by C K Ruppelt
“How is Labienus these days?” Aulus Hirtius asked Caesar. “I admit I was surprised when you tapped him as the Tenth’s next Legatus. He’s known to be Pompeius’ man through and through.”
“From what I can tell he has done a fine job in getting the Tenth into fighting shape. They were ready when I left Narbo Martius and will be here in another three weeks at most,” Caesar replied. “As to him being a Pompeius man, I am very much aware of that. I know they are strongly connected, the entire Labienus family has been a client of the Pompeii in Picenum Asculum since time immemorial. Don’t forget though, our great Pompeius is now also my son-in-law and Julia is a strong bond between us. In addition, I’ve worked with Labienus in the courts for years and know him to be dependable, leaving me no reason to doubt his faithful service.”
They rode down a new Roman road south of the city of Mediolanum, followed by a few cavalry men and Caesar’s ever present lictors. The road had been built to connect several major thoroughfares from the south, the east, and the west with the city itself. The early morning fog over fresh growth in the fields provided an eerie mood for the landscape. The only traffic encountered this early were occasional produce carts of local farmers heading to market. “What exactly are the numbers for our two new legions up to?” Caesar asked, changing the topic.
“We are past three quarters. The word is out, young men are flocking to our recruiters from fifty miles around. Nearly all of the ones we’ve signed are still in basic training, though we are running them hard in case you need us to shortcut the traditional four months. That said, I wouldn’t go anywhere with them until we do at least three. You’ll see when we get there.”
They were on their way to visit the first of several training grounds west of the city. Hirtius pointed back, and Caesar saw one of his lictors ride up. “There is a courier here, wishing to speak with you, sir. He says it’s urgent.”
Caesar reined in. “Bring him to me, please.”
The man waved back at his colleagues who rode up with a lone rider who had the official sigil of the senatorial courier service on a chain around his neck. The horse’s mouth and sides were caked with foam, proving the man had pushed the animal hard.
“Ave sirs, I am here for governor Gaius Julius Caesar. I came from Narbo Martius with an urgent letter from the Provincial headquarters there,” the man proclaimed.
“You found him. Please hand me the scroll and let me sign for it,” Caesar answered before dismounting. His lictors followed suit. He signed the man’s receipt, broke the seal on the scroll and started reading.
“What is the urgent news?” Hirtius asked.
“Trouble for Gallia Transalpina. The nation of the Helvetii has petitioned me to allow them use of the road westward from their lands in the mountains. They want to travel through our province to the free lands of Gallia beyond.”
“They are raiders like most of the Celtic tribes, right? I have my doubts they would wander peacefully through the province,” Hirtius stated the obvious.
Caesar turned to the courier. “Come with us, I need to write two letters for you to take back. The first is for Titus Labienus, commander of the Tenth legion currently on the move. You might have passed them on the road here.” Caesar saw the man nod. “The other needs to go back to Narbo Martius, delivered to the deputy governor of Gallia Transalpina. He needs to officially send word to the Helvetii for me that I am thinking about their request, and that they’ll have an answer soon.”
He mounted again. “Geneva is the closest provincial city to their lands. Any idea how long it will take to travel there from here?” He asked Hirtius.
His friend shook his head. “No, but I am sure we are about to find out.”
***
“Bring the men to the bridge,” Caesar told the centurion. “I’ll meet you there.”
He sauntered along the water’s edge ahead of his lictors to where the water of the lake flowed out into the Rhodanus river. He stopped and turned. The wall of the city of Geneva was close behind him, and a few farms and settlements were visible along the lake shore across the water. He continued to study the bridge crossing the Rhodanus a few hundred feet from the lake. If we take out these cross braces… that might be the easiest way to take down one of the segments in a way that can be restored at a later time.
He heard the oversized century of soldiers arrive behind him. “What do you need us to do, sir?” the centurion asked.
Caesar looked at the young men, the first of the new Eleventh legion to have passed their basic training.
“I need you to take the bridge apart to deny the Helvetii out there”—he pointed across the river—“any easy way of crossing. Let me show you what I think will be easiest.” Caesar took the lead down the bank to the river where he could point at the braces he had in mind.
A week later, an elderly Helvetius showed up in Caesar’s small camp. “Salve, mighty proconsul. I am a retainer of Divico, foremost chieftain of our nation and elected war king, who heard that you are here in person. He sent me to ask if you have decided to allow our nation access to your road along the Rhodanus. We will make it worth your while with many lavish gifts.”
“I am sorry, I have not made up my mind yet. I want to give you a favorable decision but will not be able to until a later time. Tell Divico to send a delegation in two weeks that is ready for some negotiations, and please give your king my best regards.” I want these people unworried and thinking that I can be bought, at least until the Tenth is here in a few more days.
***
The legion had arrived late yesterday, building its customary camp close to the dismantled bridge. This morning was miserable, cold, and full of promise for heavy rain. Yet, Caesar could not wait for better weather, time was too short. He marched straight up to the legion’s command tent. “Are you here, old friend?”
“I am back here. Good morning,” Labienus replied with a tired voice, standing at one of the braziers for warmth.
