Caesar Triumphant

by Peake, R. W.

  "And? Why are you telling me about this?"

  The Decurion didn't need a torch or any other source of light to detect Caesar's impatience, so he answered hurriedly, "It's just that the lead element of the army should reach that spot in another third of a watch. By my estimate there's about two parts of a watch left before dawn. If the entire army can reach that spot, we'll be shielded from view by anyone on the western side of those hills." Trying to give his commander a visual picture, he added, "This valley is essentially like the space between an upside down 'V'."

  "The problem with that is where the two lines of the 'V' intersect, we would be faced with hills," Caesar replied, but before he could admonish the Parthian, the other man interrupted, which would have irritated Caesar enormously except for what the man said.

  "That's just it, sir. We found a notch where this smaller hill and the ridge we just went around meet. It's less than a mile, but if we're on this side of it, we're blocked from view. I can't tell much in the dark, but what I can tell you is that coming out of that notch I can see far out into the valley. In fact, I can see the capital. It looks like there's a great deal of work going on from the number of torches I counted, but it's no more than two miles from the end of the notch and whatever it is they're working on through the night."

  "Probably their defenses," Caesar mused. "So either they weren't preparing a trap, or their commander is trying to make sure both possible avenues of approach are covered. But, if what you tell me is correct, and we can get the army into this small valley before dawn, we'll have disappeared from their sight. And then in the morning, we can at least go to this spot you're talking about and see what we're facing."

  Temporarily forgetting that he couldn't be seen, Caesar pointed back over the Decurion's shoulder, but then he spoke.

  "Very well. Go back to the front of the column, tell the 14th what you found and guide them to a spot where they will be out of sight. If the distance to the capital is as short as you say, we should be able to prepare a very nasty surprise for these savages and end this once and for all."

  Pullus had given up trying to sleep, and the constant swaying of his hammock caused by the wagon's passage over the uneven ground had threatened to send the meal he had eaten back up. The Han physician, still in his now-accustomed spot on the bench the opposite side of Diocles, had offered Pullus a concoction that Pullus knew from experience would enable him to sleep. However, he always felt wooly-headed and his tongue was thick the next day, and his instincts told him that this next day would see something momentous happening, and he had no intentions of missing it. In fact, he had a plan of his own, a very ambitious one, but also one he knew he couldn't divulge to anyone; not Scribonius, not Diocles, and certainly not to the Han physician. Speaking of Diocles, he was curled up on the floor of the wagon, sleeping just below his master whose hammock was a couple of feet above him. Pullus envied the little Greek's ability to snatch sleep whenever there was a chance and under any circumstances, but he didn't begrudge him. He understood how vigilant his servant had been and would continue to be, fussing over Pullus like a mother hen, seeing to his every need, and for that Pullus was thankful, even if he did find it a bit irritating. So, while he was in the mood to chat, he occupied himself instead with all that he had seen in this campaign, the toughest one he had ever been on in a career that was almost as legendary as that of his general. The closest he had come to dying before this had been more than 11 years before at Munda, and he had never seen a foe in all his years under the standard that so equally matched his beloved Legions, even if their methods were decidedly different. The major difference that he could see was that where the Legions had the discipline and training to fight as one unit, from which the individual parts were almost indistinguishable, these barbarians were no less disciplined and trained. The difference was in the manner in which they were trained, for Pullus had never encountered such ferocity in any other foe that he had faced. He had no idea how this level of savage skill could be trained into a warrior, but the other explanation was that this race was unlike any other he had encountered. And thanks to Caesar, Titus Pullus had met more varieties of men, in all shapes, sizes, and colors, than almost any other man alive. It was this experience that led him to reject out of hand the second alternative; Pullus simply didn't believe that there was such a race of men. No, he concluded, it must be learned, and this was what he was thinking about as he finally fell asleep.

  Dawn came to the Island of Wa, as it always did, the sun rising from the east, although it was partly obscured by a layer of clouds. In the pass, the men of the royal guard had been roused, and their commander was now walking among them, making sure all was ready. The archers, the most important part of his force for the first phase of his plan, had already begun arranging their supply of arrows by sticking them point first into the ground, immediately behind each man. There were also several quivers, stuffed with missiles, the commander ordering the entire supply to be brought to the pass, minus what would be needed by the archers left in the capital. He envisioned nothing less than a rain of arrows, counting on the speed and accuracy of his archers to keep the grubworms caught in the trap pinned down and unable to squirm away. But that wasn't all; once the barbarian general and the men caught in the deadfall were eliminated, the commander was counting on the confusion and the chaos caused by the grubworms who were outside the deadfall and who turned about trying to escape to give his archers even more targets. Although he didn't hold out much hope that he could singlehandedly defeat these grubworms before the lords of the north arrived. But if he could damage them even more than he would by the removal of their general, he would do so.

