The Helvetian Affair

by Ray Gleason

  And what a sight we saw!

  The entire valley below us was teeming with people, animals, tents, wagons, campfires, and equipment, all seeming to swirl about in smoke, noise, and colors. There must have been tens of thousands of them down there: men, women, and children—all seemingly without a care and behaving as if they were on some spring holiday. There was no sign of any military preparedness, no fortifications, no sentries, and no formations of armed men. Women went about their chores, many with babies on their hips; children chased each other about in mindless patterns; and the men seemed content to laze about around the fires and the tents.

  Caesar had his hand-drawn map out and was making corrections and notations with a piece of charcoal. “If I had two legions up here now, I could finish this thing by sundown,” I heard him whisper to Agrippa.

  “You see where the valley narrows a bit to the east?” he continued. “That’s where we want their main body to assemble. We want all their attention focused right there. Then, we sweep down on their flank and rear from this hill.”

  We remained in place for about half an hour before Caesar indicated he had seen enough. We withdrew from the hill and returned to the legionary castra.

  As soon as we got back, Caesar immediately set his plans in motion. He directed Labienus to summon his senior officers to a war council at the tenth hour, all his legates, the broad-stripers, and the primus pilus of each legion.

  While Labienus was about that, Caesar studied his maps and supervised Ebrius and his assistants in building in the sand table an accurate terrain model of what we had just observed. Caesar then had Ebrius’ clerks cut and paint a number of wooden blocks to represent military formations: red for Roman, with numerals indicating legion designation; black for the Helvetii, each representing five thousand warriors. Caesar arranged and rearranged the blocks on his sand table as he hypothesized various scenarios. When Labienus had finished arranging the war council, he joined Caesar at his sand table, and they discussed the various options.

  The council of war that assembled later that day in Caesar’s praetorium was very different from the previous meeting.

  Caesar began by announcing to his officers, “Gentlemen, we have located the main body of the enemy in a valley approximately ten thousand passus west of our location. It is my intention that this army will advance on the enemy, attack at dawn tomorrow, and destroy the Helvetii.”

  With Caesar’s pronouncement, I looked up from the tabula in which I was scribbling notes. There was absolute silence among the assembled officers, but I could see the knuckles of the senior centurions whiten as their grasp tightened around the hilts of their swords. After a few heartbeats, they began to nod in agreement. Caesar’s legates and the broad-stripe tribunes remained perfectly still.

  Caesar, standing over his terrain model using a sudis as a pointer, continued, “We are located approximately here. The enemy is spread out for about two thousand passus in this valley, here. They do not seem to be aware of, nor do they seem to care, about our proximity to them. They have made absolutely no defensive preparations.”

  When Caesar said this, I noticed that two or three of the senior centurions shook their heads and smirked. No Roman army would permit itself to be caught out in the open in enemy territory.

  Caesar continued, “It is my intention to attack using the basic hammer and anvil tactic. Labienus will command the ‘hammer,’ a task force of two legions, the Seventh and Eighth. I will command the ‘anvil,’ four legions, the veteran Ninth and Tenth and the two new legions, the Eleventh and Twelfth . . . Yes, Malleus?”

  “Imperator, what are your estimates of enemy strength in the valley?” the primus pilus of the Tenth Legion asked.

  Caesar smiled slightly and nodded. He knew where Malleus was going. He answered, “Our intelligence indicates that the Helvetii and their allies can field between twenty-five and thirty thousand trained warriors . . . probably twice that number in tribal levies. My observation of the enemy position this afternoon supports those estimates. Are you worried that there aren’t enough of them out there for each of your Tenth Legion boys to get at least ten each?”

  Malleus grinned broadly as he said, “No, Imperator . . . my boys’ll earn their ten copper asses a day . . . That’s a penny for each of those shaggy comati they stick. My concern is that we seem to be dividing our forces in the face of a numerically superior enemy. It seems to me that’s the way Caepio and Maximus screwed up against the Cimbri back in the day . . . No offense, Imperator.”

