by R. W. Peake
It was late autumn when we were dispersed; the 10th marching with Labienus once again, this time to a camp about 60 miles northeast of Duroctorum, setting up on a substantial island in the middle of our old friend the Axona River. Gaius Fabius took the 8th to winter in the lands of the Morini, Cicero took the 7th to watch the Nervii, setting up camp on the Sabis. Three Legions, the 9th, 11th and 12th, were stationed in the area of Samarobriva, along with five Cohorts of the 13th. The remaining Cohorts of the 13th and the 14th, under the combined commands of the former Tribune, now Legate Sabinus and another Legate Cotta were sent to Atuatuca, in Eburone territory. It was this dispersion whereby Caesar unwittingly helped fan the flames of rebellion, giving the Gauls their first opportunity to strike a blow at Rome that would not instantly lead to their annihilation. First to feel the wrath of the Gauls was the 13th and 14th, where Ambiorix, the chief of the Eburones, waited just long enough for the Legions to build their winter camp, get settled in and begin to believe all was well before he attacked, laying siege to the camp. As we would learn later, this was no random move by a single chief eager to win notoriety with his people; Ambiorix was urged to the attack by none other than Indutiomarus, the chief of the Treveri, who promised to rise in revolt at the same time. Caesar had dealt with Ambiorix before, so he sent two men that served as his emissaries in his past dealings with the chief, Gaius Arpineius and Quintus Junius, and they accompanied Sabinus and Cotta in the event that there needed to be some form of dealings with Ambiorix. Ambiorix used this familiarity, first by asking for a truce whereby he could parley with our commanders, then once the truce was granted, Ambiorix relied on this relationship with these two men to offer an honorable way to end the siege, swearing that if the troops surrendered, they would be allowed to leave unharmed. Apparently, there was a heated argument between Sabinus and Cotta on whether to accept the terms; Ambiorix also claimed that within two days, a large force of hired Germans would be at the camp and once they arrived Ambiorix would be unable to forestall the inevitable slaughter. He further claimed that he was being forced to lead this attack by his people, at the risk of death if he did not agree. Ambiorix insisted that was the only reason he did so, recognizing how much he owed to Caesar for his position and for the return of his own son from bondage by another tribe, which Caesar had arranged. One thing in which all the Roman commanders apparently agreed was the fact that a tribe like the Eburones, who had never been considered one of the more belligerent tribes, were unlikely to do this on their own. With this offer from Ambiorix in hand, Sabinus and Cotta ordered a council of war, which the Tribunes and Centurions attended. One Tribune, Arunculeius by name, was obviously made of sterner stuff than some of his comrades, arguing against accepting terms and pointing out the security of their position, along with the fact that they already repulsed the first assault on the camp with heavy losses to the enemy. On the opposing side was one Quintus Titurius, a friend of the emissary Arpineius who countered that, as all agreed, Ambiorix would not take such an action unless he was sure of the outcome. One of the reasons he could be sure, Titurius argued, was his belief that Caesar had already left the country and returned to the Province. Besides, if they chose to stay, the only way to find out who was right and who was wrong would be to fight and probably die at the hands of Germans, who were still angry about the thrashing given to Ariovistus a few years before. Finally, he asked, if we do not leave here under the terms promised by Ambiorix, what was the plan of the Legates? What stratagem did they have in their bag of tricks to get them out of this mess? The result was that Sabinus landed on the side of Titurius, much to the fury of Cotta, and supposedly the argument raged for multiple watches. It must be said here, for the sake of truth, that the troops loathed Sabinus, who was a political appointee and a Legate in name only. The earlier successes of Sabinus, it was said around the fires, were more despite his presence than because of it. Unfortunately, of the two he was senior, and if there is one thing that is ingrained in a tiro from the first day, it is obedience to orders, instantly and without any hesitation. Therefore, word was sent that the terms offered by Ambiorix were accepted, and arrangements were made for the 14th Legion, along with their unlucky comrades of the 13th, to march out of the camp the next day.
