The Helvetian Affair

by Ray Gleason

  I continued to wonder what Spina had put in Caesar’s drink.

  “Look at Insubrecus, here!” Caesar went on. “He represents the future of Rome! He’s one generation out of a round hut; his grandfather wore trousers just like the Helvetii we’re chasing across terrae comatorum, the lands of the hairbags. But, he is the future of Rome—not those over-educated, inbred senatorials down in Rome who think they have the right to rule the world because some boot-licking, scroll-sniffing charlatan told them they’re descended from Romulus! Bah!”

  Labienus was sweating freely by this time. He was devoted to the legendary Rome of Mucius Scaevola, Scipio Africanus, and Cato the Elder. Or, at least he was devoted to the legends of these heroes from the dim chronicles of our history.

  “When I return to Rome from this command,” Caesar continued, “I plan to introduce legislation to offer the franchise to Gallia Cisalpina and all of Italia—”

  “Certainly, that will not pass the Senate!” Labienus protested.

  “Politics, my dear Labienus! Politics!” Caesar snorted. “As long as I, and my tame, plebian tribunes, support land reforms for Pompeius and oppose debt reduction for Crassus, it will pass. Believe me! Those doddering old fools in the Senate love their luxuries and fear the gangs of Clodius and Milo more than they cherish their mos maiorum. And that’s only the beginning!”

  Caesar went on like that well into the night, until the wine and drugs finally took hold of him. As we were sitting in that tent that summer night about twenty thousand passus south of Bibracte, we had no idea how Nona was spinning out the threads of our destinies: the death of Caesar’s daughter, Iulia, and his split with Pompeius; the death of Crassus in the land of the Parthians; Labienus’ death while fighting against Caesar in the civil wars; Caesar’s own death at the hands of those to whom he had granted his clementia. No! As we sat and drank posca that night in Gallia, all of that lay well in the future.

  Caesar’s plans for Rome and the fumes of the posca I had drunk the night before were fogging my head as we pounded north into the darkness on our way to Bibracte.

  Before I returned to my quarters the night before, Labienus had confided in me that Pulcher did, in fact, possess a written directive apparently issued by Caesar’s headquarters, ordering the immediate release of the Aeduan prince, Dumnorix. Pulcher claimed that the directive had been delivered to him by an angusticlavus, a narrow-striper whom he did not recognize.

  Regardless, Pulcher was finished in the army.

  Labienus advised him to pack his kit and be on the road to Massalia before Caesar remembered his threat to crucify him. Not that even a proconsul with full imperium could, or would, execute a citizen, a patrician, and a senatorial, like a slave, but why test the theory? Labienus told Pulcher to be on a ship to Ostia before Caesar had a chance to try to make good on his threat.

  The issue that really worried Labienus was that there were obviously Roman officers serving within the army who were actively engaged in undermining Caesar and his efforts to bring the Helvetii to heel.

  By dawn the Sequani cavalry turma was positioned across the only major avenue of approach from the east that could cut across Caesar’s line of advance. It was more of a pathway than a road that travelers had created following a tributary river up from the Rhonus Valley.

  Agrippa and Madog had advanced as a recon in force some two to three thousand passus down the narrow, wooded valley. Athauhnu and I were positioned where the road from the east broke out of a valley and joined the road from the south we had taken from Caesar’s camps. From there, both roads ran toward the west, up into a broader valley, which we expected our army to cross on its way to Bibracte. We weren’t expecting any problems. We assumed the main body of the enemy was well to the west.

  As usual, Alaw and Rhodri were deployed a few hundred passus down the road to the east. Guithiru was deployed with five of our troopers to screen our rear. The morning sun was beginning to warm me and diffuse the fumes in my head. Athauhnu seemed quite amused by my damaged condition.

  “I have known men who had to drink for courage before battle,” he joked, “but you’re the first one I’ve ever known who gets drunk the night before so he’s hungover for the battle!”

  “Not today,” I dismissed him. “I’m in no condition.”

  Athauhnu reached into his marsupium and handed me what looked like a dried out twig. “Here! Chew on this. It will clear your head,” he offered.