  Despite the enormous temptation, the commander had refrained from sending out scouts to ride in the direction of the lake, in order to watch the grubworms. Nothing could happen now to alert the barbarians that this trap was waiting for them, and as much as he trusted his scouts and their ability to stay undetected, he couldn't take the risk. That's why he sat there, growing steadily impatient and more concerned when there was no sign of any enemy activity. No sounds of movement down the road in the direction of the lake that would indicate a large number of men approaching; no sight of the mounted scouts of the grubworms making sure the way was clear. He wasn't worried about the latter; his men were all carefully concealed under layers of dead leaves and brush, and he had promised that the slightest movement, on either side of the road, would bring execution of not just the transgressing warrior, but his entire family. Shortly after dawn, he and two of his sub-commanders had walked along the track, searching for signs that might give their presence away, but even when he had walked a short distance off the roadbed and up the slope, he had been unable to detect any sign of his own men. No, he wasn't worried by the presence of the scouts, but he was worried about their absence, and it was growing with every passing moment. All around him birds were singing and small animals were going about their business in the underbrush, further proof that he and his men were well hidden, but the peace of the scene was in direct contrast to the growing turmoil within him. Where were they?

  They had just managed it, the last of the wagons rumbling up to the spot the Decurion had chosen, a perfect spot to keep the army hidden away, despite the fact that he had done it in the dark. Caesar took notice of this and decided that in the last two days the Decurion had more than redeemed himself. No camp had been made; this wasn't going to be a spot they stayed in long. Only the wagons, the slaves, and all the men in supporting roles would be staying here, along with a guard, as the rest of the army traveled the mile through the notch, climbing the low hill that screened Caesar's army from detection. Speaking of the low hill, even before the sun rose, Caesar and his staff, including the Primi Pili, had made their way to a spot where they could just see down into the valley, knowing from long experience to work their way up slowly, so that from the other side of the hill only their heads would be visible. All that would be needed were the eyes, and the presence of the tor
ches still blazing, as the Wa continued to work frantically through the night on a substantial ditch and earthen wall. In fact, the torches served to help Caesar and his staff, because they provided an almost perfect outline that gave the Romans the dimensions of the fortifications. The sight prompted one of the staff to let out a low whistle.

  "I'll have to give it to them," Pollio broke the silence. "That's a pretty good-sized position. Can anyone see how high the wall is?"

  "Not yet, it's still too dark," Caesar replied, but like Pollio, he too was impressed, if not at the strength, then at the size of the enclosed space. "But it looks like the walls are perhaps a mile wide and just a bit more than that long."

  "That would take half the army to defend those," Aulus Flaminius made no attempt to hide his concern. "Does that mean they still have 10,000 men left to do the same?"

  Flaminius wasn't the only one who was thinking this, he was just the first to voice it. In fact, the moment Caesar and his officers saw the dimensions, every one of them did the mental mathematics that yielded the same number, prompting the same question in each of their minds. It was true that none of the scouts had reported any sign that would indicate the presence of that large a group of the enemy, but it wouldn't have been the first time something like this had happened. Not lost on any of them was the rude surprise they had all received just days before, when about that many barbarian warriors had managed to hide themselves away in one of their camps before launching the surprise second attack on the northern camp.

  "I suppose we'll find out shortly," was Caesar's reply, but not even he could fully suppress the concern from his voice.

  The rest of the time, before the sun came up from behind them, peeking over the ridge to their right rear, was spent in total silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. However, not lost on any of them was that from the direction they would be attacking, they would have not only the element of surprise, but their enemy would also be forced to stare into the sun. More than once, Caesar had used this to great advantage and if they were lucky, or favored by the gods, they would actually be able to close part of what was now clearly no more than the two miles to the nearest part of the fortifications, before being spotted. Finally, the first rays shot down over the ridge, and any question about this venture receiving the favor of the gods was removed from the minds of the assembled Romans. The immediate comparison that came to more than one mind was that it was as if the light from the great lighthouse at Alexandria had suddenly been transported to the top of the ridge, because of the way the long wall of the western side of the new fortifications was illuminated. Going from the gloom to bright sunshine so quickly was a bit disorienting, but immediately afterward every pair of eyes, Caesar's included, had examined the wall and far corner of the fortification.

  "Wall, ditch, sharpened stakes in the ditch, all the expected defenses," Caesar remarked casually. "And it doesn't look as if the ground in front of the ditch has been prepared in any way. Given the little time they've had, I seriously doubt they could have covered up any traps without leaving some kind of trace. It's hard to tell the height of the wall without any men around to provide a scale, but my guess is that the earthen part is no more than ten feet tall. And while our palisade stakes are five feet long, with one foot buried in the dirt, these people are somewhat smaller than we are, so my guess would be the palisade is about three feet or perhaps three and a half feet high. If my dimensions of the height of the wall are correct, then it looks like the wall and the rampart are perhaps ten feet wide. Which would mean," Caesar was silent for a moment as he did the calculations, once again amazing the men around him at his ability to perform such difficult mathematic calculations in his head, "that the ditch, which is clearly wider than the wall is high, is relatively shallow, let's say about six feet deep. So," he smiled thinly, amused at the looks on the faces of his staff as he wondered why they continued to be surprised at what he considered little more than a trick one played at parties to amuse the guests, "we need 15 foot ladders. I believe we have a sufficient supply of 20 foot poles?"

