Marching With Caesar- Conquest of Gaul

by R. W. Peake

  That was it, I thought, and I could see heads that had been still or even shaking back and forth at what I was saying start to stop. Now to get them to nod up and down, I thought, as I finished my thought.

  “The training is tough, but it doesn’t require all that much courage, or bravery, whatever you want to call it. It’s just like at Avaricum. Caesar gave us the opportunity to call off the siege, but to a man, we all refused. It wasn’t bravery, because we’re all veterans and we know that if we aren’t going to fight that day, we’ll be fighting on the next, so bravery played no part in our decision. At least it didn’t in mine. No, it was more about seeing a job through, no matter how hard or unpleasant. That’s constancy.”

  Now the heads were nodding, and I saw with some relief that even Vibius seemed to accept that my response made sense. Not wanting to lose the advantage, I finished.

  “And that’s what I think is missing from the Gauls. It’s not bravery; we’ve seen enough examples to know that it’s not through a lack of bravery that we defeat them. It’s just when things get tough, or they require a lot of hard work, with little immediate payoff, the Gauls aren’t capable of seeing things through.”

  And that is what I believe to this day.

  At the end of our fifth day on the march, we came within sight of Gergovia. Hardened veterans we may have been, but the sight of that hilltop town still gave us pause. Like most Gallic forts that grow into towns, it was perched on a hill, except this one was higher and more massive than any we faced before. Approaching from the north, it was easy to see that the slope on that side was almost vertical, immediately telling us that there would be no assault from that direction. Despite it being at the end of our marching day, Caesar pushed us on to swing around to the east, while he and his bodyguard rode around the base of the hill looking for a weak point. It turned out that the east side was just as bad as the north, although we did find a good spot for a camp, southeast of the hill, beginning the process while Caesar continued exploring. The site for our camp was on a low hill, giving a clear view of the town to our northwest, with a small valley perhaps two miles wide between the two points. Caesar returned shortly before dark, calling a meeting of his staff and the Primi Pili of the Legions, leaving the rest of us to sit and speculate about what would happen next.

  “No doubt he’ll want to invest the place, but by the gods, that's one big hill,” the Pilus Prior mused as we stared up at its dark bulk, now crowned with lights from the torches the Gauls had placed along the walls of the town.

  Sitting around our own fire that night was the Pilus Prior, Scaevola, Calienus and I, while Zeno and the Pilus Prior’s slave, a Thracian named Patroclus I believe, were preparing our meal for the evening. I will say that one of the things I did like about being Optio was not having to worry about cooking meals, the one part of soldiering I always disliked the most, although I have no idea why.

  “I wonder how big around that bastard is,” Calienus mused. “Because no doubt Caesar's going to want a circumvallation of it, and that’s going to be a lot of work.”

  I could only nod in agreement with his sentiment; we had marched too long with Caesar not to know at least some of his habits, and the one thing the man believed in was the engineering aspect of warfare. This is not to say that we did not complain all the same, but deep down we all knew the truth of the soldier’s saying that was most often repeated while engaged in the use of a pick or shovel.

  “The more you sweat now, the less you’ll bleed later.”

  But it is a soldier’s right, given to us by Mars and Bellona themselves, to complain, and we took full advantage of that gift. Sitting there that night, I was struck by a thought.

  “Do you suppose that there’s some Gauls up there, looking down at us, and they’re complaining about all the work they’re going to have to do to keep us out of that town?”

  This drew a hearty laugh from my companions, and I was secretly pleased that they liked my wit.

  Once our Primus Pilus was briefed by Caesar, he summoned all of the Centurions and Optios to a meeting in the forum. Gathering around, I found myself standing next to Crastinus, our old Pilus Prior and now the Primus Princeps, the Centurion in charge of the Third Century. Seeing me, he grinned cheerfully, giving me a slap on the back.

  “Salve Pullus, it looks like this is going to be a right bastard of a job. Did you see the size of that hill? And how many of the bastards that are up there on it that want to keep us from taking it? It’s going to be bloody, that much is sure.”