“I know you and the men just arrived, but we don’t have much time. I need to put them to work immediately. Please have them assemble so I can address them.”
“Better you than me,” Labienus commented. “Can we at least wait until after they have some breakfast? That should make them more receptive to whatever you have to tell them.”
Caesar nodded in reply. “Thank you, that will help. Please bring them out to the field in front of the Porta Praetoria. I’ll wait for the call to assemble.” He headed back out to find a wagon he could stand on during his speech. He wanted to be seen by everybody.
An hour later Caesar watched the men form up into their centuries and cohorts in the middle of a heavy downpour. He closed his bright-red military cape to help with the chilly morning and smiled to himself. His new sagum, as the big piece of wool was called, had been a gift from his young wife, handed to him when he said good-bye to leave Rome for the provinces. “You told me that you needed to be clearly seen and recognized by your men during battle. Well, my dear, now you will be,” she had said with a glint in her eyes when handing him the wrapped package. “Everybody who will see you will want one for themselves.” He had been puzzled until he had opened the package on the road that night.
He watched the legionaries assemble, all wearing their own cloaks ranging from light browns to deep greens. As long as the wool got regular treatment of lanolin from fresh sheep’s skin, it would stave off the wet and cold days such as this. The officers now moved up to stand in front of the cohorts, their sagums in traditional deep purple, and his smile turned into a grin. I have to remember that thinking of my dear Calpurnia helps with the jitters before giving speeches.
He mounted the wagon’s platform. All the men could see him, and he projected his voice over the rain to be heard as far beyond the front ranks as possible. “Welcome, loyal legionaries of the Tenth Legion. All of you have now sworn your oath of loyalty to me twice. First in Hispania as raw recruits, and again two months ago in Narbo Martius.”
He t
urned to look beyond the big square of legionaries where the auxilia archers, slingers, and cavalry men had been lined up.
“I want to thank every single one of you for hurrying here. Let me tell you why you were asked to come to this place. The whole nation of the Helvetii wants to travel through our province of Gallia Transalpina. We cannot let them do this. They must be stopped here at the border, or they will burn and pillage our lands in the process.”
Good, the men are hanging on my every word. He added a dramatic pause before continuing. “I am sorry to have to ask you to keep up your haste. I need your shovels, your baskets, and your axes. If we want to be successful in keeping out the Helvetii, which are a numerous nation, we need to build a long wall from this lake to the nearest mountain.” He pointed west. “I know wet dirt is hard to move, but we cannot wait for better weather because we would be too late.” He scanned the crowd up and down again, nodding to many of the men he recognized. “I was proud to march with the Tenth through Hispania. You men are the finest legionaries any commander could hope for. Therefore, I know you will not let me down, but will make me proud again!”
The men cheered as he stepped off the wagon.
On his way to Labienus he noticed Lucius Cornelius Balbus, old friend and prefect of the legion’s engineers. “Come with me, my friend!” he called and marched on until he reached the legate. “I will ride out with Balbus and his engineers to figure out the construction details. I need you to be ready to break camp, the need is to spread the men along the south side of the river in several smaller forts, otherwise we cannot garrison such a long stretch effectively with so few men. The most effective wall is one we can build quickly, so I envision our standard ten-foot-high wooden palisade following along the river’s southern side. It should be located above the banks and behind our usual ditch, with regular towers to allow for signals as calls for reinforcements.” The wall would stretch for a full nineteen miles, all the way from the southern tip of the lake to the first cliffs of the Jura mountains. He turned to Balbus. “Are you ready? Please gather your men.”
***
A few days later, Caesar supervised the final parts of the huge building project, his men closing off the last stretch to the lake. “Did we deploy the heavy bolt throwers yet?” he asked.
“Yes, we have them on each watchtower, and one is ready for when this one is finished,” Balbus answered.
Good, nearly done. And that gods-forsaken rain finally stopped as well.
He walked up to a tired looking legionary and took the man’s shovel. “Sit down, you deserve a rest.” Time to show the legionaries and auxiliaries again that he was not above doing hard work. He sunk knee deep into the mud while digging the bottom of the trench before he was interrupted by Publius Licinius Crassus.
“Sir, there is a Helvetii embassy here that wants to speak to you.” Though still very young at twenty-three, his ally’s second son was looking more and more like a good catch. Though his age meant he couldn’t be advanced past his status of tribune for the time being, the man was both sharp and already a proven leader. I’ll keep an open mind about him.
“Bring them here, please,” Caesar answered, climbing out of the ditch and wiping his hands on the hem of his tunic. He did not have to wait long and was duly impressed by the sight. The delegation contained only two men, though they wore the finest things available to people like them. Long pants covered the upper rim of their soft leather boots, and long, colorful cloaks wrapped their bodies against the cold. They looked splendid, clearly leaders among their own people, with small blue tattoos peeking out at the wrists and necks to show their status. Broad leather belts did double duty by keeping their cloaks closed and providing a place to hold their beautifully decorated sword sheaths. The cloaks, the sheaths, and even the belts were all ornately trimmed in gold. Their hair was cut short, and they were both clean-shaven except for impressively thick mustaches. Caesar took in all of it until his eyes rested on the massive Celtic gold torcs sticking out from their cloaks, made of three cords formed from multiple strands of gold wire, all braided together. Pure gold, the ultimate status symbol for these men, showing they have both money and power.