What happened is well documented, and is an unfortunate blot on the honor, not just of Caesar but the whole army. I can only imagine the glee with which Ambiorix heard about the acceptance of his terms, while I also think there might have been some disbelief that his trap was entered so easily. Now all that remained was for it to be sprung, and it was, in the form of an ambush in the first wooded area into which the Legion marched. About two miles from the camp, just as the Legion descended into a ravine, the jaws of the trap snapped shut in the form of a very large force that appeared not only on both flanks, but at the rear of the formation once the baggage train entered. From what was extracted under torture from Eburones there at the time, apparently the only senior officer that acquitted himself with any honor was Cotta, who had apparently resigned himself to this happening. Titurius, by every prisoner's account, yielded to panic, running every which way trying to put Cohorts into position, all to no avail. Finally, Sabinus ordered the abandonment of the baggage train and the Legion formed into the orbis¸ as sure a signal to a ranker that all is essentially lost as waving a white flag. For some men, this gives them the courage of the damned, and they fight like heroes of Troy; for other men, they meekly await what they believe to be the inevitable in their death. Such resignation can infect a Legion quickly, and I am as sure as an old soldier can be that this was part of the problem. Enough of the men of the 14th reacted in the former manner to not only impose a high cost on the enemy, but to force the Eburones to adopt a new tactic. Ambiorix ordered his men to move a safe distance away before continuing the assault by missiles, using both javelins and slings. It was in this manner that the second phase of the battle, if such can be called began, with men continuing to fall. Making things even more difficult were some of the greedier Legionaries dashing from the formation to run to the baggage train in an attempt to retrieve their valuables, only to be inevitably cut down. Finally, Titurius spotted Ambiorix in the formation and asked for a parley, which was granted. Ambiorix proceeded to tell him that he had no objections, but the Romans would have to approach where Ambiorix was standing, instead of meeting halfway as was normal. Titurius went to ask Cotta if he wanted to go along to parley with Ambiorix, yet Cotta, despite already being wounded, resolutely refused to place himself at the mercy of Ambiorix. He was the smart one; Titurius convinced Sabinus, and most shamefully to those of us in the ranks, some of the senior Centurions to go along with him. When they approached Ambiorix, they were ordered to drop their weapons, which they did, whereupon Ambiorix had them slaughtered where they stood. Now without many of the senior leaders, the Legion was doomed, and I have little doubt that they knew it.
Despite their desperate situation, the remaining Centurions ordered a fighting withdrawal back to the camp, which they performed, battling every step of the way. I can only imagine the agony of those two miles, yet somehow, a small number of men, perhaps 300 in all, made it back to the walls of the camp. The aquilifer of the 14th Legion, a man named Lucius Petrosidius was trapped against the wall of the camp, unable to break free of the press of the Eburones, who knew how highly we value the symbol of our Legion and were as equally determined to take it as he was to keep it. Even with him putting up a ferocious fight, he clearly saw that he was doomed, so rather than let the eagle fall into the hands of the enemy, he threw it over the wall before being cut down. The remainder of the men managed to make it into the camp, yet despite the temporary respite, they knew that their overall situation was hopeless. That night, rather than fall into enemy hands, they made a pact, killing themselves to a man. Some men, perhaps 50 all told, made a break for the woods beyond the camp rather than entering it, at least that was their story when they finally made their way to our camp some 50 miles away. I do not doubt th
at many of these men were truthful, that they fought their way out of the ambush back to the camp, whereupon they decided to throw the dice, betting on the uncertain safety of the forest, but which also provided the only chance of living past the next few watches. Their wounds, the condition of their clothing and most importantly, the look in their eyes told us that they were speaking the truth. There were others, however, whose condition was suspiciously good for what they had supposedly been through, and these men were treated with suspicion and hostility. Every Legion, no matter how stalwart, has its share of men who are the first to break and run when things get dangerous, even though it is a risky thing to do, since the punishment for such behavior is death by beating from your comrades. But in our army, where even the newer Legions had served for a couple of years, the most obviously cowardly of the lot had long since disappeared, one way or another. Those men left who were of a similar mind were much more cunning, having learned how to disguise their flight as something other than cowardice. Even in my own tent section, we had a man who was of such a nature, but as much as I hate to be fair to Didius, he was not a complete coward. Whatever the cause, these men who escaped brought us tidings of the greatest disaster to befall our army, and Caesar, since we were in Gaul.
This disaster was just the beginning of the troubles. Ambiorix, flushed with success, headed into the territory of the Aduatuci, persuading them to join his cause. Following that, he moved into the lands of the Nervii, our old enemies, who we had been told were slaughtered at the river that day. Despite the fact that they were greatly diminished in numbers, they were not the 500 warriors that the old men claimed; it was during this time we learned definitively that more than 7,000 had escaped into the woods. They needed little prodding to throw their lot in with Ambiorix and the Eburones, and it was to the younger Cicero’s camp that they headed next. Ambiorix had set out almost immediately after the bodies of the remaining men in the camp of the 14th that slew themselves were discovered, with he and a group of horsemen riding hard to reach first the Aduatuci, then the Nervii. Because of the speed of his advance, word of the disaster had not yet reached Cicero’s camp; piecing things together later, we calculated that the first of the survivors of the massacre were just arriving at our camp when the combined host of Gauls swooped down onto Cicero and the 7th. They first surprised a group of men out on woodcutting detail, slaughtering a full Century to a man, before surrounding the camp and beginning the assault. It was only the courage and steadfastness of the men of the 7th that kept the enemy at bay that first day, and from all accounts, it was a close-run, desperate thing, yet when night fell our boys still held the camp. Cicero possessed the presence of mind to send not just one but several messengers to Caesar telling him of his predicament, although he and his men held little hope that they would be able to hold out long enough for relief, even if any of the messengers got through to Caesar. During that first night, all the men of the 7th, even those on the sick list because of a bloody flux that was sweeping through the camp, along with men wounded in that first day, pitched in to strengthen their defenses and repair the damage to the camp suffered during the first assault.