  I took the stick and examined it.

  “Go ahead, Arth Bek!” Athauhnu encouraged. “I wouldn’t poison you.”

  I chewed a bit on the twig. It did seem to help a little.

  “Madog is concerned about the Caisar,” I heard Athauhnu say.

  “Concerned about the Caisar?” I questioned. “In what way?”

  Athauhnu shrugged. “Madog says that last night, Caesar had a . . . a spell . . . and when he recovered, he decided to go to Bibracte.”

  “Caesar knows what he’s doing,” I defended my patronus.

  Again, Athauhnu shrugged. “At times the gods send madness to cause a man to destroy himself. We march north, with the Helvetii behind us and the Aedui in front of us. If things go badly, we Soucanai will go east back into our own lands. You should come with us, Arth Bek. The Aedui will show no mercy to defeated Romans.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that. In the case of a defeat, escaping to the east made sense. But, that would mean abandoning Caesar and the Roman army, to which the sacramentum bound me until dismissal or death.

  Before I could formulate a response, two riders came pounding up the trail from the east. It was Alaw and a trooper that had gone forward with Madog. They pulled up in front of Athauhnu. “A Pen! Uh doucliau geluhnai!” Alaw reported. “Chief! The enemy’s coming!”

  “Uh geluhnai?” Athauhnu questioned. “The enemy? The River People . . . the Helvetii?”

  “Na, Pen!” the man responded. “Almaenwuhra! Germans!”

  “How many?” Athauhnu asked the man.

  The messenger shrugged. “The valley is narrow . . . the road twisted . . . They advance without fear. Madog believes there are many.”

  “Cavalry?” Athauhnu pressed the man.

  “We have seen only mounted men,” the man confirmed.

  Athauhnu nodded and walked over to his horse. He took a hunting horn that had been attached to his saddle and blew some discordant notes to assemble his ala.

  Then, he surveyed our position. “See that rise there?” he asked the messenger, pointing to where the ground rose to meet the road from the south. “Tell Madog I will assemble my troop there.”

  The Alaw nodded, and he and his companion turned back down the road. He passed Rhodri riding in, in response to Athauhnu’s summons. Soon, Guithiru and his detail returned.

  Athauhnu mounted and quickly briefed his men: “The enemy approaches from the east. Germans! We do not know how many. Madog is withdrawing to our position. We will move west up the valley. We will stay above the Germans, between them and the Romans. When they reach this point, they will have to deploy . . . spread out. Then we will see how many we’re dealing with.”

  “A Pen, the sun will be in our eyes!” Guithiru observed.

  “It can’t be helped,” Athauhnu stated. “We will keep the higher ground.

  They are mounted! If there are too many to fight, we will escape to the west, toward the Romans.”

  Guithiru grunted.

  We withdrew to the top of the rise and deployed, in line, facing the opening of the road below. There we waited. To our rear, the valley rose gently toward the north and west. Whoever these Germans were, they were heading right into the flank of the advancing Roman army.

  We seemed to wait for an eternity before we spotted movement on the road below. I could sense our troopers tense as the first riders became visible below us. They were ours! Athauhnu signaled to them with his hands. They quickly joined us, assembling in line on our left flank. Their leader approached Athauhnu. He was a veter
an warrior called Ci, the “Hound.”

  “A Pen!” he reported to Athauhnu, “the Germans advance . . . Madog has engaged but withdraws before them.”

  Athauhnu grunted and nodded. Ci rejoined his troop.

  Again, we waited. At least the flies that started buzzing around in my stomach made me forget about the pain in my head. Suddenly, I realized that I had thoroughly chewed the twig Athauhnu had given me earlier. I spit it out.

  Athauhnu kept his eyes on the opening of the road below us, but said to me out of the side of his mouth, “This is the worst time . . . just before the enemy comes. Once they are here, we won’t have time to be afraid.”

  I nodded, grateful for Athauhnu’s use of the word “we.”

