Marching With Caesar: Conquest of Gaul

by R. W. Peake

  “Do not be hurt Titus. He wanted to see you succeed, and that was his one worry.”

  I sat looking at her hand, how white and small it was, draped on my sun-dark, scarred forearm.

  I sighed, and nodded. “I know. He was right. Sometimes I know that I go too far with my boasting, but I want to be the best Legionary that’s ever lived. It’s all I think about, day and night.”

  While this was not exactly true, it was near enough, and I was surprised at myself that I was willing to utter something that I had told no one before, not even Vibius, at least since we joined the army. I looked down at the table, unwilling to meet her eyes.

  “I know,” I whispered, “it’s stupid. It’s just the bragging of a boy.”

  “Titus, there are a lot of things I think of when I think of you, but boy has never been one of them.”

  Her words hit me like I had been struck by lightning. Did this mean that she viewed me as…….something else? I looked up to see her looking me square in the eye, and she gave my forearm a squeeze.

  “There is nothing wrong with ambition, Titus. And it’s one of the things that makes you so……attractive.”

  I gulped, hard. Her eyes never left mine, and I could feel the heat that started in my face sweep through my body. I felt myself leaning forward, just as a voice in my head shouted STOP!

  Jerking my arm out from under her hand and standing quickly, I stammered, “Well, it was nice talking to you, Gisela.” Then a feeling of horror flashed through me and I tried to correct myself. “I mean…..it was nice, but under the circumstances, I mean, it was not nice. I……..” Being completely flummoxed, I finally burst out with, “I’m sorry for your loss, Gisela.”

  She sat, just looking at me, and I could not tell whether she wanted to laugh, or cry. I got up, stumbling out into the night, heading back to the camp with my mind whirling.

  The next morning, a formation was ordered for the entire army and we assembled in the forum to await Caesar. After settling down and being brought to intente, Caesar appeared from the command tent, mounting the rostra made of shields. He was dressed in his full armor, and his face was grim as he stood surveying us for several moments before he began speaking.

  “Comrades,” he began, and we could tell by the sound of his voice that this was not going to be one of his talks that left us feeling like we could conquer the world, “I must tell you how disappointed I am in your conduct yesterday.”

  His words struck the army like a massive fist, hitting us all in the gut. There was a stir in our ranks, with a low buzz of disbelief that he was including us in what happened; it was our actions that saved the rest of the army from destruction! I do not know if he was already planning what he said next, or he saw our reaction and moved quickly to disarm us. Regardless, he did so, turning towards us to hold out a placating hand.

  “In my censure, I naturally do not include you men of the 10th,” then he turned in the direction of the 13th, “or you Cohorts of the 13th who were under the command of Sextius.”

  The relief was palpable; you could see it in the posture of the men as they slumped in relief, at least as much as one can slump when standing at intente.

  “Your conduct and your actions were exemplary, and your comrades in the other Legions owe you a debt of gratitude for protecting them when they turned their backs to the enemy.”

  His last words were like the lash of a whip, whatever smug triumph we felt immediately smothered by the stricken looks on the faces of our comrades in the other Legions. There is no greater shame to a Roman Legionary than the idea of turning ones’ back to the enemy to flee, yet that is exactly what happened, and the shame was clearly written in the faces of the accused Legions.

  “However,” Caesar’s voice lightened a bit, and it was almost pathetic seeing the look of hope cross the face of these hard men, “your dishonor was not due to any lack of valor. It was due to a lack of discipline perhaps, and indeed, to an excess of fighting spirit.”

  Men’s heads lifted a bit as they listened intently to our commander’s words. It was like watching drowning men being thrown a lifeline.

  “It was never my intent to press the attack on the walls of the town,” he continued, “but in your zeal, and in your dedication to the idea of victory, you overstepped my orders. I cannot fault your courage, my comrades.”

  Just as the men sensed that perhaps this was as bad as it was going to get, the puppet master pulled one more string. His voice to that point had been what one could call soothing, but now it turned to icy, controlled anger.

  “But I can fault you for disobeying me, your general. By rights, I could order the offending Legions to be decimated,” he roared this last word, instantly followed by an audible gasp from the entire army, ourselves included, despite the fact we would not have been subject to that horrible punishment. Just as quickly, his voice returned to that of a kindly, loving but firm parent and he finished, “But that is not my wish, nor will it happen, now or ever because I am confident that my words today are enough chastisement, and that you will never disobey me again.”

  Again, a palpable sense of relief swept through the army. I heard a voice cry out from one of the offending Legions.

  “We'll never fail you again Caesar, or you can order us all to put ourselves to the sword!”

  The rest of the men roared their agreement, with Caesar allowing the demonstration to continue for a moment before he held up his hand. As if to prove their commitment to their words, the camp fell silent instantly, faster than I could ever remember when Caesar called for silence. I was close enough that I could see that ghost of a smile cross his lips, but his voice remained steady, betraying no emotion.