  Before I could respond, the Primus Pilus called for our attention.

  “Men, this is going to be a right bastard of a job.”

  Both Crastinus and I had trouble suppressing a snicker at his unintentional echo of Crastinus’ words. Fortunately we were quiet enough in our mirth that the Primus Pilus did not hear. Continuing, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the hill.

  “But you can see that for yourselves. Caesar's done a reconnaissance of the hill, and there’s only one place that we have a chance of cracking this nut. But in order to do that,” now he turned to point at a smaller hill directly south of Gergovia, squatting like a small guardian over the narrow dip between the two hills, “we have to take that first.”

  About halfway up the slope of the hill of Gergovia stood an outer wall, constructed as a buffer between it and the walls of the town proper. In the cleared area between the two walls on the slopes was the camp of Vercingetorix's army. The strategic value of the small hill is that it overlooked the stream that fed the river to the south of us that was our water supply. However, that stream was also the water supply for the Gauls in Gergovia, along with their army encampment, so if we could command the heights above the stream we could cut off their water supply, or at least a major source. But Vercingetorix was no fool, and he saw that as well, so in the time he had before we arrived, he put his army to work fortifying the small hill and manning it with warriors. Even from this distance we could see that a wall of some size had been thrown up; our best hope was that it was done hastily, and not constructed like the wall at Avaricum, or we would indeed have our hands full.

  “Caesar hasn't decided when and who'll assault that hill, but that’s the first step. So stand ready, because we don’t know when, and we don’t know who he’ll send to take that hill. All we do know is that it’ll happen.”

  “I’ll bet 500 sesterces that I know who it’ll be,” called the Hastatus Posterior, Centurion of the Sixth Century, a squat little turd named Felix, reputed to be one of the worst gamblers in the army despite his nickname, a fact that did not dissuade him from wagering on just about anything. Despite his reputation for being unlucky, at gambling at least, he was supposed to be one of the most fearsome fighters in the Legion, and he immediately had several takers on his wager.

  “Good thing we just got paid at Avaricum,” laughed Crastinus, “or poor Felix would be so far in debt that he’d be busted back to the ranks.”

  For that is yet another regulation in the army; if a Centurion falls into debt over a certain amount and is unable to pay it off, he is subject to discipline. If the money he owes is to his own men, it is even more egregious, and a flogging with the scourge could be ordered. Luckily for Felix, his men loved him too much to do something like report him, which was just as well for his sake, because when the time came, he lost yet another bet.

  For several days, we did nothing but watch our cavalry force skirmish with the Gauls. It was decided that a night assault on the hill had the best chance for success, and the moon was waxing full those first nights. Taking this opportunity, we improved the fortifications of our camp, since all indications were that we were in for a long siege, longer than Avaricum by far, and we accepted as an article of faith that we would try to completely encircle the hill, despite it being many miles around. Early in our first year on campaign in Gaul, had we not dug a ditch and built a wall 18 miles long, we reasoned? It seemed to be the only way to contain such a l
arge army here, but still no orders were given to begin the entrenching work. Finally, the first moonless night was about to arrive, and word was sent that it would be the men of the 8th and 9th making the assault, much to the chagrin of Felix and to the joy of all the men who counted on his famous luck, or lack thereof, on holding for at least one more wager. That night we were ordered to stay in our Legion areas, it being customary for the men left behind to gather at the gates to wish the men going on whatever mission luck as they left. On this occasion, however, Caesar did not want to give the slightest hint that anything was different, so instead we sat by the fire, listening to the tramping of boots and clinking of gear as they marched out of the gate. Since there was no way to see how the assault was going, the distance from camp to the hill being a little more than two miles, it was only possible to hear that there was a battle but not how it was going. Therefore, we decided to retire for the night, trusting to our comrades and Caesar that when we awoke, the hill would be ours.

