by Peake, R. W.
Caesar was engaged in a deep discussion with Aulus Hirtius, Asinius Pollio, Publius Ventidius, the Tribunes, and the Primi Pili, going over the next day's march, when a courier arrived bearing an urgent dispatch. The general and his staff were in the outer office of the praetorium so Caesar spotted the man immediately on his entrance, beckoning him over. Recognizing the man as one of those assigned to the Parthian Decurion, Caesar's brow furrowed, as he wondered what the Parthian could consider so important, given the duty he had been given. While not chastising the man, Caesar had decided to remove the Parthian from the role as scout, so he and his ala were now charged with providing a screen along the strip of land between the other side of the lake and the ridge. Caesar thought it highly unlikely that there would be a sighting of anything other than a lone scout, which is all that had been spotted for days. Still, he accepted the offered tablet, opening it and reading the contents with pursed lips. His officers stood watching, and they were all familiar enough with Caesar to know that something potentially important was contained in that message even before he opened his mouth to confirm it.
"How long ago did you leave him?" Caesar asked the messenger, who paused to think.
"Not more than a sixth part of a watch sir," the courier replied after a moment's thought.
"Which would put him how far away?" Caesar followed up.
Again the man paused, painfully aware that not only did much ride on his answer for the army as a whole, but also for his Decurion, who he knew was in trouble with the general.
"Perhaps 4 miles. No more than five."
"From here? Counting the ford?" Caesar asked, which in fact the courier hadn't factored in, thinking of the distance only as a straight line and not how much ground had to be covered.
"No sir," the man's voice carried the slightest tremor now. "Counting the ford he's five miles away."
Caesar didn't say anything more, looking back down at the tablet, deep in thought. His officers, however, couldn't contain their impatience, and it was Hirtius who broke the silence?
"Well? What is it? Or are you going to make us guess?"
If Caesar was irritated, he didn't show it in any way, instead simply answering, "It appears that we have located a pass through the mountains."
Not unexpectedly, this created a stir, as the assembled men started talking, either to or over each other as they digested this piece of information. Caesar held his hand up, and the men immediately fell silent.
"The Decurion reports that they surprised a pair of mounted scouts, and in the ensuing chase they followed them up into the hills. But instead of cornering them in one of the draws or blind valleys, they chased them all the way to the other side, where they caught up with them just on the other side of the ridge."
"So they didn't escape to raise a warning that we found a way through?" Pollio asked, all of them instantly understanding the significance of the sequence of events.
"Apparently not," Caesar replied. "But until I talk to the Decurion and see things for myself, I'm not willing to say so definitively."
"You mean you plan on going up there?" Hirtius gasped, barely getting out the words before the others voiced similar protests.
"Indeed I do," Caesar gave the men a grim smile. "Given all that's happened, I think the least I owe to this army is that I make sure before we commit ourselves. Besides," he finished, "given the Decurion's error with the width of the ford, I'll feel more comfortable seeing for myself. Although, if this pass turns out to be practicable for the wagons, he'll have more than redeemed himself."
The two scouts the royal commander had chosen gave their lives willingly, as part of the plan the Wa had devised to gain an advantage over the barbarians. Despite their ponies’ being smaller, over the type of terrain they spent most of their time traveling they were superior to the larger mounts of the grubworms, and in fact they could have evaded capture fairly easily. But that wouldn’t have been conducive to the illusion that the Wa commander was trying to create: that the remaining forces were waiting for an attack from the south, confident that the pass they were using would remain undiscovered. That didn't mean they surrendered or didn't put up a ferocious fight, and in fact they helped the Wa cause by taking four of the grubworms with them before they were subdued. The Parthian Decurion and his ala had caught the two not far from the crest of the pass on the western side, and conscious of his earlier mistake, he and his men had pushed forward almost to the base of the ridge. Taking advantage of the thick growth, they proceeded cautiously, but didn't run into any more sentry posts or pickets. This, of course, was by design, but they had no way of knowing that they were doing exactly what the Wa wanted them to do. Satisfied that the pass was not only open, but also that the road, rough-hewn as it was and little more than two grooved tracks and of a steep but navigable grade, was passable by the wagons of the army, the Parthian and his men hurried back. By his estimate the pass was about 4 miles long, so that the courier he sent immediately after subduing the two barbarian scouts should have reached Caesar by this point. Consequently, he was expecting to be met somewhere along the way back, but not by the general himself.
