Marching With Caesar-Birth of the 10th Legion

by R. W. Peake

  “Kill ‘em all, boys!”

  The Pilus Prior shouted, and when I glanced over, I saw him grin, his lips pulled back over his teeth and his eyes shining with bloodlust as he circled his gladius in the air just before dropping it down to point at the Gallaeci.

  “Porro!”

  This time, our roar was wholehearted and I was sure that the gods in the heavens and down below sat up to take notice. Dis was going to have his hands full, I thought as I went smashing into the breach, shouting at the men of the Fifth that the Second was here to save them.

  Hearing our cries, the men of the Fifth engaged with the enemy gave the last of their energy to bash the Gallaeci backwards before stepping aside to let us come charging through their lines. Even as we went hurtling past, I glimpsed the fatigue and relief on the faces of the Fifth before I barreled into a warrior, knocking him head over heels. Flying backwards, he struck two other Gallaeci, who in turn fell down in a heap and, before any of them could recover, I stepped up to make three quick thrusts, ending each of them. Our Century came pouring into the breach and, in the space of a few heartbeats, what was a slight bulge no more than a few feet across by a few feet deep now expanded out until our whole Century was inside the first wall. Spreading outwards along the base of the first wall, we kept it to either our left or right as we moved parallel to it, rapidly expanding our position in order to allow the other Centuries to come piling in. The men of the Fifth withdrew, giving us room to add more men and, within moments, the first wall was effectively taken in our sector. Pausing a moment to assess the situation, a quick inventory was taken by the Pilus Prior. There were a couple of wounded in our Century, yet no deaths, a great start, but it was not over by a long shot because we still had to cross the open ground to the second wall.

  Some of the more alert of the Gallaeci arrayed further down the wall saw us bursting through and realized that they were in real danger of being cut off, so they began streaming off the first wall, heading back to the second where more of their comrades waited. As we watched, ladders made of both wood and rope were dropped over the side to allow the defenders on the first wall to climb to safety, and the Pilus Prior dispatched two Centuries to hurry over to try to cut them off, but they were driven back by heavy fire from the slingers and bowmen on the second wall. Despite making a good start, we were about to be exposed to another danger; as long as there was a fight going on for the first wall, the missile troops on the second wall dared not fire for fear of hitting their own men, but once we killed or drove off those defenders, the way was clear now for them to open fire.

  “Testudo by Centuries!”

  Despite moving quickly, some of us fell before we could get into the proper formation. Meanwhile, the Pilus Prior of the Cohort immediately behind us did indeed have the presence of mind to shift his attack to the second breach, and shortly after we were finished, they had secured that one as well. Now we had to cross the open ground, maneuvering across under fire, while also negotiating a ditch laced with sharpened stakes and caltrops, nasty devices that consist of two spikes twisted around each other so that no matter how you throw them to the ground, there is a sharpened point sticking up. And we had to do it under fire, while carrying ladders. In other words, a right bastard of a job.

  “There’s no use just standing here giving them targets to hit,” the Pilus Prior said in a manner that suggested he was talking to himself more than he was to us, while we huddled underneath our scuta, waiting for the word to advance.

  By this point, I was back in my normal spot in the formation, as were the other large men, our Century moving a way out from the wall to allow for the others of our Cohort to form up inside the wall.

  “Pilus Prior.” This was the Optio’s voice, and we strained to hear what he had to say over the din of the lead missiles from the slings skipping off our scuta. “Did you notice anything strange about when those bastards left the first wall?”

  “What do you mean, Optio? Spit it out, man; we don’t have time for riddles.”

  “What I mean is that they had to negotiate the ditch and obstacles just like we will, right? But did you see how quickly they scampered across? It was almost as if…”

  Cutting him off, Pilus Prior Crastinus finished excitedly, “As if they had a path across the ground that allowed them to move like the obstacles weren’t there in the first place.”

  The pride in the Optio’s voice was clear for all of us to hear. “Exactly. There has to be a way across where we won’t have to worry about that damn ditch. It’s further down that way.”