Such was the nature of the siege of Cicero’s camp; during the day the Gauls would do everything in their power to create a breach in the wall but never succeed, with the men of the 7th spending the night patching up holes and repairing damage. Cicero knew that every day he held out was one day closer to Caesar coming to the relief. Regardless, he continued to send messages out with volunteers, giving Caesar an almost watch by watch account of what was taking place. Fortunately, Cicero had another ally, although he probably was not aware of it at the time, and that was the impatient nature of the Gauls themselves. Ambiorix's men were becoming bored, and he knew that time was no longer on his side because he faced either the appearance of Caesar, who by this time would undoubtedly have learned of the fate of the men of the 13th and 14th, or the disappearance of his own army as winter began to settle in. It was this that spurred him to ask for a parley with Cicero, determined to use the same ruse that had worked with Sabinus. Cicero, despite being something of a dandy who loved to spend his time spouting philosophy of the Epicurean school and writing tragic plays, was still made of much better stuff than Sabinus, so that when Ambiorix made his proposition, Cicero calmly replied that the only way he could intercede with Caesar on behalf of Ambiorix was if the Gauls immediately threw down their weapons and begged for mercy. By all accounts, Ambiorix was thunderstruck; here he was with a vastly superior force, besieging an enemy with little hope of relief, yet the commander of the besieged army is blithely advising Ambiorix to surrender immediately! I can tell you that when word of this spread through the army, our opinion of Cicero rose to the heavens. His generous offer turned down, Ambiorix left the parley in a fury, deciding another change of tactics was in order. As I have mentioned, the Gauls have no experience, and for the most part no interest in the science of siege warfare, except this occasion was different. Knowing his time was running out, Ambiorix decided to adopt our own tactics and began, in the Gallic way of course, to build siege engines, mantlets and towers to assault the camp.
Under the eyes of the dismayed Legionaries, the Gauls prepared to conduct a Roman-style assault on the camp. On the seventh day of the siege, a great windstorm blew up that the Gauls decided to take advantage of, despite the fact all of their preparations were not completed. Using small pots of burning pitch, flaming arrows and other such devices, they showered the camp with these fiery missiles, relying on the wind to whip the flames and spread them quickly onto anything flammable. However, despite succeeding in destroying most of the buildings in the camp, and almost all of the men’s personal property, they did not succeed in diverting the attention of the men of the 7th away from the walls. Without as much as a glance back at all of their possessions going up in flames, they stood at the walls, waiting for the onslaught. The Gauls had only managed to build one tower, although they had numerous mantlets which they planned on pushing up to the walls, so that the men could shelter within while carrying poles with large hooks designed to pull down the palisade stakes. Despite the enemy coming at them from all sides of the camp at once, the men of the 7th stood firm, and even taking heavy losses, dealt much more punishment to the Gauls. The Gallic tower was rolled to the wall in the area of the Third Cohort, where they managed to destroy it before it could be put to use, whereupon our men stood on the ramparts daring the Gauls to try their luck again. While it was a victory, it was a costly one, and Cicero knew the overall situation was even more desperate. Luckily, a Nervian noble named Vertico had deserted Ambiorix and come to our side at the very beginning of the siege; using his slave, he managed to send a message out that finally reached Caesar. When the slave arrived, he learned that none of the other messengers, perhaps 20 or 30 men in total, had made it to Samarobriva. Such was the sympathy of the native tribes for the cause of Ambiorix that when the slave of Vertico finally entered the headquarters with the message tied to a javelin, it was the first word Caesar had received of the siege. No more than a sixth part of a watch later, Caesar was sending messengers out to the various camps, giving orders. Marcus Crassus, elder brother of Publius, was in command of one of the three Legions nearby and was ordered to leave immediately from his camp to come take Caesar’s place at Samarobriva, while a courier was sent to our camp, ordering Labienus to march to Cicero’s camp, with Caesar planning on meeting us along the way. Plancus was ordered to bring a Legion from where he was camped in the territory of the Morini as well, and not long after the first couriers went galloping out of Caesar’s headquarters, Caesar himself was on the way. Little did Caesar know that we already had our own hands full.
