I wasn’t sure. The rider grunted and went down.
The rest of the fight was a mad free-for-all in the dark. I could sense, more than see, figures swirling around me; I heard the sounds of steel on steel, the grunts of the wounded. Then, there was silence—silence except for the sound of a woman weeping somewhere in the dark.
I heard Rubigo call, “Insubrecus! Ub’es tu?”
“Adsum!” I responded.
I felt him ride up next to me. “Thank the gods! The general would have my hide if those Krauts got to you.”
“I hear someone crying,” I said.
“Prisoners,” Rubigo explained. “Those Kraut mentulae were dragging their captives along with them. Your wog buddies are seeing to them. Tell them to hurry. We have to get back to the army.”
I dismounted and found Athauhnu. He was with a cluster of his men and the freed captives.
“Young women and a few young boys,” he spat. “They’re from a settlement near the south branch of the Rotonos. The German pigs burned everything … killed everyone else except these few … they have value as slaves …”
“The Red One wants to get back to the Romans,” I said. “How soon can you move?”
“He’s right,” Athauhnu agreed. “The faster the Caisar arrives with his warriors, the faster these pigs will flee from our lands … I will send two of my men to bring these captives to the Dun of Lugus … then we will go find your army.”
We were quickly back on the road. We arrived at the site of the Roman castra during the fourth watch, about an hour before dawn. The army was already awake and pulling down their fortifications. We found Caesar and the command group with the Tenth Legion.
Rubigo reported to the Imperator. “The route is open all the way to the brid
ge at Lugdunum, maybe twenty, twenty-one-thousand passus,” he said. “One narrow spot along the way but the rest is wide open, dry and fairly flat. The enemy has patrols and raiding parties in the area, nothing big enough to threaten the army.”
Caesar was silent for a few heartbeats. Then, he responded, “Bene gestum, Decurio! Well done! Stand your men down until the third hour, then follow the army through to the bridge.”
Caesar turned to Labienus, “Titus, collect two turmae of cavalry from the Seventh and Ninth and one from the Tenth and have them report here at the head of the column!”
“A’mperi’tu’, Imperator,” Labienus responded. “Yes, General.”
“Rubigo, I have a favor to ask of you,” Caesar said to the cavalry decurio.
“Anything, General,” Rubigo responded.
“I know you’re tired, lad, but you know the route up to the bridge,” Caesar told him. “So, I need you to get a fresh horse and guide my cavalry detail along the route ahead of the army.”
“A’mperi’tu’, Imperator!” Rubigo snapped.
Then Caesar called over to a group of officers clustered about three paces off, “Pulcher! I need you!”
“Quid vis tu, Caesar?” the man responded walking over to where we were. “What do you want, Caesar?”
“Pulcher, I’m giving you command of five turmae of legionary cavalry,” Caesar instructed the officer. “Your mission is twofold. First, mark the route of march for the army. Have your troopers collect some of the markers the engineers use to survey the marching camps, and use them to mark the route. Is that clear?”
“Compre’endo!” Pulcher responded.
“Bene,” Caesar continued. “The redheaded decurio from the Tenth . . . Rubigo’s his name . . . he knows the route. Second, I want you to screen our route of march . . . Keep those barbarian cunni off our tails as we move up to the river . . . The threat is basically from the north and east along the route, but don’t be surprised if you run into stragglers . . . Grab two tribuni to assist you—a couple of those fuzz-faced angusticlavi attached to the Tenth who don’t seem to know what to do with themselves . . . I doubt the men will miss them . . . Any questions?”