Marching With Caesar- Conquest of Gaul

by R. W. Peake

  “Pullus, you idiot! You’re too far in front! Get back where you belong!”

  It was only then that I realized that I was well out in front of my Century, and glancing quickly around, saw that I was in effect leading our whole Legion. We were just a couple dozen paces away from the enemy when I came to a skidding halt, my face more red from embarrassment than any exertion. The Century went rolling past me, and I heard more than one remark thrown over my friends’ shoulders as they slammed into the enemy. The Pilus Prior went by me without a word, his eyes fixed on the impending collision, though I knew that there would be a talk after this was over. Shaking off my embarrassment, I turned to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.

  This battle was very short, with not a man on our side lost, while the same cannot be said for the Treveri. They were cut down like wheat in the field, most of them as they were finishing their scramble up the banks of the river, and the slaughter was so great that one could almost literally walk across the river on the bodies of the dead without ever touching water. The river, both at the site of the killing and for a few hundred paces downstream was solid red, as if that were its natural color. We did not pursue the Treveri very deeply into the woods on the other side of the water, still wary of the dangers posed to an army that fought in our fashion in the close confines of a forest, yet even without that pursuit, we killed several thousand of the enemy. Labienus sounded the recall, we re-formed to march back to our former places in the column, picked up our gear and began the march back to our winter quarters, our spirits buoyant at the easy victory.

  It was less than a week later when the surviving leaders of the Treveri showed up at the gates under a flag of truce to offer their submission. They claimed that the family of Indutiomarus were the instigators of this latest revolt, and once we defeated them at the river, the Treveri banished them from their tribe, sending them packing across the Rhenus. The German tribes coming to the aid of the Treveri heard about their defeat and submission, turning back without ever crossing the great river. Labienus, under orders from Caesar, accepted the submission of the Treveri, although such things became something of a running joke in the camp since they happened so often and lasted such a short period of time. The submission of the Gauls among us rankers was compared to the sworn fidelity of a whore; it only lasted as long as the money did, or until a better offer came along. Cingetorix was reappointed chief of the Treveri, while Caesar came to join us at what could no longer be accurately described as our winter quarters, since it was now rapidly approaching late spring. Bringing three Legions with him, including our compatriots from Hispania, Caesar gave orders to make preparations for another trip across the Rhenus, and work began immediately. It was at that time I took delivery of my Gallic sword, and my comrades did not even bother trying to poke fun, instead just looking at it reverently. The only man I would let touch it was Vibius, and the Pilus Prior of course, who asked to see it. All of my friends were aware of how much it cost, and some of them talked about getting one for their own. Only Vibius, who had been thrifty like me but for different reasons, saved enough money to buy one for himself, except he had other plans for his money. We were halfway through our enlistment, with every day bringing him closer to Juno, who was still waiting for him. As for myself, I was beginning to get the itch that only a wife and family can scratch, surprising to myself not a little bit, and I began to have thoughts about things like settling down for the first time in my life. I do not know what scared me the most; the idea of settling down, or the fact that I was considering it, yet it was a subject that occupied my thoughts a great deal of the time.

  Marching to the Rhenus, back to the site of the bridge, we found the pilings we had not pulled up still standing exactly as we left them a couple of years before, and began the process of building another one. This was more difficult in the sense that we had to range somewhat farther for materials, the forest immediately surrounding the area already being denuded. I remember having a thought one day, as I was working at chopping one of the larger trees down that would serve to replace the destroyed pilings. How long would it take for these forests to return back to the state in which we found them, and if some people in the future would be able to follow the track of every Legion of Rome by the destroyed forests that marked their passage? I must admit that I thought of all manner of strange things to help pass the time, something that I have never divulged until I blurted it out just now. Still, these were the types of things I sometimes contemplated, and I would not be surprised to find that I was not alone among my comrades. The work building the bridge did not take ten days like the time before, mainly because the design was already created and the pilings on our side of the river still stood. It was on the morning of the eighth day, Caesar giving us a day of rest after we finished, that we marched once more across the Rhenus and into the territory of the Ubii. They were there to greet Caesar to make sure he knew that they were not the tribe that the Treveri had summoned, and never broke faith with him. This was true enough; the Ubii’s name was never part of the rumor mill that produced the true food of the Legions, but the same could not be said for the Suebi. They were working with some of the other tribes to gather an alliance of German tribes to oppose us and it was the Ubii who informed us of this fact. Using this tribe as scouts, Caesar sent them into the lands of the Suebi to ascertain their intentions, and they returned to inform him that the Suebi had in fact gathered in force in the heart of their largest forest, where they were waiting to confront us. Word of where they were waiting for us was met with some trepidation on the part of the army, truth be known. It was not just that the types of forests that are endemic in this part of the world are so thickly treed, with heavy underbrush that makes fighting in our manner extremely difficult; it is well known that the forest contains more than its fair share of numen that haunt every nook and cranny. Anyone who fell in its fastness was almost sure to be confronted by the numen of the forest, angry at the intrusion. While I cannot speak for my comrades, I know that one of the things that bothered me most about the idea of being killed in a forest was the knowledge of all the trees that I felled over the years, and I could not help but believe there would be a reckoning. Sacrifices to the gods of the area became more commonplace, as we did everything we could think of to appease them at what we knew was about to happen. As I have said, Caesar was not one to be ruled by superstition, and despite his title as Pontifex Maximus, I never got the sense that he was overly religious, but the same could not be said for the men in the ranks. No matter how many offerings we made, we knew that we would be heading into that forest, no matter what was in it.