At the base of the ridge on the eastern side, nearest the lake, Caesar rode at the head of his mounted bodyguard and his generals. Meeting the Parthian and his ala, Caesar took the man's report, but he did so while continuing to ride up the narrow track. As they rode, he questioned his Decurion further about what the Parthian had seen further up the road. Riding ahead of Caesar and his officers were the men of the bodyguard and the ala, but again they ran into no sign of any enemy. The slopes of the hills through which the road passed were heavily forested, with thick undergrowth, something Caesar noted with concern. It was true that it would help screen his own movements, and, most importantly, the presence of the overhanging trees would help dissipate the dust, but it also meant that there could be barbarians hidden and waiting. Through the years and countless battles Caesar had developed a keen instinct for knowing when danger lurked nearby; it was that instinct, when he had actually heeded the warning of The Seer, that had saved him on that day on the Ides of March ten years before, something that even now he didn't like to think about. However, his senses at the moment didn't alert him that there might be enemy troops lying in wait, as he and the rest of his detachment continued up the pass. Reaching the summit, Caesar and the others drew up. From this spot, through the trees, he could glimpse the land, perhaps two thousand feet below and no more than two miles away. There was nothing special that he could see, just a scattering of the curious huts that these people constructed, which were unbelievably flimsy, and adjoining each hut was a plot of land, where something other than rice was clearly being grown.
Otherwise, there was no sign of enemy activity that would indicate that they were prepared for an enemy army. No fortifications blocking the road as it entered the valley, no movement of men, mounted or otherwise. Rather than quieting his fears, these absences unsettled him even further. His self-confidence, badly shaken as it had been days before, was also tempered with a deep but grudging respect for the martial skills of these people, and although all indications were that Primus Pilus Pullus had killed the barbarian who had commanded the attack, he couldn't discount that there was one Wa left who was as able as the dead man had been. That thought wouldn't leave the back of Caesar's mind as he continued moving, now heading downslope. Going perhaps a half mile further, once again he drew up, staring out into the open valley, but saying nothing. Pollio was on one side, Hirtius on the other, but both men recognized the expression on their general's face and knew he was deep in thought, so they remained silent as well. The only sound was the whispering of the wind through the trees, and Hirtius was struck by the thought that, all things considered, this was a beautiful country in many ways. The incongruity of the peace of the scene; the horses' tails swishing away the insects that were lazily buzzing about, the movement of the trees as the breeze blew through them, the creak of saddles, stood in stark contrast to wh
at their purpose was for being at that spot, at that moment. Finally, Caesar gave a minute shake of his head, then, without another word, turned his horse about.
"We move tonight," the Wa commander announced to his subordinates, gathered in the building that served as the headquarters for the imperial guard. "The grubworm general has taken the bait. He was seen inspecting the pass and saw what I wanted him to see, a peaceful kingdom unprepared for attack."
His words were met with grunts of approval from the small group of assembled men. Unlike the grubworm barbarians, the Wa had far fewer leaders. Essentially, there were sub-commanders of each contingent of the command; spear carriers, sword warriors, archers, and the mounted scouts who could serve as fighting cavalry, if necessary, although the commander understood if matters reached that point the battle was essentially lost. There was also one other man present, chosen by his comrades to represent the disgraced nobles who had escaped from the first battle, his presence barely tolerated by the others.
"I want all but The Chosen with me to take up positions in the pass," the commander continued, referring to the two hundred hand-picked men who were the emperor's personal bodyguard. Not only were these men formidable warriors, but their lineage and ancestry was almost as exalted as the emperor’s himself, representing the most ancient families of the islands, or at least since the Wa first began taking notice of such things. "The rest of you will be with me. We move immediately."
Finished, the commander turned to attend to other matters, but one of his sub-commanders stopped him. That one of them would speak up at such a moment was unusual, but not unheard of. However, the identity of the speaker shocked everyone present into immobility, including the commander, whose face was a frozen mask of contempt.
"Is it wise to risk everything we have left on the belief that the grubworm general has taken the bait you have laid out so carefully?"
While in every other sense it was a perfectly sensible question—one that a general like Caesar wouldn't take amiss, even if it was for the chance to demonstrate his genius in explaining his decision—it was the identity of the man asking the question that created such consternation, for it was the Wa representing the disgraced nobles who asked it. As far as the commander, and the other men for that matter, was concerned, this man should have been more silent than the sparse furniture in the room. After all, a chair could creak because of the weight put upon it, but this noble and his comrades had forfeited what little right they had to question their commander by their shameful behavior at the first battle. Behavior that, from the viewpoint of the commander, had led him and his command to make what he understood was a desperate gamble in a last-ditch attempt to save not only his capital, but indeed his emperor from the ultimate humiliation. Never in their history had the Wa been defeated, and every man from the commander down to the lowest warrior was acutely aware of this fact and the fact that their ancestors were watching. Now, this...this impudent coward was questioning his orders? But as much as he wanted to roar his disgust and anger at the man, the target of his rage was a member of the nobility, just like he was, even if he was a minor son. So instead, he treated the other man with an icy courtesy, although everyone present could sense the barely suppressed rage.
"While I understand your concern, it is really none of your affair. You hold no office here in the capital. I won't mention that if you and your comrades had been successful, I would not be forced to make this choice in the first place. It is a gamble, but it is the right one to make. Or are you claiming otherwise?"
Even spoken quietly, there was no mistaking the rebuke, and the menacing warning in the commander's words.
The young noble's body stiffened, but his tone was even, as he replied, "No, I am not claiming otherwise. Forgive me."