  And it was; Caesar and the two Legions were in possession of the hill. Under the cover of darkness they threw up their own fortifications, these facing the opposite direction than the original ones. Immediately on his return to camp, Caesar ordered the digging of two parallel trenches linking the two camps, allowing men to move between the two undetected and protected from any missile or artillery fire. By making two trenches, placed about ten feet apart, we could also allow two-way traffic, or in the event of an emergency, send men up both trenches. It was one thing to dig a simple trench, even if it was really two trenches two miles long apiece, but we soon learned of the calculations that Caesar had made for a complete investment of Gergovia, and it was disheartening to say the least. In order to completely encircle the town and camp of Vercingetorix’s army, we would not only have to surround the hill that the town sat on, but another promontory to the west that Vercingetorix turned into a stronghold, including the saddle between the two heights where part of his army was camped. This translated to the creation of about 12 miles of fortifications, much more complex work than a simple trench, since in Caesar’s army the dimensions of fortifications were different than what other commanders of the recent and historic past had deemed sufficient, which may have added to the strength of the fortification but also meant more work for the men. A ditch three feet wider and five feet deeper may not seem like a lot, but it is just that much more work that has to be done. Add to that the necessity of creating a palisade far in excess of even the largest camp, not to mention that the stakes we used were already part of our marching camp, required more trees to be cut down and stakes fashioned from them, all of a uniform size. Then there were the towers that had to be built and positioned at intervals along the distance of the entrenchments, all within sight of the towers on either side, to allow signals to be passed quickly, along with providing mutual support. Finally, smaller camps for housing the men not standing watch on the walls at any given moment had to be constructed as well, so that they were not forced to spend a significant amount of their time off duty actually moving back and forth between their posts and the main camp. And all this was to be done with just us, the Legionaries; auxiliaries and cavalry are never allowed to perform any of the labor, nor are the slaves who are assigned to the Legion, nor any civilians, slave or free. From a labor standpoint, this meant that Caesar had six Legions; at that time our combined strength was perhaps 25,000 men, give or take a hundred, down from our original strength of more than 35,000 when all of the Legions were at full strength. Years of fighting had been cruel, but so were the illnesses and diseases, along with the injuries and the drunken brawls, whittling us down bit by bit. This was what Caesar had at hand to not only conduct an operation of investment, but also to keep at least one, if not two Legions constantly on alert to a counterattack by the enemy. In short, it was a seemingly impossible task, even for the army of Caesar.

  Compounding this problem came what I believe was perhaps the biggest shock that Caesar, and by extension the rest of us, ever received. While Caesar believed, with good cause I might add, that he had resolved the dispute among the Aedui and secured the stability of the tribe that was our staunchest ally, it was not to be. The Aedui rose in revolt, led by none other than the cunnus Convictolitavus, the very man who Caesar had negotiated with the opposing faction to put into the post of Vergobret. But Gauls are Gauls, and if there was ever proof needed, this betrayal is the best example, because Convictolitavus owed the very influence he used to incite a rebellion against the man who gave it to him in the first place. As we would find out later, the faithlessness of Convictolitavus did not come cheaply; Vercingetorix offered him a bribe massive enough that the cunnus could buy off a good number of sub-chiefs to join the cause. It was not all money that persuaded them, however. Apparently a feeling had been growing that perhaps Vercingetorix was indeed the man who could bring Caesar down, and the Aedui were starting to grow concerned that the Arverni, traditional rivals, would then become the most powerful tribe in Gaul, should they be victorious. Convinced that throwing their weight behind Vercingetorix would tip the scales in the favor of the Gauls, the Aedui reasoned, not without some logic, that since they could then claim to be the decisive factor in the defeat of Caesar and Rome, they could at the very least claim equal partnership as dominant tribe with the Arverni. Such was the mindset at least of the man who sounded a call to arms among the Aedui that some 10,000 men answered, and it was the news of this column now approaching from the east that spurred Caesar into sounding an emergency assembly, late in the morning.

  “Comrades,” he cried, once we were assembled in the forum, the Centurions in the rear Cohorts relaying his words for all to hear, “we have been betrayed!”

  Despite having already gotten wind of this, his confirmation produced a stir, and he waited for a moment for the men to subside. “Even now, a force of the faithless Aedui are marching to join Vercingetorix, and we will find ourselves trapped between two armies.”

