Soldier of Rome- Reign of the Tyrants

by James Mace

  “About a hundred and forty miles, give or take,” the tribune replied.

  Verginius nodded. “On paved roads, even with the rain, Vindex can make it here within a week to ten days. There are two possible roads he can take from Lugdunum, though both converge about ten miles to the west of here. I want the detachments from Legio V and Legio XVI to screen that area. We’ll also send cavalry patrols down each road to let us know when Vindex is within fifty miles.”

  Word of the siege of Vesontio reached Vindex in just a few days, by a frantic messenger arriving at Lugdunum by river barge. The large size of the imperial army became quickly known within the rebel camp, unnerving many of Vindex’s soldiers.

  “Has Verginius lost his mind?” Vindex swore, after he listened to the messenger’s feverish pleas. “If these reports are correct, that damned fool left a substantial portion of the Rhine frontier unmanned.”

  “Most likely his army is made up of vexilations from each legion,” Bradan conjectured. “Verginius may be a simple man, and not very imaginative, but he’s no fool. If he allowed so much as a single barbarian raid upon Roman lands due to his overzealousness, Nero would have his head.”

  Vindex nodded. “If we march up to meet him, it will mean leaving a sizeable force here to contain Lugdunum,” he remarked. “Which means, at most, I can send about eighty thousand to Vesontio.”

  “An imposing number,” Bradan observed. “And yet, that will only give us a two-to-one numerical advantage at best. Poor odds when one is sending lightly-equipped militia against fully armored legionaries.”

  Though he would not say so openly, Vindex knew he’d underestimated what the imperial army would send into Gaul. He had anticipated perhaps two legions’ worth of soldiers. Instead, Verginius had uprooted forty thousand men from the frontier. Even if Nero did not take the rebellion seriously, the governor-general of Upper Germania certainly did. Vindex now feared he may have underestimated Verginius’ loyalty to Nero, as well as his military pragmatism.

  “No,” he corrected himself, shaking his head, finding his resolve once more. “This is not lost. Verginius may be marching towards us with the better part of the Rhine army, but I refuse to believe his fealty to that despot in Rome is that strong. I will take our army and head north to meet him. But I will only fight him if I have no other option. I still believe that Verginius can be reasoned with. Take heart, my friend. It may seem like I am leading our men towards disaster. But if all goes well, we will add forty thousand imperial soldiers to our ranks!”

  Another week passed, and still the gates to Vesontio remained shut. Legionaries bickered amongst each other, speculating as to why they had not yet assaulted the walls. Sharp words, along with a few select blows from the vine sticks of their centurions, reminded them it was not the place of legionaries to speculate as to the ‘why’ of anything. Soon, however, General Verginius’ patience paid off.

  “Vindex’s army approaches from the southwest,” a scout reported. “They have made camp near the village of Grozon.”

  “As I expected,” the general said, slapping his hand down on the table. “We’ll bring in our vexilations at the crossroads and make ready to face them south of the bridge.”

  “How large would you say his army is?” General Claudius asked the scout.

  “It’s hard to say, sir,” the man replied. “We only caught sight of them at night, after they established their camp. But if the enemy really do have a hundred thousand men under arms, then he’s only brought a section of that with him.”

  “Think he would have left most of his army at Lugdunum?” Claudius asked Verginius.

  “I doubt it,” the general replied. “He’s probably left a residual force, but he will have brought most of his army with him. This tells me the size of his force was greatly exaggerated, or many of them deserted once they saw there would be real fighting ahead.”

  It would be another two days before Vindex reached the main crossroads ten miles east of Vesontio. All the while, imperial scouts rode just out of reach of his column, gathering intelligence for General Verginius. By the time the rebels encamped just west of the city, it had been ascertained that Vindex had no more than thirty thousand men with him. He was not only ill-equipped and at a tactical terrain disadvantage, he was outnumbered as well.