For a moment the commander continued to glare at the younger man, but then gave an abrupt nod of his head. There was a rush of air as the rest of the sub-commanders let out their collective breaths, and without another word spoken the commander turned on his heel and exited the room. As the rest of the men filed out they were careful not to look at the young noble, who was the last to leave, his normally smooth features furrowed with the worry that he felt. As each man hurried off in different directions to carry out their respective tasks, the young noble did the same, but he moved more slowly as his mind raced, almost dizzied by the idea that was coming to him. His reasoning was simple; after all, he and his comrades were already disgraced? What more did they have to lose?
"We're breaking camp and moving tonight," Caesar announced to his officers after he returned from his scouting trip. As might be expected, this got the attention of the assembled men, prompting a low buzz of conversation. Caesar held up his hand to silence the talking, the men immediately falling quiet as they waited for more.
"We're also going to be moving fast, so don't have the men fill in the ditches. Take only their stakes, and they need to be told that we're going to be moving fast, even if it is dark."
For the first time in many days, there were smiles apparent among the officers of Caesar's army; this was more like the old general they knew and loved.
"As far as marching order, I want the 14th leading the way," Caesar continued. "The 30th follows, but I will leave it up to you to determine the order after that. I want the 10th and 12th marching with the baggage train."
Raising a hand again, not in a gesture to silence, but to reassure the two Primi Pili, both of them acting, he told Scribonius and Carbo, "Make sure the men know this isn't a censure of any kind. In fact, it's the opposite. The 10th in particular needs to know that they're honoring their Primus Pilus by protecting him, because we're going to be marching faster than the baggage train tonight. And the 12th needs to know that their general understands they have suffered enough, and they deserve to rest."
Both men nodded; the truth was that neither of them had the same concern as Caesar. Their Legions were shells of their former selves, and they knew that this was one fight that the men wouldn't mind sitting out after all that they had been through.
"I expect to march in a third of a watch," Caesar finished, and while the men responsible for making this happen weren't pleased, they also knew that it wasn't impossible to do. There might be liberal use of the vitus across some men's backs to encourage them to move with the necessary speed, but by the gods, they would move!
"How are we going to handle the ford?" Pollio was the one who asked this question, and unintentionally triggered the great surprise.
"We're not using the ford," Caesar replied, but without saying anything else. Again, there was a buzz of conversation, the officers confused by this news. "At least, not this one."
"Not using the ford?" Hirtius blurted out. "But how are we going to reach the pass? Surely we're not going to go down to the end of the lake, then come back up again!"
"No, we're not going to do that," Caesar agreed, mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, but again he didn't elaborate.
Thoroughly confused now, Pollio was simply the first to ask the next question.
"Then how in Hades do you expect us to take advantage of that pass and save a day's march if we don't go by the shortest route, and that's across the ford?"
"Because we're not going through the pass," Caesar said, leaning back on his desk with folded arms, waiting for the explosion to come.
He wasn't disappointed.
"What? We aren't going to use the pass? In the name of the gods, why not? You saw for yourself! It's wide open! There's nothing to stop us from stealing a day from these barbarians!"
This came from Ventidius, who up until that moment had been silent, but who was now as agitated as everyone else there. Unlike the Wa royal guard commander, Caesar was far from upset at being questioned in this manner; the truth was, he rather enjoyed it. He also knew that by explaining things to his subordinates, he usually got more cooperation and diligence in seeing his orders carried out. When men felt informed, they took ownership in ideas that weren't necessarily their ow
n; this was one of the great secrets of Caesar's genius for command.
"Everything you say is true, Ventidius," Caesar answered calmly. "Which is why I believe that this is exactly what the barbarians want us to think. If I were their commander, I would make it appear to be what we saw today, a completely undefended pass, just inviting us to cross by the shortest way possible. I imagine that even now, their commander is giving the same orders that I'm giving. The difference is that we're going to head for two different spots. It might be longer, but from everything I've been told by the scouts, once we skirt this ridge, the way north to the capital is wide open country. And while I don't discount that there might be a sizable barbarian army left, nothing we've seen indicates that is the case. No," he concluded, "I think they have a handful of men, at least compared to what we have, and their commander is seeking to even the odds by drawing us into a trap by taking that pass. You saw the terrain. It's a perfect spot for an ambush."
When Caesar finished, there was a moment of silence, as each man digested this. What Caesar said, as almost everything he did, made eminent sense, and when presented made the officers wonder how they had missed something so obvious. Still, their concerns weren't completely assuaged, and in yet another difference between these two foes, it was the man who was by rights the least qualified to speak who raised the question.
"What do we do about them watching us?" acting Primus Pilus Scribonius asked. "We have to assume that they have men hidden up in the hills who are watching. Granted, it's a long way off especially in the dark, but they'll surely see the torches of the vanguard."
Caesar pursed his lips, telling those who knew him Scribonius had brought up something that Caesar considered important.
"You're right, Scribonius," Caesar said, his respect for this tall, rangy man who looked more like a tutor of a patrician's children than a Centurion growing even more. Thinking about it for a moment, he decided, "That means we go without torches. The moon isn't full, but it's a half-moon and there aren't many clouds. We're just going to have to move as quickly as we can."