  And despite our situation, we grinned at each other. We all liked Rufio a great deal, making any success of his good news for us as well as far as we were concerned. The command was given and we began walking slowly, still in testudo, along the inside of the first wall. Both the Optio and Pilus Prior, using the scuta picked up from fallen men to protect them, as is the habit of the officers in battle, searched for the signs of the path across. It soon became clear to the Gallaeci what we were up to, so they began concentrating their fire on our officers, who were then forced to integrate with our formation for better protection, making finding the path even more difficult. Further compounding the difficulty was the fact that we were also carrying the ladders inside the testudo, which is a trick, I can promise you. There was a steady hail of missiles by now, creating such a racket that even as we shouted at each other, it was almost impossible to hear. It was only because the years of drilling made his lungs as powerful as leather bellows that we heard the Pilus Prior cry out in triumph when he found the path, marked by a series of stakes. If the Gallaeci had been smart, they would have pulled them up as they crossed over, but I gave a promise to Fortuna that I would make a sacrifice in thanks that they had not. The Pilus Prior sent Rufio to tell the other Cohort at the second breach what we found and what to look for, while we turned to head across the ground towards the second wall. Despite the hail of fire, we all had learned our lessons well about not giving in to the temptation of taking a peek by shifting our scuta even an inch, so we did not lose anyone crossing the ditch. Despite the stakes, we still had to be careful, the path being barely wide enough to accommodate the width of our Century; I grazed several of the stakes with my hip as we passed them. Climbing out of the ditch with our testudo still intact, within another couple of moments, we made it directly underneath the second wall. Now it was our turn to inflict some punishment, as some of us waited with our pila for one of the Gallaeci to take a chance of leaning out over the wall to try hitting us with a sling or arrow. It only took a few of them getting a pilum through the face to discourage the rest sufficiently that we could break out of the testudo and begin the process of placing the ladders while some of our comrades covered us with pila. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw a line of Centuries, all in testudo, following the exact path we had taken, with what looked like the boys of the Sixth Century immediately behind us just climbing out of the ditch. They would move further down along the wall, and we would wait while the ladders were in place at several points before we all went up them at the same time. This gave us a bit of a chance to regain our breath, which we took advantage of, pulling out our canteens and sucking down as much water as we could, knowing that it would be some time before we could do so again.

  It took almost a sixth part of a watch for all of the Centuries of both Cohorts to get across the ditch and into place for the assault up the wall. The remaining Cohorts had made it to the first wall and were sheltered just on the other side, safe from the missiles of the men on the second wall. One disadvantage of their position was that the supporting Cohorts could not see us up against the second wall, and therefore would have to rely on the sounds of the horns to know when it was time for them to come across to make their own ascent once we had cleared the wall. While we waited, we could hear the sounds of battle going on over where the 9th was assaulting, although it was impossible to tell what was happening exactly or how it was going for them.

  “
They’re probably fouling it up,” Vibius sneered with the disdain one Legionary holds for a Legion not his own. “You know those cunni couldn’t find their ass with both hands.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed with him, as did the others.

  “Get ready, boys,” the Pilus Prior called out to us as he returned from the other Centuries. What makes the job of the senior Centurion of a Cohort so challenging is that he not only has to run his own Century, but he has to ensure that the others are doing what they are supposed to be doing as well, requiring him to be in several places at once, a feat that Crastinus somehow always managed to pull off with what appeared to be a minimum of effort. Every one of us swore that he had eyes in the back of his head and hearing so sensitive that he could hear a gnat fart, and as I was to learn later, in order for a Centurion to be good at his job, it is essential that this be as close to the truth as possible.

  For once, I was not going to be one of the first over; instead, I would be bracing the ladder, and although I was thankful that I was given a relatively easy duty, I would be lying if I said that I was not also slightly hurt. Until that moment, I had not realized it, but I had gotten accustomed to being one of the first into any breach or up a wall, and in the back of my mind, I could not help wondering if I had done something to make the Pilus Prior question my ability, or even worse, my courage. However, as I was about to find out, there was another reason he made the dispositions in this manner.

  After telling me I was going to brace the ladder, he turned and pointed his vitus directly at Didius and barked, “You there, Achilles.” He gave an emphasis to the nickname that did not imply that it was a compliment. “We’re going to see what you’re made of and if you can live up to the name. You’re going up first.”

  Didius turned as white as I had ever seen him, and before he caught himself, started to choke out a protest before stopping immediately when he saw the expression of not just the Pilus Prior, but of all of us. Gulping, he merely nodded and turned away so that his face did not betray his emotions. We all eyed each other, not having to say a word. The horns sounded, the ladders went up, and with another roar, the men of the Second Cohort began the climb. Sitting with my back to the wall, I gripped the sides of the ladder to make sure that nobody stepped on my hands, and in this position, I got a front row seat to see Didius mount the ladder. I wish I could say that I felt some sort of pity for him, but I did not; instead, I experienced a great sense of satisfaction seeing the sheer terror on his upturned face as he climbed, his shaky legs nevertheless propelling him upwards. I very clearly felt the tremors of his body as he ascended, and it was with grim pleasure that I thought, now we’re going to see how much is talk and how much is deed.

  Immediately following him was Rufio, who gave me a quick grin as he followed Didius up and he called out to me, “I think he caced himself. At least that’s what it smells like.”