  That evening the commanding legates, along with their chief tribunes and master centurions, stood atop the ridge from which they could see the whole of the rebel forces.

  “There is no way Vindex means to fight,” Verginius emphasized. “Not with that for an army.”

  “I’m curious to know what his negotiating terms will be,” Claudius said, with a scoffing grin.

  “It looks like you’ll get to find out soon enough, sir,” a tribune said, nodding his head towards the road below, where a line rider was seen crossing the bridge.

  Within minutes, the rider reached the Rhine army’s encampment, carrying a flag of truce.

  “General Vindex requests parlay,” the messenger explained. “He does not wish to see his people’s blood spilled any more than you do.”

  “There is nothing to negotiate,” Claudius retorted. “Julius Vindex has committed treason, and he will answer for it. His army is to disperse at once, but not before they hand him over to us for trial.”

  “Hold, friend,” Verginius said, placing a hand on the legate’s shoulder. He then spoke to the messenger. “Tell Vindex I will meet with him, alone, in the glade just east of the city. He has my word as a fellow Roman officer, he will be allowed to pass by my army’s camp unharmed.”

  The messenger nodded and remounted his horse.

  Claudius looked aghast. “You mean to parlay with the damned traitor after all,” he said, his voice rising.

  “If I can compel him to willingly surrender, we can save a lot of lives,” Verginius retorted. “I’ll promise to recommend he and his family go into exile, if he surrenders unconditionally. He has to know his life is forfeit otherwise. These are Roman citizens and provincials, general. They have grievances, many of them legitimate.”

  “That may be so, but it is not our place to act as legislators in this matter, any more than it was for them to take up arms in rebellion!”

  Though he was arguing against him, Verginius noted this was Claudius’ first acknowledgement of any legitimacy regarding the cause of the rebellion.

  “Agreed,” Verginius acknowledged. “And while they have taken up arms, no cities have been sacked, no innocent lives lost. I’ll not attack these people unless they give me no other option.”

  Claudius’ face was red with anger, but he said no more and simply nodded. Though a fellow senator and legate, he was still subordinate to Verginius, who bore both the authority and the responsibility for what would transpire.

  “You’ve been right so far, sir,” the legate acknowledged. “I hope with whatever transpires between you and Vindex, tonight we put this rebellion to an end.”

  It was late in the day when Julius Vindex crossed over the bridge and rode just beneath the ridge, paralleling the Roman army’s encampment. True to his word, Verginius had withdrawn all pickets, and the only imperial soldiers Vindex could see were the occasional sentries atop the palisades. Just beyond the boundaries of the camp and to his left, with the city of Vesontio behind him, he spotted the open glade. On the far side, alone, was General Verginius Rufus.

  There was an awkward silence, as the opposing commanders rode slowly towards each other. Vindex, though leading an army of Gallic militia, was dressed as a Roman general. His crested helmet, polished muscle cuirass, and deep red cloak matched the style worn by Verginius. Approximately twenty paces apart, each man brought his horse to a halt and slowly dismounted.

  “I think,” Vindex said slowly, “that we should each lay down our weapons, before we parlay.”

  “We are both here under a flag of truce,” Verginius replied. “Our honor as Roman patricians should alleviate any fears of treachery. However, if it will put your mind at ease,
I will disarm.” He then unstrapped his sword baldric and hung his weapon off the pommel on his horse’s saddle

  Vindex followed suit, and the two men stepped towards each other, both removing their helmets.

  “You know why I have come,” Vindex said. “And you also know why I have raised the banner of revolution.”

  “I understand that you have raised the banner of treason against the empire,” Verginius calmly replied.

  “No,” Vindex said, with a shake of his head. “I do not rebel against Rome but against the emperor.”

  “The emperor is Rome,” the Rhine commander retorted. “All of us swore an oath to serve Emperor Nero. You, sir, have broken that oath, and thereby forfeited your life. However, I may be able to save it, if you will surrender immediately and without conditions.”