  One aspect of Caesar’s leadership was that, rather than try to minimize the danger, he was more likely to confront what we would consider bad news head on, and indeed sometimes I think he may have exaggerated it a bit, given how things always seemed to turn out in our favor. Nonetheless, this was one time that he seemed to be genuinely, if not alarmed, at the least surprised. “What I am about to ask you to do will not be easy, given the labors that we have been undergoing,” he continued, “so I will not order, but I will ask you to do this for your commander. We must not waste time; we must march, now. I will leave two Legions here, one in the big camp, and the 8th manning the small camp. The four remaining Legions I ask to march with me, to confront the Aedui. Together, we will make them pay for their treachery!”

  Now, we would have gone no matter what, except if he ordered it, we would have done so grumbling every step of the way. However, by couching it as he did, a humble favor begged of us by their commander, it made us not only willing, but eager to grant it to him. As the men began to cheer and shout their agreement to march, I was swept up in my admiration for the man before us. Once again, he struck the perfect notes, making such a beautiful melody that we could not help wanting to dance to it. Breaking the formation, we ran to get our gear to form up to march, and it was almost like we were going to some sort of games or festival, so lighthearted was the mood. I even caught Vibius smiling and talking animatedly to Scribonius, although when he saw me looking at him, he tried to put on a scowl, as if he were displeased, but even he could not pull it off and we both burst out laughing as we got ready to march.

  The Aedui host was commanded by a sub-chief named Litaviccus, and along with his 10,000 men on foot, he had about 500 cavalry. Marching with the 9th, 11th and 13th, along with all of our cavalry, our force included a contingent of Aeduan cavalry, at least the ones who did not flee to join the rebels. When Caesar learned that it was Litaviccus leading the advancing column he ordered the arrest of the sub-chief's two brothers who were serving in our cavalry, but they had already
fled to join him. We did not much blame them for that; blood is blood, and it is only right that family stand together. It did not mean that we would not kill them just as quickly and unmercifully as anyone else, it would just not be with the rancor we felt for men who chose to rebel on their own, without the inducement of family ties. On their own march, at the end of the day, we later learned that Litaviccus held an assembly of his army, whereupon he informed them that Caesar had already treacherously murdered all of the Aedui cavalry, then producing the same two brothers, made them swear that they managed to escape and the story was true. This understandably roused the Aedui into a great fury, so that they resumed the march the next day in a state of great wrath. Meanwhile, we marched through the day and into the night, covering more than 20 miles before it got dark. To be sure we were tired, but we were still in great spirits, with Caesar marching on foot with us every step of the way, one of his slaves leading Toes, his horse that was almost as famous as Caesar by this time. As far as whether or not his steed had toes, as the name implies and for which he earned his fame, I will make no comment on that matter because I do not wish to dispute more learned men who claim that the horse’s hooves were of this nature. Our scouts spotted the enemy’s camp just as they were beginning to start on their day’s march, prompting Caesar to order us to deploy in a triplex acies, as if we were about to go into battle, which very well may have been the case. Taking our spot on the far right, with the 9th to our left, we waited while Caesar and his bodyguard rode ahead under a flag of truce. Accompanying him were two Aedui who had not defected, Eporedorix and Viridomarus, two young noblemen, who ended up being the unwitting cause for the collapse of the Aedui army, and rebellion. It turned out that Litaviccus had mentioned these two men by name as two of those slaughtered, since both of them came from powerful families and were well-respected by the rest of the Aedui. Seeing them alive and unharmed, the Aedui instantly knew they were duped, but before they could drag him off his horse, Litaviccus and his retainers escaped back to Aedui territory. The entire force of 10,000 men then swore another oath of loyalty to Caesar, claiming that they were misled. Caesar accepted their oaths and they went unpunished; in fact, he considered these to be the 10,000 men that the Aedui swore to provide when he adjudicated the dispute between them. Subsequently, we were told to stand down, although no camp was made, just being given a total of a full watch to rest before we turned around to head back to camp at Gergovia.