  I laughed, as did the others who heard him, although if Didius heard, he was too terrified to give one of his normal surly retorts. Scribonius went up behind Rufio and I heard the first clash of metal, followed by a cry as Didius got to the top. Immediately, the progress up the ladder stopped and I frowned in concern, exchanging a look with Vellusius, who had just stepped onto the first rung. This was not good; the key to storming a wall is to get as many men on the parapet as quickly as possible, and I wondered if this had happened when I went up the ladder the first time. Being fair, I knew that it was impossible to judge time in moments like this, so it might very well have been the same when I did it, yet it did not seem that way, and judging from the concerned looks on the others’ faces, I had to believe that there was a problem.

  “Achilles, you lazy bastard,” Rufio called, “make us some room up there.”

  Over the clanging of metal, I heard Didius reply desperately, “I’m trying, damn you!”

  “Well, don’t try, you stupid bastard; do it!”

  Finally, Rufio gave an exasperated growl and forced his way up the ladder, his voice adding to the melee on the wall. In a few heartbeats, whatever had been holding everyone up was taken care of, because the flow of men began again, moving quickly this time. Finally, I was the last one left and I pulled myself to my feet, giving the job of bracing the ladder to the designated man from the Century behind us and followed everyone else up.

  The sight that met my eyes was one of chaos, even more than normal in an assault like this, with the Gallaeci flowing down the hill from the town like ants, headed towards the walls, where the men of the First Century were battling the warriors who were still fanatically fighting on the parapet. They were resisting with the desperate courage of men who knew that not only were they the last line of defense protecting their families, they were the last gasps of a rebellion, and defeat would mean the destruction of their people. Caesar’s treatment of the Lusitani that he defeated was no secret by this point, and it was this knowledge that kept them fighting long after they should have been exhausted. My heart sank when I saw a number of Roman bodies littering the parapet, and I could only hope that none of them were my tent mates; it was bad enough that they were from my Century. Looking for a place to stick in and help, I saw a small knot of Gallaeci pressing hard against Calienus and Atilius, both of them with their backs to the wall, frantically parrying the blows of the Gallaeci warriors. With a shout, I rushed over to help them, catching the Gallaeci by surprise. One of them turned his attention to me, snapping something to the others, obviously an order to keep up their assault on my two friends while he would handle me. Giving him a savage grin at this sign of his hubris, I beckoned him to come at me. He had a short gladius, similar to those that we used, and he wielded it with some skill, but in a moment, I had his measure; he was too aggressive and prone to over-commit and expose himself. Feigning a retreat after one spirited attack on his part, it gave him the encouragement to press me, which was exactly what I wanted. Once again, he made a thrust and overextended himself, so that for a brief instant, his throat was exposed because his arm was too far forward. It was enough, and I relished the look of shock in his eyes as my blade punched through, coming out the back of his skull, then twisted the blade to free it, kicking him out of the way as I did so. His comrades had too much faith in his ability because their attention was still turned totally towards Calienus and Atilius, so I dispatched two of them with quick thrusts to the back before the other three realized what was happening. Now they were caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place, and in an instant, they were all finished.

  “Thanks, Pullus,” Calienus gasped and I grinned, giving a quick salute before we turned our attention to other targets.

  Working together, we moved along the wall, trying to link up with the other Century further down, squeezing the Gallaeci into a smaller and smaller space as we did so, giving them less room to work while increasing our chances of hitting someone as they became more densely packed. Things were beginning to swing in our favor and the Gallaeci knew it, prompting some of them to jump off the parapet to retreat up the hill to form another line of defense. Some of our men kept their heads about them and, on seeing the Gallaeci warriors jumping down, snatched up their pila, flinging them into the backs of some of the retreating warriors. As the situation on the parapet began to stabilize, I began looking around for Vibius. When I saw him, a cry of fear escaped my lips before I could stop it.

  Vibius was lying on the parapet, his lower body covered in blood as he lay motionless among other bodies, both Roman and Gallaeci. Running to him, I fell to my knees beside him. He was facedown and as I reached for him to turn him over, I saw my hands trembling; I had never been so afraid in all my life about what I might find. Steeling myself, I gently turned him over, a gasp of relief exploding from me as I saw his eyes flutter. He looked up, his eyes fuzzy and unfocused before they finally rested on my face. Seeing that he recognized me, I took this to be a good sign.

  “Wha….what happened? Where am I, Titus?”

  “You’ve been wounded,” I repli
ed in what I hoped was a comforting tone, but I had my doubts when I saw his eyes widen in alarm. Immediately, his hands began to roam over his body, and I grabbed them, saying as gently as I could, “Don’t do that. Let me see. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  I began by examining his lower torso, his tunic caked with blood underneath his lorica, not bothering to hide my relief when I determined that he did not have any kind of belly wound. I found the wound when I examined lower down, a huge gash in his thigh, both in front and in back, a sign that it had been a gladius thrust that had gone all the way through. The other good news was that the blade had not cut a major blood vessel, since if it had, he would have been dead by the time I found him. Telling him the news, I watched his eyes flutter in relief.