  Soon, Madog’s men came up the road. Again, Athauhnu waved and pointed to our right flank. Madog and Agrippa were the last riders to emerge. Madog had a man behind him on his horse. I heard Athauhnu mutter, “Two missing.”

  Athauhnu waved again. Agrippa and Madog joined us in the center of the Sequani line. The man riding behind Madog dropped off the horse. Then, I saw that he had the stub of an arrow protruding from his thigh.

  Madog caught me looking at the man. “German horsemen do not carry bows,” he said in Gah’el. “There are warriors on foot down there.”

  “Pedes?” I responded in Latin. “Infantry?”

  Agrippa heard me. “Pedes, Insubrece! I don’t think this is a raiding party coming in from the east. I need to get an idea how many Krauts are coming up that road, then warn Caesar.”

  Alaw pointed toward the road below us. “Pen! Maint uhn dod! Chief! They’re here!”

  German riders were emerging from the valley and filling the field below us. They saw us but didn’t seem at all concerned. There didn’t seem to be any organization. They milled around in the field below us, some pointing toward us, with others just roaming about.

  Their equipment wasn’t impressive. Some had bronze helmets, others leather, some none at all. I could see no chainmail, but I did see some leather loricae. Most of them carried either lances or stabbing spears.

  I heard Madog spit, “Farmers on horses!”

  Then, another group of warriors emerged from the narrow valley. These men were well-equipped, with steel helmets, chainmail, and large, round shields with the image of what looked like a red oxen with long horns painted over the boss. Each had a red, horsehair topknot trailing from his helmet. One rider, a giant with a red beard, emerged from the trail. Directly behind him rode a mounted warrior carrying a totem on a spear shaft, with long, black oxen horns and a skirt of a black pelt below it.

  “That one must be their eorle,” I heard Athauhnu use an unfamiliar term.

  “What’s an eorle?” I asked out of the side of my mouth, afraid to take my eyes off the giant below us.

  “That’s what the Germans call their penai, their chiefs,” Athauhnu answered. “The riders with him are his gedricht, his fintai. He equips them, feeds them, and they are sworn to protect him in battle or die with him. The Germans believe that any member of the gedricht who survives a battle in which their chief dies is cursed to wander the middle lands alone, an outcast.”

  Madog interrupted us, pointing down at the Kraut standard. “That is the totem of the Aurochs. They are Germans . . . the People of the Aurochs . . . You Romans call them Boii . . . the ‘cow people.’ And that is no eorle! That is their ciuning . . . their tribal king . . . look. There are at least fifty riders in his fintai. No eorle could support so many. That is the tribal muster coming up the trail . . . Thousands would be my guess.”

  As he spoke, well-armed warriors on foot emerged from the valley. They didn’t march in step or in any recognizable formation as did the legions. They just poured out onto the open area below us. The men wore bronze or steel helmets, many with cheek guards and some with bands of metal extending down over their noses. Some carried spears; some war axes. Each wore a long sword on his left side and a shorter sword on his right. Every one of them carried an oversized, round shield. They poured out of the valley in the hundreds.

  “Those are cnihtas, the professional warriors of the tribe,” Madog said. “They are dugath, veterani, blooded warriors. They form the scilde wealle, the shield wall, in the center of the battle line. Behind them march the iougath, the young warriors, boys who have yet to be blooded. They stand behind the shield wall. And, behind them, the fiurd, the tribal muster. They form the flanks of the battle line in the defense. When the Germans attack, they’re the shock troops. They disrupt the enemy’s line so the dugath can get in among them and do the real killing. That’s a tribal assembly down there. The Boii are going to war against the Caisar.”

  It was just then that we heard a trumpet call in the distance behind us.

  “Caesar?” I asked.

  “It must be,” Agrippa answered, “but, if the army’s on the march, why would it be sounding trumpet signals?”

  Down below we could see the Boii king haranguing his cavalry and pointing up the slopes toward us.

  “I think that big Kraut down there with the red beard wants us out of here,” Agrippa observed.

  I translated for Madog, but he had understood most of it. “Tribune right. Time go away for us,” he announced in Latin.