When young Crassus pointed at him, the two men stood silent and stared in disbelief. Caesar laughed. They must have thought it impossible for a Roman general to get his hands and clothes dirty, or maybe it was that other surprise, the massive wall that had sprung up all along the river bank behind him as far as the eye could see.
The smaller one of the two men started to speak in perfect Latin.
“Salve Caesar. I am council member Bricio, son of Orgetorix. The Council of the Helvetii nation wants you to know that we cannot wait any longer. King Divico demands your answer - do you allow our nation to pass through the lands of the Allobroges at the northern border of your Roman province?”
The other of the two men spoke up. “Let it be, Bricio. We already have our answer. That wall is meant to keep us out.”
Caesar looked them up and down. At that pivotal moment, covered in dirt and cold sweat, he decided to put his carefully laid plans for his conquest of Dacia on hold. Why should I go anywhere else? If I play this right, the riches I dreamt of could be had right here.
“You are correct, this wall is your answer. I cannot and will not let you pass. I know what would happen to our province if your warriors were to wander through.” He gestured at the wall. “Try to force the issue if you must, we are ready for you.”
He addressed tribune Crassus. “Please escort these men back to their boat. There is nothing more to discuss.”
***
Two weeks later, Caesar ran westward beside the wall at the head of a small relief force. The signal towers had indicated yet another attack, this time between the seventh and eighth towers as counted from the lake, and the run made him sweat hard despite the cool morning hour. The Helvetii had crossed the river in small groups for several days now, probing for weaknesses in the Roman defense. So far, we’ve repelled every one of their sorties. The watchtowers have proven their worth over and over, and so have our auxiliaries.
The Tenth’s archers and slingers had stayed spread out along the wall sections, raining arrows, rocks or lead shot on the enemy at every opportunity.
They reached a section packed tightly with legionaries. “Who is in charge?” Caesar asked the first centurion he encountered.
“That would be tribune Crassus. Just keep going toward the next tower, you can’t miss him,” the man answered.
He nodded and ran on. He didn’t have to go far before he came upon a cluster of officers, standard bearers and horn blowers. Crassus saw him arrive and walked up to him. “Salve proconsul! We beat them back, at least for now. How many did you bring?”
“Two full centuries. Will they try here one more time?” Caesar replied.
“Possibly, or a few hundred feet over. I’d appreciate your men staying close for the next hour or two.” Crassus looked tired and dirty. Most of the men didn’t get much sleep, with frequent alarms up and down the wall. “I just hope they won’t ever do more than test us.”
“I agree. They could overrun us with ease if they gathered more than just a few hundred fighters in one place. As far as I know, the Helvetii have many tens of thousands of warriors,” Caesar mused. “I’ll go tell the men I brought to get comfortable for now, we’ll stay close.”
He walked back a few hundred feet and had the two centuries stretch out on a lesser populated wall section. They waited for three uneventful hours before he told them to head back.
A few more hours passed without attacks or even as much as a sighting of the enemy. Caesar sent a courier with instructions for the Tenth’s cavalry prefect to bring Celtic scouts across to the other side of the river. He needed to know what the enemy was up to now.
***
Two days later the flap of Caesar’s tent swung inward and his servant Cleisthenes’s head popped in. “The first of the scouts has returned.”
“Br
ing him, bring him in!” Caesar said in excitement.
The Celtic cavalry man walked in and gave him a Roman style salute. Caesar smiled in response. “Please, what can you tell me of the Helvetii forces? Why have they stopped attacking?
“They are all gone. Every family, every man, woman, child and dog. I could not believe it at first, so I searched in ever wider circles until I found their trail. They took all their wagons and moved toward a narrow pass through the Jura mountains. As far as I know, it leads directly to the southern border of the lands of the Sequani.”
And here it is. If they are still planning to go west as before they will not enter the Sequani nation but instead move through the lands of the Aedui—friends and allies of Rome. The Helvetii had just given him the perfect excuse.
“Thank you, good work.” He shook the man’s hand to show his appreciation and dismissed him. “Cleisthenes, send someone to bring Titus Labienus to me at once.” He sat down at his folding table and pulled out a stack of map scrolls, unrolling them one after the other. After an hour of brooding he heard the heavy thudding of a man running in armor, followed by the rustling of the tent flap.
“Come in my friend, have a seat. I talked to the first of the returning scouts, and he told me that the Helvetii are all gone. Stay here for another three weeks, and if nothing else happens, take down the camps and move west. Let me show you where I want you to go.” He moved the scrolls around until he found the best depiction of southern Gallia. “Right here, just south of the Rhodanus.” He grinned when he saw Labienus’ raised eyebrows. “The Helvetii are about to enter the lands of the Aedui. In a few weeks’ time I will meet you where the Arar and the Rhodanus meet. I need to go back to Mediolanum first.”
696 AUC (58 BC), late spring
Aquileia, Roman Province of Gallia Cisalpina