  Caesar leaned forward on the sudis. “And none taken, Malleus. As a senior centurion, your job is to keep the purple-striped nobs Rome keeps sending up here from totally screwing the pooch. Caepio and Maximius put a river between their two armies and did not exercise unified command. In fact, those two political stulti did everything they could to work against each other, and many good Roman soldiers died as a result of their arrogance and ambition. I have no intention of allowing that to happen to this army. The two wings of our army will always be under my command and will not become so separated that they cannot support each other should the enemy decide to attack. In fact, luring the Helvetii into attacking one of the columns is my plan. Allow me to continue.”

  Malleus nodded his credence to Caesar’s explanation. Caesar continued, “Labienus’ division will depart from this location at the beginning of the third watch. He will march along this northern route and get behind the enemy’s left flank by occupying this hill, here. Their primary goal is to reach this hilltop, which is their assault position, undetected. They will remain there in a concealed position until our main force has engaged the enemy’s front, here.”

  There were no questions, so Caesar continued, “I will lead the main body along this route, entering the enemy-occupied valley just before dawn at this point. We will advance toward the enemy and deploy across this narrow ground here . . . three legions forward in the acies triplex . . . the Tenth on the right flank, the Ninth in the center, and the Eleventh on the left. The Twelfth will serve as my reserve, deploying in a line of cohorts across the rear of the forward three legions. The objective of my division is to get the Helvetii to attack our line. The optimum point of contact is here, along this line, where our flanks will be secured by high ground. When the enemy has committed itself to that attack, Labienus’ division will advance from its concealed assault position and attack the enemy’s rear. These hursiti, hairbags, do not have the discipline to sustain a two-front battle. They’ll crumble when Labienus attacks. Then we finish it. Questions, gentlemen?”

  There was silence for a few heartbeats while the officers absorbed what Caesar had told them. Then Spurius Hosidius Quiricus, the primus pilus of the Ninth Legion, known around the camps as Quercus, the “Oak,” spoke up: “Imperator, I see you have one of the new legions, the Eleventh, on the battle line. Are you sure they’re up to it? No offense, Iudeaus!”

  Quercus was apologizing to Marcus Sestius, the primus pilus of the Eleventh. Sestius was an old hand who had served with Pompeius in the east and was wounded in a skirmish in eastern Syria. A Greek hoplite had tried to drive his spear into Sestius’ left thigh but missed his aim slightly. Ever since then, the boys referred to the centurion as Iudaeus after one of the eastern tribes which practiced some bizarre ritual on the penises of the males of their tribe. Iudeaus didn’t seem to care about the nickname and always asserted that, despite the wound, the mulieres castrorum never complained.

  “None taken, Quercus,” Iudaeus answered. “My boys’re up to it.”

  As Quercus nodded, Caesar said, “I expect the Helvetii to send in their tribal levies first to soften us up for the warriors. I expect that they’ll falter after our first volleys with the pila. Before their chiefs can rally them, Labienus should be down on them. Then, the acies prima can move forward into the valley and clean them out.”

  The officers nodded. As Caesar said, it was a classic tactic: hammer and anvil.

  Caesar continued, “That’s where you a
nd your cavalry come in, Crassus!” With his sudis, Caesar pointed to a round, red block on the left flank of the legionary line. “I’m concentrating the legionary cavalry on the left flank. That way they won’t get tangled up with Labienus’ boys, who will be in front of our right flank. The cavalry will advance apace with the infantry front line—until I give the signal from my position on the right flank. At that signal, you will attack down the valley. Stampede them, Crassus . . . Kill as many as you can . . . Panic them! The limit of your advance is here where this small stream crosses the valley, or when I signal the recall. I want you to position yourself in front of the main body of the cavalry, Crassus. Right up with the forward edge of the infantry line. If you spot an opportunity, an opening, you go! Even if I haven’t signaled the advance, you go! Can you do that for me?”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Imperator,” Crassus responded. I smiled to myself as I noted down his response. Looked like that pretty boy was finally going to get some mud on his boots.

  “Bene,” Caesar acknowledged. “I’m deploying the auxiliary cavalry on our flanks for security.” He pointed to another round, red block positioned to the north, saying, “Madocus Dux, I want your boys on the northern flank, watching the approaches from Bibracte. I want no surprises from our socii, the Aedui, during this operation.”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Caesar!” I heard Madog’s voice among the crowd of Romans.