  “I am aware of what I may have forfeited in the eyes of the monster,” Vindex quickly stated. “I also know that you are sympathetic, or at least intrigued, by my motives. Otherwise, you never would have agreed to this meeting. You have me outnumbered and out-armed. You could have easily unleashed your legions upon me and been done with it, but you didn’t.”

  “Perhaps I do not wish to see so many of our countrymen bleed for no reason,” Verginius countered.

  “Perhaps,” the rebel commander admitted. He smiled. “I do not think that is the case, though. You and I both know that Nero will never agree to allow me and my family to live in exile. His predecessor, the divine Claudius, may have been willing to show clemency to his enemies, but Nero is devoid of any sense of mercy.”

  “Then what do you hope to gain from this meeting?” Verginius asked. “You know you are finished. You cannot win, and you know the emperor will not spare your life. So what is it you want from me?”

  “An ally,” Vindex said plainly. “Surely your province has felt the financial burdens of Nero’s latest round of oppressive taxation, to say nothing of his looting from the temples during the past year. The emperor is losing his grip over the provinces. They are bitter about paying for Rome’s rebuilding and Nero’s ostentatious vanity projects. And resentment aside, it is bankrupting the empire. You know this, and you understand the people have grievances that must be addressed. Otherwise, you never would have agreed to meet with me.”

  “You presume much,” Verginius said, though his voice lacked conviction. He thought for a moment before adding, “What is it you propose? That we unite our forces and march on Rome?”

  “That is exactly what I am proposing,” Vindex stated with emphasis. “And once we are rid of Nero, we must decide who is worthiest of taking the throne. Unlike the praetorians, who were able to murder Caligula and name his uncle, Claudius, emperor, Nero has no family left. If we do not present Rome with an heir, there will be anarchy and civil war. We need a candidate from one of the old families, one the people will unite behind.”

  “You speak of Servius Galba,” Verginius noted. “After all, he is supporting your little venture.”

  “He is one possibility,” Vindex acknowledged. “The people will soon know, if they don’t already, that Nero has lost the support of one of our oldest and noblest families.” He then shrugged and gave his adversary another scenario. “But if Galba will not offer to become Caesar, then perhaps you can.”

  Verginius swallowed hard while contemplating his answer. He had quietly suspected what Vindex would propose, though the very idea was overwhelming. He knew what the rebel leader said was true, and he was wise enough to realize that the status quo could not continue for much longer. Verginius’ army could easily crush Vindex’s, but the cracks within the pillars of support for Nero would only continue to grow. And if open rebellion had already spread from Gaul to Hispania, Germania was most likely next.

  “I’m no traitor,” he said at last. “My loyalty is to Rome.” His emphasis on this last word told Vindex that his presumptions were at least partially correct.

  “As is mine,” Vindex said earnestly. “Let us not spill the blood of our brother Romans, but let us march together on the right side of history and usher in a new age for the empire!”

  “Bring your army to Vesontio,” Verginius said, his composure much calmer than Vindex’s. “Have them march into the city and reassure the populace we mean them no harm. From there, we will decide the fate of our empire.”

  Vindex gave a broad grin and donned his helmet once more. He mounted his horse, gave a salute to Verginius, and rode with all haste back towards the bridge.

  It would prove to be Vindex’s misfortune that he returned to his army much faster than Verginius. The commanding general of the Rhine army had much to ponder. He stopped in a small stand of trees to sit and think about how he should proceed. He had just implicitly given his support to the very people he had been sent to destroy. His soldiers would, of course, be livid, for they had been craving battle ever since they left Mogontiacum. Fortunately, the legionaries were still fiercely loyal to Verginius, and though there would be many vocal complaints, and perhaps a few disciplinary lashings, the legions as a whole would respect his decision.

  Lucius Verginius Rufus realized unless he tread very cautiously, he, too, would be implicated for treason. Diplomacy and careful negotiations would be even more important than the might of his army...or so it would have been, had his brief delay not unraveled everything.