  Caesar was always a man for surprises and he had one in store, not just for his enemy but mainly for us. Despite our conviction that we would be heading into a deep, dark forest to confront not just the Suebi but any other creature, real or supernatural, that dwelled within, Caesar determined that he instead would force the Suebi from their position. Instructing the Ubii to bring in all the Suebi cattle and harvest whatever grain had ripened, he denuded the land of anything edible, depriving the Suebi of their food supply, except it did not have the intended results. Instead, it drove the Suebi further into the fastness of their forests, where their skills at hunting kept them well-fed, or so insisted the Ubii. Whatever the cause, there were many prayers of thanks when the orders were given that, instead of pursuing them, we would be retreating back across the Rhenus. However, to remind both the Suebi and the Ubii of our might, Caesar instructed that our entire side of the bridge, not just the pilings this time, be left intact, so that it would only be a matter of a couple of days whereby we could re-cross the river and be back in their lands, should Caesar desire it to be so. It was now passing into the later part of the summer, so Caesar decided to turn his attention to a man who had occupied our thoughts for this whole year. It was time to settle the score with Ambiorix.

  Putting the cavalry under the command of one of the fine young men by the name of Minucius Basilus, C
aesar sent this force ahead on our march to the west. Meanwhile, we returned to our winter quarters, almost momentarily it seemed, spending perhaps a night there to pick up the other Legions he ordered to meet us. Among them were the raw tirones of the 14th, and when we saw them, we almost pissed ourselves with laughter at how young and green they were, until Calienus pointed out that it was not that long ago that we looked exactly the same. This sobered us instantly, causing us to look at each other, realizing the truth of his words. Additionally, there was no hiding the fact that there were men missing from our midst. It is moments like this, when you stop to think about what you have truly lost, that make your time in the army difficult and it was a sober bunch of us that marched past the youths of the 14th, each of us saying a quiet word to whatever young boy was nearest us, giving them a word of encouragement. I met eyes with a young lad, something astonishing in itself; there are not many men I can meet eye to eye without looking down, and I looked into a pair of blue eyes that widened at the sight of me, undoubtedly thinking the same thing I was. In the instant our eyes met, I smiled, throwing him a wink, the canny veteran letting the young tiro know that everything would be all right. He smiled back, and as we marched by I could see, with some relief if the gods must know, that while he was my height he did not have my build. He was quite stringy, really, his armor hanging from his frame as if it were on the wooden stand instead of on a man, and I remember thinking to myself, he’ll have time to fill it out.

  Young Basilus, although even as I characterize him so I am forced to chuckle, since I was at best a year or two older than he, rode rapidly through the vast forests that stretch to the west from the Rhenus. Under Caesar’s orders, they made cold camp every night, not lighting a fire and eating their rations cold. Following behind, the entire army was now united, and such a massive amount of men and animals takes an almost unimaginable amount of food and forage, yet thanks to our organization, we were almost always well-fed and well-watered. Because of all of the artillery our baggage train was excessively heavy, and with the army intact we could not march with our usual speed, Caesar or no, so we trudged along, walking down now-familiar paths heading back towards the west to find Ambiorix. Along the way, we came across the old camp of Sabinus and Cotta, and despite what we believed to be the ill omens attached, Caesar gave the order to resurrect it, instructing that the baggage slowing us down be left behind, along with the boys of the 14th Legion to guard it. This order would not have been met with much enthusiasm normally, but Caesar gave this command to young Cicero. He had acquitted himself with much honor and glory in the siege of his camp some time before, although the 7th Legion was now seriously understrength because of that ordeal, so we felt better at the idea of leaving our valuables behind with the boys of the 14th. Because that is essentially what we were doing; when a commander refers to “heavy baggage”, he is referring not only to his own personal luxuries, and as much as I loved, and still love Caesar, he was not one to travel without his comforts. In our case, heavy baggage meant that every valuable that we could not conveniently carry in our pack, or tuck away on the Century mules, or even the Legion’s wagons had to be left behind. One of the benefits of marching with Caesar’s army was the plunder; although many men did not finish that way, at one point, particularly by the fifth year, we were all rich men. While I was frugal, immediately selling anything of value that I could not carry and depositing it with one of the plutocrats that dealt with the army, many men had other ideas. The most common form of plunder were the statues of the various Gallic gods rendered in some sort of precious metal, usually gold or silver. If one of them came into my hands, I would immediately sell it or have it melted down, yet many men refused to do so, partially because they thought it more valuable in its original form or they banked that some rich citizen would buy it so that he could brag about being involved in the conquest of Gaul. However, I believe it was mostly due to their fear of drawing the ire of the god that the statue represented. Regardless, they were essentially stuck, and it was items such as these that were part of “heavy baggage.”