  “I know that you will not fail me again. And now comrades, I am going to give you a chance to redeem your honor!”

  Another roar of approbation, another gesture followed by complete silence as we all strained to hear what he was planning.

  “We are going to go out today and show Vercingetorix and his army that they have done nothing more than arouse our anger! We are going to offer them battle, and let us see if they have the courage to respond to our challenge!”

  This time, he let our roaring continue, the sound rolling out over the walls of the camp. I have no doubt that Vercingetorix and his mob heard us, and knew that we were coming for them.

  Marching out of the camp, we arrayed ourselves in our normal acies triplex with the 10th on the right, and the 13th anchoring the far left. Caesar positioned us along a roughly north/south axis, facing the gigantic hill, in the small valley between the hill on which our camp was located and Gergovia, perhaps a mile from the base of the plateau that the town sat on. And it was there we waited, through almost two full watches, daring Vercingetorix to come down and fight us, but he must have possessed some Roman blood because he did not act in the normal Gallic fashion. Indeed, he refused to face us not only that day, but the following day when we performed the same maneuver. While this action may have restored our pride to a degree, the larger situation was still deteriorating rapidly, the word of our setback at Gergovia sweeping through Gaul. In response to these developments, and truthfully, recognizing that the army at his command was not large enough to invest Gergovia, we were ordered on the march, moving back to the north. Vercingetorix, for reasons that can only be guessed at, chose not to pursue us, probably wise given the openness of the terrain we were marching over, and our mood. Moving along the Elaver River, on the third day of the march we repaired one of the damaged bridges, crossing back over to the eastern side. It was here that Caesar learned that the cunnus Litaviccus, who somehow made it to Gergovia after he fled his fellow Aedui that day, was heading back to them, leading most of the Gallic cavalry in another attempt to convince them to switch to the side of Vercingetorix. The difference this time was that it was almost a certainty that he would be successful; after all, did Vercingetorix not just prove that we were not invincible? The two men Eporedorix and Viridomarus, who helped us turned the
tide that day with Litaviccus and been marching with us ever since, now begged Caesar leave so that they could try to reason with their fellow tribesmen and convince them to remain faithful to Caesar. Who knows, perhaps they were sincere at that moment; all I know is that the next time we heard their names, they were now riding with Litaviccus instead of against him. In other words, the usual faithless Gauls.

  It was about three days after the two traitors left that the most catastrophic news to date reached the army. What one must realize is that, despite the best intentions of the officers, there are no secrets in an army. It matters not what size it is, there is no way that any piece of intelligence, orders, or especially gossip, the more salacious the better, will not be common knowledge by the lowest Gregarii less than a day later. Therefore, when word that Noviodunum was taken and sacked, the garrison of auxiliaries massacred, and all of our grain either carried off or destroyed, something close to a panic whipped through the army. Our situation had never been so grim, and we all knew it. Even men like me with the utmost faith in Caesar held serious doubts that he would be able to get us out of the dire straits in which we found ourselves. All around us, Gallic cavalry patrols were scouring the countryside, locating any supplies and either taking them or destroying them. Behind us to the south were the Arverni and the main army of Vercingetorix, still at Gergovia, at least as far as we knew. We were heading to cross the Liger River in order to reunite with Labienus and his four Legions, but the mountain snows were exceptionally heavy, making the river a torrent so that crossing it was an exercise that would take more time than we could afford. To our west, the Bituriges were thirsting for revenge for Avaricum while the Aedui, now in full revolt, had as their object pinning us between the Liger and the Elaver, then starving us into submission. Our choices were extremely limited, to put it mildly. If we were to try retreating south back to the Province, not only would it be a dangerous move because of crossing the snow-covered mountains that serve as the boundary between the Province and Gaul, we would also be essentially leaving Labienus and the four other Legions alone, cut off and surrounded by a massively numerically superior enemy. But then, Caesar received a piece of intelligence, and in that one bit of information, saw a way not only out of our present predicament, but also a way to turn the tables on the enemy once more.

  As part of Vercingetorix’s grand strategy, he gave orders that every tribe must destroy their own supplies of food, both in grain and cattle. He understood that the key to beating us was only by weakening us and the best way to do so was by starvation. Personally, I think it is something to be admired about him that he was able to convince such a fractious people as the tribes of Gaul to obey, and they all did as he commanded, despite it meaning a long, hard winter for them. All but one tribe, however, and it was this piece of news that Caesar seized upon, that the Aedui, so confident of success now that they were with Vercingetorix, saw no need to starve themselves. And as usual, he wasted no time; we were ordered to break camp within the watch that he received the news, despite the fact that it was shortly after dark and we just finished building the camp in the first place. However, we all knew that our fates were hanging in the balance, so there was no complaining at the order. Not more than a third of a watch after it was given we began to march. This was another of the very few times marching with Caesar where we did not destroy the camp, as I believe that he did not want to give the Gallic cavalry assigned to watch us any idea that something was happening. Marching through the night, we stopped for a rest only lasting two parts of the watch shortly after dawn, before picking back up and resuming our movement. Pressing on the next day, we stopped once again in the afternoon to rest, making it just around sunset when we reached the banks of the Liger, a few miles south of what remained of Noviodunum, the smoke from the town visible for the last full watch of our approach. There was no time to build a bridge, so Caesar sent his cavalry to look for a fordable part of the river, and they found one, if it could be called a ford. The only way we could get across was by the cavalry moving upstream to block the flow of water, with another line of cavalrymen downstream serving to stop any man who lost his footing from being swept away. The water was neck deep for most of the men, forcing them to hold their shield in one hand above their head, along with their pack and javelins in the other. Although I was not immersed as deeply, I was just as subject to the frigid temperature of the water, courtesy of the melted snow. Because we were one of the first Legions across, we were forced to stand, shivering and waiting for the rest of the army to cross before we resumed the march.