  “ Bene,” Caesar said. “Assignments for the legates . . . Labienus, you’re with the Seventh . . . Cotta, you go in with the Eighth in Labienus’ division . . . The rest will march with me . . . Pedius, the Ninth . . . Rufus, the Eleventh . . . Vatinius, the Twelfth . . . Crassus, you have the cavalry. I’m with the Tenth. The boys’ll march light . . . basic combat load . . . one day’s rations and water. We won’t be pulling down our marching camps here when we pull out. Each legion will detach its tenth cohort to secure their castrum and their baggage. Pulcher, you’ll be in charge of the castra. If you’re attacked by an overwhelming force, you can consolidate the cohorts in one of the camps until we can relieve you. But, you are to hold this position . . . Compre’endis?”

  Caesar was ensuring that the army had somewhere to retreat to in the event that the beehive he was about to kick over proved more dangerous and powerful than he had estimated, especially now that he could no longer rely on the good will of the Aedui.

  “ Compre’endo, Imperator!” I heard Pulcher’s voice sound. Pulcher had been on his best behavior since Caesar had relegated him to the ash and trash detail.

  “Bene, gentlemen!” Caesar concluded. “Labienus’ division pulls out at the beginning of the third watch. My division, an hour after that. Remember, Asellio writes, ‘Audaces amat Fortuna! Fortune favors the bold!’ Let’s finish this thing! Return to your commands! Miss’est!”

  I am glad that at that point in my career, I hadn’t yet read the Rerum Gestarum Libri of Sempronius Asellio, the histories of the Third Punic War, because then I would have known that he also wrote, “No military plan survives the first step of its implementation.”

  After the officers had left, I waited while Caesar gave some directions to Labienus. “Titus, it’s absolutely imperative that you get your legions in position without being detected by the Helvetii. Also, do not reveal yourself to them or commit yourself to the attack until you’re absolutely sure that my division is in position. We should be visible from your position, and you’ll hear my attack signals. Your two veteran legions, even on high ground, may not be enough to withstand a determined attack by that horde. Despite what I told Malleus, if the enemy gets between me and you, I’m not sure I can get to you, and we want no repeat of the Cimbri disaster. If you’re detected by the enemy during your approach to the assault position, break off and return here. Warn me by cavalry couriers, and I’ll withdraw my division. But again, you’re to initiate no attack unless I’m in position. Wait until you see their backs; then you go in.”

  “Compre’endo, Caesar,” Labienus responded.

  “Good man!” Caesar responded, clapping Labienus on the shoulder. “Get your boys ready, and I’ll see you before you pull out.”

  Labienus walked away, and I offered Caesar the tabula with the meeting notes for his review. “I don’t need to see that, Insubrecus,” he said. “Just give it to Ebrius for the file.”

  Then, after a moment, he said, “I’m sending you up north with Agrippa and the Sequani. Sorry. You’re going to miss the big show, but whatever the Aedui are up to is critical to me. I’m as interested in who enters Bibracte as I am in who departs . . . Those cunni are up to something, and I’m convinced now that someone down in Rome is pulling their strings. Agrippa knows to keep a low profile up there, but if you can grab hold of someone who can help me understand what in the name of Nemesis is going on . . . I don’t care if it’s a Roman, an Aeduus, a Helvetius, or a blue-painted Briton . . . Grab him up, and bring him to me in a condition in which he can still talk.”

  XI.

  Calamitas Itera

  ANOTHER DISASTER

  Multo denique die per exploratores Caesar cognovit et montem a suis teneri et Helvetios castra movisse et Considium timore perterritum quod non vidisset pro viso sibi renuntiavisse.

  “Finally, after most of the day had passed, Caesar discovered from his scouts that the mountain was occupied by his forces and that the Helvetians had moved their camps. Caesar now understood that Considius had lost his nerve, and what he had reported to Caesar as having been personally seen by him, he had not actually seen.”