  Madog made sure that the wounded man had been mounted behind another warrior. He was about to signal his riders to withdraw to the west when Agrippa said, “We can’t leave yet.”

  Madog froze. Then, he said in Latin, “Stay here, madness! Why no go?”

  “Where are the Tulingi?” Agrippa asked. “The Tulingi were marching with the Boii. Where are they?”

  Before Madog could answer, we could see the German riders begin to move toward us. There was no order to their advance, just knots of three to six riders beginning to move up the slope toward us. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to attack uphill into what appeared to be a disciplined and well-equipped Roman cavalry detachment.

  Madog quickly snapped out some orders. Athauhnu and Ci were quickly to withdraw five hundred passus to the west. Madog’s ala would screen the withdrawal from the German cavalry. I translated for Agrippa, who nodded and said, “You stay with Athauhnu. I’m with Madocus!”

  Before I turned my horse, I looked down the hill. The German dugath was still emerging from the valley. They were milling about down there, waiting for their horsemen to clear us off the ridge. There had to be almost two cohorts of them below us.

  Athauhnu gave Ci the order to withdraw. We cantered our horses back to our new position. There was no point in winding them; we didn’t know what was in store for us. We followed the valley floor as it gently rose toward the northwest. When we arrived at our new position, I could clearly hear Roman signal trumpets away to the west. I remembered some of the signals from my training. I thought I heard “assemble.” And, the only reason I could think of to sound that command while on the march was contact with the enemy. But, which enemy: Helvetii, Aedui, or both?

  To our east, Agrippa and Madog withdrew slowly toward our position. The German cavalry followed cautiously, without any semblance of purpose or organization. They maintained a healthy distance from the Sequani riders. Finally, Agrippa and Madog joined us. The Germans continued to maintain a safe distance. They halted in small groups of seven to ten riders about a hundred passus to our front. There were no more than fifty of them below us. There was no sign of the German infantry cresting the ridge to the east.

  I reported to Agrippa: “I can hear our army. They seem to be no more than three to five thousand passus up the valley. I think they’re engaging the enemy.”

  “Is the enemy between us and the legions?” Agrippa asked.

  I hadn’t thought of that. “I . . . I don’t know, Tribune. There is no sign of enemy troops to our rear . . . just the sound of Roman trumpets.”

  Agrippa stared up the valley for a few heartbeats, then shrugged, “Can’t worry about that now. We’re not finished here yet . . . Madocus Dux!”

  Madog sid
led up next to Agrippa, “Quid vis tu, Tribune?” he asked. “What do you want, Tribune?”

  “We’re going to teach those arrogant verpae a lesson. We attack!” Agrippa said, pointing toward the motley assemblage of German riders.

  Madog nodded and called for Ci. Athauhnu was mounted beside me.

  “Three wedges,” Agrippa instructed. “Madocus’ ala center, Adonus left, and Caius right. I’m with Madocus. Insubrecus with Adonus. We advance no farther than our last position on the ridge.”

  I translated for Athauhnu and Ci. Athauhnu spoke up, “They are too close. We will not be able to get the horses to the gallop before we’re among them.”

  I translated that for Agrippa. He nodded and said, “You are correct, Adonus Decurio, but I do not believe that will make much of a difference with that rabble. They’ll run as soon as they see us advance. I want one last look at the Kraut infantry. I want to see if we can locate the Tulingi down there with the Boii. And last, I want the German cavalry terrified that their infantry will have to advance blind, with no cavalry screen. That should slow them down some.”

  I translated. Both Athauhnu and Ci grunted and eagerly nodded in agreement. There was a blood debt. The Germans had raided their lands, burned their homes, and raped their women. Now they must pay.

  Agrippa wasted no time. He and Madog trotted back to their band of riders and almost immediately moved forward toward the Germans. Athauhnu and I moved our men to Agrippa’s left; Ci moved to the right. The cavalry wedges formed naturally as we advanced. But, I heard Agrippa give the command, “Alae . . . ad . . . cuneum! Troops . . . form . . . wedge!” I shrugged my shield off my shoulder. Strapping it to my left arm, I fell in behind Athauhnu on his left.