  The Aedui were caught so completely by surprise that they made no attempt to either try to contest our crossing, nor try to stop us from raiding their granaries and rounding up their cattle. Spending two days restocking our supply wagons, every man was issued marching rations of almost two weeks, which we had to divide between ourselves and our section’s mule. It is amazing how something as simple as knowing that there will be food to eat can so completely restore an army’s morale, and we were in a much better frame of mind when we turned to the next task, going to the aid of Labienus. He had been sent to subdue the Parisii, a tribe mainly congregated in the island town of Lutetia, yet like our part of the army, the fever of rebellion fired the ardor not just of the Parisii, but the imaginations of the non-warrior class of Gauls, and it was usually these people on whom we relied for information. So it was not a surprise when we later learned that the peasants told Labienus not only of the defeat at Gergovia, but that Caesar’s army had tried to cross the Liger and failed, so for want of supplies was now marching back to the Province, leaving Labienus and his army to worry about their own fate. Additionally, the word of Gergovia emboldened the Bellovaci, living to the northeast of Lutetia, to rise in rebellion as well, so that now Labienus had an enemy at his front and his rear. His only hope, as he saw it with the information that he possessed, was to somehow make it back to Agedincum, where there were two Legions and his supply base. However, he was on the wrong side of the river. Seeing that no matter where he tried to cross, there would be an enemy force opposing him, he decided that he might as well cross right then and there. Since I was not present at this battle, I cannot provide much detail, and Caesar has described it in his Commentaries, but it is sufficient to say that Labienus was victorious, his army fighting its way out of the trap. They marched to Agedincum, resupplied and picked up the other two Legions, then began heading south in our direction because Labienus learned the truth about Caesar and his army at Agedincum. Our two armies linked up about two days’ march south of Agedincum, where we made camp, with the word being that we would be staying put for a bit.

  Even with the joining of our armies, the situation was still extremely serious. I cannot help but think that if it were not for that flaw of character I spoke about at the fire those weeks before, we still may have been well and truly fucked. All of Gaul was now in rebellion; every tribe threw their support behind Vercingetorix, although much to our great fortune some of those tribes’ support consisted of gold and not men. All the hostages that Caesar had gathered were at Noviodunum when it fell, so we did not even have that hold on them anymore, but true to their nature, the Gauls experienced just as much trouble dealing with prosperity as they did adversity. It was through the actions of our friends the Aedui that the trouble began. The Aedui and Arverni had been rivals for a long time, much longer than they held any animosity towards Rome, or even knew of our existence for that matter. And now the Aedui sought to reassert what they saw as their true place of dominance among the Gauls, making the claim that now they were involved, the leadership of the army should go to a man of the Aedui. This caused a huge uproar, to the point where an assembly of all the tribes of Gaul was called at Bibracte. According to our spies, every tribe in Gaul sent representatives, with the exception of the Remi, Lingones and Treveri, the latter because they were dealing with incursions from the Germans from across the Rhenus. The former two tribes chose to remain aloof because they both had f
irsthand knowledge of Roman power, and were gambling that Caesar would be successful. This assembly must have been quite a sight, lasting several days, yet when the matter was finally brought to a vote, not one Gaul voted against Vercingetorix. He alone, they cried, had brought them victory against the Romans, and he alone would be their leader. The Aedui were outraged at what they perceived to be a slight and I often wondered if at that point they experienced second thoughts about turning on us, except they could not risk open disagreement in front of every other tribe. I can imagine it was with great reluctance that their representatives, none other than those two rats Eporedorix and Viridomarus, swore allegiance to Vercingetorix. As far as Vercingetorix was concerned, he was committed to continuing the strategy of attrition, using the error made by the Aedui as an example of why it was important to destroy their own supplies. Despite having more than 120,000 men at his disposal, Vercingetorix knew that it would be impossible to feed such a large host, their very size meaning that his greatest asset, his maneuverability, would be compromised. To help correct this problem, he sent 40,000 home, keeping a host of 80,000 men on foot, and 15,000 cavalry. This was the force that he would use to destroy Caesar, and us.