  Now, since we were leaving that baggage in the hands of the 14th as we continued to march, we were able to move more rapidly. During our movement, we received word that young Basilus had indeed managed to ambush Ambiorix with our cavalry, affecting such complete surprise that it was only by his own bodyguard sacrificing themselves that Ambiorix was allowed to get away, but he did manage to escape. With the bulk of the army following close behind, Caesar divided us into three smaller forces, sending each column into an area where there was a possibility of Ambiorix hiding. Into the land of the Eburones was where Labienus and 10th were sent, along with the 9th and 15th, the latter one of the new Legions, where we began a methodical search of the countryside. Every building, every hamlet, no matter how small or mean, was not only searched, but put to the torch. Because Ambiorix was one of their tribe, it made us just as determined to punish them as we were to avenge ourselves on Ambiorix himself. Yet the deeper and deeper we went into Eburones territory, it was clear that finding not only him, but any Eburones to punish would become more difficult with every passing day. Their lands are riddled with marshes, forests and glades where any resourceful people can hide, and this had been their home for generations, so they knew every inch. Realizing this, instead of putting us at risk, Caesar sent word to all the surrounding tribes, including those across the Rhenus, that the possessions of the Eburones, having been forfeited as a result of their rebellion, were now available for any tribe willing to send a large enough force to take them. As far as we were concerned, we were turned around and marched back in the direction of our baggage, sure that the surrounding Gauls and Germans would pick up ravaging the countryside where we had left off.

  It was during this period and because of Caesar's order that another tragedy befell our army, again hitting the ill-starred 14th Legion. Caesar had chosen an experienced hand in Cicero, or so we all thought at the time, although to be fair it is hard to fault him personally for what happened. When we left the baggage, he told Cicero that he would be gone no more than a week, so there would be no need for him to leave the camp to forage. If Caesar was not delayed, there would have been no tragedy, yet Cicero, having heard no word from our commander for the entire week and now out of food, made a command decision. Ordering five Cohorts, along with about 300 men from all the other Legions who were convalescing to go forage for food, Cicero dispatched a cavalry escort for good measure. What he did not know, and truthfully what Caesar did not know, was that our general's offer for other tribes to maraud the Eburones would end up being the cause of the trouble. One of the tribes across the Rhenus, the Sugambri, had indeed been on the march to plunder Eburones territory, except their scouts spied our camp first, taking the measure of the 14th instantly. The foraging party was not gone more than a mile away when the Sugambri descended on the camp, completely encircling it then throwing themselves at the gates, trying to force a breach. It was only through the efforts of one of the convalescing Centurions, Sextus Baculus of the 12th, who was too weak to accompany the foraging party and rose from his sick bed at the sound of the commotion, that the enemy was repulsed from the gates, despite inflicting heavy losses. Meanwhile, the foraging party, alerted to the danger, began marching back to the camp to come to the aid of their comrades. I do not know exactly what happened then; there was talk in the army that some of the men who were made Centurions in the new Legion were not ready for such responsibility, so when the moment came to be tested, their nerve failed them. Whatever happened, the result was that there was a splitting of the Cohorts, with the experienced men banding together, along with the convalescing men, to march their way back to the camp, cutting their way through the Sugambri. The tiros, either refusing to move or being so scared that they were unable to do so, instead stood huddled on a small knoll, watching their more experienced comrades fight their way back to the camp. From all accounts it was a scene of utter chaos, making it easy to see how young, inexperie
nced men lost their heads. Unfortunately, either because they refused to listen to their Centurions, which is what the surviving Centurions and Optios claimed, or because they were abandoned when they did not instantly obey orders while under attack, which is what was more commonly accepted as fact, the loss of their heads went from the figurative to the literal. A total of a little more than two Cohorts were lost that day, further reinforcing in our minds that not only the site of the camp, but the 14th Legion itself was damned.

  The aftermath of this battle was not yet cleaned up when we arrived back at the camp, the word spreading quickly through the column about what happened. I was saddened but not surprised when I saw the stiffening corpse of the young boy I had locked eyes with that day when we marched past, and I offered a short prayer to the gods to speak for him, although I never really knew him. This was the last operation of the season as winter was setting in. Although Ambiorix escaped, his people would very likely not survive the winter, because we not only laid waste to their lands, but also forbade any other tribe giving them aid, on pain of being considered in rebellion with them. We were going to be sent to new camps for the winter, distributed according to Caesar’s wishes, with ourselves and five other Legions going into winter quarters at Agedincum, where we made camp on an island in the middle of the river. Meanwhile, Caesar held a tribunal at Duroctorum, where the chief who we learned was the power behind the scenes that initiated all this business, Acco, was tried and found guilty of fomenting insurrection, and sentenced to death. With the army settling into its winter routine, most of us wondered if we would have another one as active as the last.