  “The enemy are advancing, sir!” a cavalry trooper shouted as he rode up to General Claudius.

  “Then we shall meet them,” the legate replied. Verginius had yet to return, and Claudius knew he had to act soon, lest the rebel army gain the initiative. He turned to his cornicen. “Sound the call to arms! Make ready the legions!”

  As Verginius had decided to tell no one about his intentions until after he met with Vindex, Claudius and the other officers could only assume the talks had failed.

  “They’re not coming at us,” a centurion noted. “It looks as if they intend to occupy the city.”

  “We’ll slaughter the lot of them, before they even reach the gates,” the legate growled.

  With the possibility of battle imminent, both legionary and auxiliary trooper alike had remained in their armor with their weapons close by, even as they sat down for supper. The unmistakable sound of the call to arms from the cornicens sent forty thousand men into a frenzy of activity. Most of the auxiliaries rushed out of the western gate of the camp with the intent of cutting off the enemy’s avenue of escape via the bridge. Legionaries hurried through either the eastern or northern entrances, from which they would attack the rebels from both the front and flank. The woods, as well as the ridgeline, gave them much concealment. The only thing that could have betrayed their intentions to the enemy was the sounding of the cornicens’ horns.

  Verginius heard the rapid blasts from the trumpeters in the distance. He recognized the urgent call for the legions to make ready for battle, and he immediately panicked. He suddenly realized the folly of his delay. Vindex was bringing his men forward. With no orders to tell them otherwise, the Rhine army would perceive this as a threat and act accordingly. The commanding general spurred his horse into a full gallop, clods of mud kicking up in his wake as he raced back to his army. By the time he rode through the eastern entrance to the camp, General Claudius had committed the army to battle. His own Legio IV, Macedonia, was already down the hill, looking to cut off Vindex’s army on the right.

  While Verginius knew the meaning of the trumpet calls, neither Julius Vindex nor anyone in his army understood what it meant. It could have been anything from an officers’ call to an order to change the guard. Still, the frenzy of the blasts had been a little unnerving, as his army hurriedly crossed the bridge and made for the Vesontio gates, Vindex knew the only way out was straight ahead.

  He rode at the head of his force, though what he could not see were the thousands of legionaries who were now rushing through the woods off to his right, thereby flanking his army. As they reached the open plain with the gates less than a half mile away, he spotted the painted sh
ields and gleaming armor of the imperial legions. A series of trumpet blasts followed, and the rebel leader could see cohorts of soldiers, who had once been in column, quickly reforming into battle lines.

  Panicked shouts were echoed down his enormous march column, as swarms of auxilia infantry cohorts charged into their rear flank. The Gallic militias were caught completely unawares, and had little to no time to react before many of their friends were savagely cut down by auxilia stabbing spears and gladii. A handful of those still closest to the bridge managed to flee back across before an entire cohort of auxiliaries barred the passage with a wall of shields and spears. Screams were heard from the city of Vesontio, as onlookers on the walls witnessed what was quickly turning into a slaughter.

  Vindex gritted his teeth as the legionaries to his front, now in battle lines of four to six ranks, advanced quickly towards the head of his column. His own men, without waiting for orders, made ready to defend themselves, all the while shouting a host of curses and lamentations for being betrayed. Knowing that they were now completely cut off, they frantically tried to form into battle lines of their own.

  “Get behind us, sir!” one of his subordinate captains shouted.

  Vindex was transfixed on the onrushing wall of armored legionaries, and could only shake his head in dismay. Whether Verginius had betrayed him or simply lost control of his legions, it mattered not.

  Salvos of javelins cut large swaths through the ranks of the rebel army. The surviving fighters, unskilled and inexperienced in actual combat, were broken even before the wall of legionaries smashed into them. Shields smashed, while gladii stabbed without mercy. Bloodied corpses and mangled wounded soon littered the field.