  (from Gaius Marius Insubrecus’ notebook of Caesar’s journal)

  At the time, I was not sure whether I was disappointed or relieved— disappointed about missing what Caesar called “the big show,” or relieved knowing that I wouldn’t be trapped in a narrow valley upto my ass in frenzied hairbags screaming for my blood. By the end of the second watch that night, while the Roman camps were in a maelstrom of movement and noise, I was mounted and moving north with Agrippa and the Sequani cavalry. We encountered no enemy counter-reconnaissance patrols. It was as if the Helvetii just didn’t care that a Roman army was less than ten thousand passus away from their main camps.

  We rode hard and arrived at a wooded ridgeline overlooking a broad valley by dawn. From there we could see the dark, hulking mass that was the dun, the royal fortress-city of the Aedui, Bibracte.

  The oppidum sat on a double hill, a higher summit to the east with a lower summit to the west and north. It was surrounded by two walls. The lower, which seemed to surround the entire bottom of both hills, was almost fifteen pedes in height and built of stone reinforced with logs. The second, which stretched higher along the slope around the double peaks of the hill, had a sturdy, log fronting. I assumed the logs held a thick core of soil and spoil, like the walls of a permanent legionary camp. From where we stood, we could see a road leading from the south and west, entering the fortress through a large, well-guarded, and fortified gate.

  “That not main gate,” Madog was telling Agrippa. “That on the north side of oppidum. But, if Aedui talk to Helvetii, that road runners to use.”

  “Bene,” Agrippa agreed. “Let’s put an ala across that road. I expect that when Caesar attacks, the Helvetii will send a courier up to inform Diviciacus. If that happens, we’ll let the courier pass. If a response is sent, that’s the one we’ll intercept. But, we’ll want the courier alive.”

  “Maybe response from Aedui is attack Romans,” Madog cautioned.

  “Then, we don’t need the messenger,” Agrippa said. “We ride south and warn Caesar.”

  Agrippa noticed me looking away to the south. “You see something, Decurio?” he asked.

  “Aliquid non cerno, Tribune,” I answered. “No, sir. I was just wondering why we can hear nothing from the south.”

  Agrippa shrugged, “The army’s in a valley over twenty thousand passus away. We may not hear the battle here. So, let’s stay focused on our own mission.”

  I nodded. Still it seemed strange
to me that two huge armies were locked in a decisive struggle a few thousand passus to the south, yet here, there was no indication of it.

  Madog was talking, “Other gate for north road; we need watch.”

  Agrippa grunted his assent. “Where is it?” he asked Madog.

  “To north,” Madog answered, pointing, “other side hill that direction.”

  Agrippa nodded. “That’s your job, Insubrecus. You and Athauhnu work your way around there without being seen. Get a good, concealed observation position. Same deal. You see any known enemy couriers, snatch them up on their way out, though I doubt you’ll see any Helvetii north of here. And, if the Aedui move south, they’ll probably come this way. Greek or Roman merchants, you see any of them, stop and question them. Hold them until you withdraw. I want you back here by the sixth hour. By that time the battle in the south should be decided. I’ll stay in this area. Madog, will you take the south road?”

  Just before Athauhnu and I pulled out, Agrippa said to me, “Take a good look at the defenses, Insubrecus . . . any weaknesses you can see . . . places where the walls need repair . . . gaps . . . low spots. Pay special attention to water breaks, sewers, or streams. I have a feeling we’re going to be back here in a couple of days and the boss is going to want to take this place apart.”

  It took Athauhnu and me the better part of an hour to work our way around to the north. We passed a few farmsteads, to which we gave a wide berth. We had a nervous few moments when a farmer’s dog took a noisy and somewhat passionate interest in our presence. But, for the most part, the land around Bibracte was quiet and sparsely inhabited.

  By the second hour, we were on well-wooded, high ground from where we could see a road winding down from the north and another coming in from the northwest. They met at a large gate piercing the lower wall of Bibracte. It was as Madog said. This gate was larger, more formidable than the one in the south. Dressed in the red-plaid tartans of the Aeduan royal house, a detachment of about ten Aedui warriors were guarding the double portal and collecting tolls from those wanting entry and duties from those leaving. We guessed there were more troops concealed in the gatehouse.