The Treveri first showed up outside our camp the day after we learned of the massacre of the 13th and 14th. Although they did not formally lay siege, they arrayed themselves on the northern side of the river, interposing their army between us and Cicero, in sufficiently large numbers that cutting our way through the
m was no sure thing. There were perhaps 12,000 or more men that we could see, yet what worried Labienus, and us, was what we did not know. There was no way to tell what lay beyond the Treveri; would we fight our way through them, only to find another tribe waiting for us? Would we be fighting every inch of the 60 miles to Cicero’s camp? Subsequently, it was with a heavy heart that Labienus sent word back to Caesar that we could not take the risk of leaving our camp, a decision that Caesar later approved as prudent. Caesar would have to make do with what he could scrape together, and it was with a great deal of anxiety that we sat waiting for further developments, while keeping a close eye on the Treveri. For their part, they seemed content to wait and let whatever was taking place with the Eburones and Nervii to play out. Later we determined what the Treveri were waiting on was the destruction of the 7th, after which they planned on being joined by Ambiorix and his army. Meanwhile, Caesar was moving with his usual speed, having beefed up his Legion with the remaining five Cohorts of the 13th, and it was on his march to the east where the courier sent by Labienus found him, giving him the first word of the massacre of the 13th and 14th. His reaction was one of immense grief, making a vow then and there not to shave his beard nor cut his hair until the loss was avenged. Perhaps it was luck, although I believe it was the work of the gods to include the remaining men of the 13th in the relief column, because they were now filled with a terrible resolve to avenge the death of their friends. Caesar continued the march towards Cicero’s camp, with a very angry army at his back.
Caesar sent Vertico’s slave ahead to try getting word to Cicero, which the slave did, although in such a manner that it was not noticed for a couple of days. Tying Caesar’s dispatch around the shaft of a javelin, the slave hurled it while taking part in a Gallic attack on the walls, where it buried itself in one of the stakes of the palisade, remaining lodged there until a Centurion noticed it. That was the official story; more likely one of the rankers found it but his Centurion took the credit. Whatever the case, the men behind the walls were heartened by this news, yet were still pessimistic that Caesar would arrive in time. Nevertheless, Caesar moved with his usual speed, and in fact the signs of his approach could be marked by the columns of smoke rising in the air as he laid waste to every farm and village on the way in punishment. It was the signs of this punishment that actually raised the siege of Cicero’s camp, the Gauls seeing what was happening behind them and thereby turning to stop Caesar. Caesar’s scouts warned him of this new movement, so he gave orders to immediately stop the march and make camp. He had some 7,000 men and 300 cavalry that he had thrown together against perhaps 60,000 men, so he knew that he could not face them in pitched battle. His only hope lay in the strength of our camps and the discipline of the Legions, both of which he used to their fullest extent. Ambiorix and his allies stopped on the other side of a small river when they saw Caesar’s camp, which he sited so that from a small knoll the enemy could look down into the camp, far enough away where they could not deploy missile troops with any effect, yet close enough that what was taking place in the camp was clear to see. Caesar then instructed his men to act like they were in a state of panic as they hurried about the camp, apparently trying to improve the defenses. His cavalry screen went out and on his orders, fled when the enemy tried to engage with them, as if reluctant to do battle. The combination of these ruses served its purpose and the enemy rode across the river to surround the camp. Judging the gate too sturdy to attack, they began to fill in the ditch at a couple of points in preparation for their assault. So confident of victory were they that they did not worry about any kind of attack from within the camp, exactly what Caesar was planning on. Instantly, from both side gates our men came boiling out, led by the cavalry, immediately striking deep into the flanks of the Gauls, who were completely unprepared for an attack of any sort so it did not take long to rout the whole force, with our men inflicting heavy losses before Caesar called off the pursuit. Now with the enemy scattered to the winds, Caesar left his camp and completed the march to relieve Cicero, arriving at the gates of the 7th’s camp in the middle of the afternoon where he was understandably met with much jubilation. Caesar had broken out of his camp and inflicted heavy casualties without the loss of a single man; the same was not true for Cicero, where only ten percent of his men had no wound of any kind. Word of Caesar’s victory reached our own camp at midnight of that day as a dispatch rider used the darkness to slip past the Treveri watching our camp. Indutiomarus, at the head of the army of the Treveri, decided that the time to strike had not yet come, and ordered the army around our camp to disperse for the time being. But he was not through yet.