  This question was directed to his chief engineer, Gaius Volusenus, who was also his chief exploring officer, and next to Ventidius and Caesar himself one of the oldest men on the campaign. It had been Volusenus who had sailed to Britannia and surveyed the sites that Caesar and the army had used for both landings, and had been the co-creator of the bridge over the Rhine river that was considered a marvel of the age by the men with knowledge of such things. Over the last ten years, he had continually perfected his craft and office of praefectus fabrorum, including the practice of harvesting saplings of a certain size and length and keeping a supply of them for use in building ladders, scaffolds and all manner of things. Ever since they had reached the eastern lands of the Pandya, and all across the vast expanse of Asia and into the Han kingdom, they had used poles from the bamboo tree, which had proven to be the best material for a number of purposes that either Volusenus or Caesar had come across. It was light but incredibly strong, and supple enough that it could bear an enormous strain by bending, but not breaking. Now there were two wagons devoted to nothing but carrying supplies of bamboo poles, in two lengths, 20 and 30 feet, and these would supply as many ladders as needed.

  "We have more than enough, Caesar," Volusenus replied, his speech marred by the missing front teeth, both top and bottom, courtesy of a Pandyan club across the face, which had left him with a horribly scarred lip.

  Despite the impediment, Caesar and the other officers, as well as the men who were assigned to Volusenus when he had projects that required more than brute strength and a shovel, had learned to understand him.

  "Then get started on them now. I expect them to be ready in no less than a third of a watch."

  Volusenus saluted and immediately turned his horse, heading back to the wagons at a canter, while the rest of the officers waited for orders. The sun had by this point fully illuminated almost the entire fortification, and now Caesar could see that the southern wall had been erected roughly in the middle of what was the southernmost neighborhood of the city. While the other villages and towns were laid out in the same neat, symmetrical pattern that was strikingly similar to that of the city of Alexandria, this was clearly the largest population center that Caesar and his army had come across. The houses along the axis of the southern wall had been torn down, and for the first time Caesar saw an advantage in the light and flimsy construction techniques that were a feature of this land. It was true he had been warned by the Han that this was a terrible and violent land, where the ground shook and tore itself apart, but since nothing like this had happened since they had landed, it was hard for Caesar to see the advantage. Although this wasn't an earthquake, he could see that their building methods definitely allowed the barbarians to construct a wall and ditch of these dimensions very rapidly, without having to worry about excessive debris. Even as this thought ran through his mind, his eye continued in a westward direction, along the southern wall, more or less following the sun's arc, as it illuminated more of the wall. Suddenly, he stiffened in his saddle, his attention caught by something that at first he thought was some sort of illusion, a trick of his eyes that was just another part of growing old. Only after squinting, then, using a trick he had learned of pulling the skin at the corner of his eye that seemed to give him a moment of the visual acuity of his youth, did he realize that what he was seeing was real.

  Immediately turning to the others, he snapped, "Figulus! Flaminius! Get your men up and ready to march, now! I want them moving by the time I get back there! Now go!"

  The Primi Pili of the 14th and 30th Legion both looked at each other in alarm, but it was Flaminius who spoke for both of them.

  "Now, Caesar? What about the ladders? Shouldn't we wait until they're ready?"

  Glancing down from his horse, Caesar suddenly realized that because of his vantage point, he was able to see something the standing Primi Pili couldn't, because of their lower elevation. Holding a hand down, it took
a moment for Flaminius to realize what Caesar was doing, then grasping the older man's hand, he put a foot against the side of Caesar's horse as Caesar levered him up. The horse shifted in protest against the boot in his side, but Caesar was already pointing.

  "See there? At the eastern end? They haven't finished the wall! You won't need ladders, but only if we move now!"

  Without waiting for an answer, Caesar let go of Flaminius' hand and dropped the Primus Pilus to the ground, then patted the horse gently on the neck to soothe him. He didn't need to say anything more, because both Flaminius and Figulus were racing away to rouse their Legions. As they did so, Caesar continued watching, as the entire area became bathed in sunlight, and his heart soared at the sight.

  "Not only have they not finished, there's not anyone to defend the walls!"

  From his vantage point—higher up than down in the valley that held the capital, dawn came earlier for the waiting Wa commander, but for the first time he was beginning to be beset by true doubt. Could it possibly be that the grubworms were such late risers? Or had something gone wrong at the ford that was delaying them? Thinking this was the most likely alternative, he finally forced himself to break from his own hiding spot to move up and around the shoulder of the hill where their ambush was set, moving away from the road to the spot where his mounted scouts were waiting in a small clearing. Seeing their commander approach, the dozen warriors jumped to their feet, still holding onto the reins of their respective ponies.

  Pointing to two men, he barked a summons, and they moved quickly to face him, bringing their ponies with them.

  "I have a task for you," he said brusquely, "but not under any circumstances can you betray our position. If you do, the same orders that I gave to the ambushing force apply; not only will you be executed, but your families as well. Is that understood?"