Julius ordered the last two spears his men carried to be thrown blind. On the flat ground, many of them were sent back as fast as they were thrown, but the soft iron heads had bent on impact and they flew poorly, with little strength. Julius saw a man only feet from him reach up to bat one away as it spun at him and Julius heard his arm crack. He began to realize the Helvetii would fight to the last man and summoned the most senior of the Ariminum generals to him.
General Bericus arrived looking calm and fresh, as if they were engaged in nothing more difficult than a training maneuver.
“General,” Julius said, “I want you to take a thousand men and attack the column behind us.”
Bericus stood slightly stiffer at the order. “Sir, I do not believe them to be a threat. I saw only women and children as we passed.”
Julius nodded, wondering if he would regret having such a decent man leading his soldiers.
“Those are my orders, General. However, you have my permission to make as much noise as you can during the disengage.”
For a moment, Bericus looked blank, then his lips twitched in understanding.
“We’ll shout like maniacs, sir,” he said, saluting.
Julius watched him go and called a messenger to him.
“Tell the extraordinarii they are free to attack as they see fit,” he said.
As soon as Bericus reached his lines, Julius saw them shift as the commands were passed down the chain of authority. In only a short while, two cohorts had detached from the battle and their places in the lines were filled. Julius heard them roar as they turned and began a deliberate march back to attack the column. Bericus had taken horns with him and the cornicens kept up a constant racket until there was not a man on the plain who was not aware of the threat they posed.
At first, the warriors of the Helvetii fought with renewed energy, but the extraordinarii had resumed their scything strikes on the wing and Roman discipline held the wild charges of the tribesmen. Suddenly they were despairing, dreading the sight of the legion lines cutting into the naked column.
A distant cheer went up and Julius craned to see the cause. He ordered the maniples to rotate the velites back to the front and went with them, gasping with weariness. How long had they been fighting? The sun seemed to have frozen overhead.
The cheering intensified on the left wing, but though it brought him hope, Julius found himself faced with two men who were using their shields to batter the Roman line. He had a glimpse of a mouth ringed in white spittle before he lunged forward and felt his gladius sink into flesh. The first fell screaming and Mark Antony cut his throat as they marched over him. The second was knocked from his feet by a legionary and Julius heard his ribs crack as the soldier dropped his weight onto a knee, caving in the chest. As the legionary stood, the Helvetii threw down their weapons in a great crash that stunned the ears and stood, panting and dazed. Julius ordered the halt with grim pleasure and looked back over the plain to the mass of bodies left behind them. There was more flesh than grass and only the two Roman cohorts moved over the red ground.
A great low wail went up from the column of followers as they saw the surrender, and again Julius heard cheering, recognizing it now as the voices of the Tenth and Third. Julius took the bronze horn from the nearest cornicen and blew a falling note to stop Bericus before he could begin his attack. They halted in perfect formation as the sound carried to them, and Julius smiled. Whatever else went against him, he could not complain at the quality of the legions he commanded.
Julius paused then, removing his helmet and turning his face into the breeze. He sent the call for centurions and optios to gather the men back into their units. It had to be done quickly and sometimes brutally, if the surrender was to hold. Army tradition held that the slave price of captured enemy soldiers would be shared between the legions, which tended to prevent massacres of those who surrendered. Yet in the battle rage, Julius knew many of his legionaries would think nothing of cutting down an unarmed foe, especially if that man had just wounded them. Julius had the cornicens sound the halt over and over until it penetrated and some semblance of order began to come back to the plain.
Spears and swords were collected and removed from the battlefield, guarded by the extraordinarii as they reassembled. The Helvetii warriors were made to kneel and had their arms tied behind them. Those who asked were given water by the same boys who served the legions, and Julius began to gather them into lines of prisoners, moving amongst his men, congratulating where it was due and simply being seen.
The legionaries walked with stiff pride as they surveyed the numbers of prisoners and dead. They knew they had beaten a far larger force, and Julius was pleased to see one of his men calling a water boy over to a bound warrior, holding the bronze pipe to his lips for him.
As Julius passed through them, assessing the losses, the Romans stared in the hope of catching his eye, and when they were successful they nodded as respectfully as children.
Brutus came cantering up on a horse he had found, its rider amongst the dead.
“What a victory, Julius!” he called, leaping from the saddle.
The soldiers around him gestured and whispered to each other as they recognized his silver armor, and Julius grinned at the awe in their faces. He had thought wearing the silver into battle was dangerous, given that the metal was so much softer than good iron, but Brutus had kept it, saying it raised the men’s spirits to fight with the best of a generation.
Julius chuckled at the memory.
“I was pleased to see you on the plain. I can’t tell you,” Brutus said.
Julius looked sharply at him, sensing the question. A smile played about his lips as he called for the scout to be summoned, and Brutus raised his eyebrows when he saw the miserable Roman with his hands tied as tightly as the prisoners. The young man had been forced to march with the legions, an optio’s staff thudding into his back every time he slowed. Julius was pleased he had survived, and with the glow of victory on him, he decided against having the man whipped as he almost certainly deserved.
“Untie him,” Julius said to the scout’s optio, who did so with a swift jerk of a knife. The scout looked as if he was close to tears as he struggled to stand to attention before his general and the winner of the sword tournament in Rome.
“This young gentleman brought me a report that the enemy had taken the hill I ordered you to climb. In the darkness, he mistook two good Roman legions for a mass of tribesmen.”
Brutus broke into a guffaw of delighted amusement. “You didn’t fall back? Julius, that is . . .” He broke off to laugh and Julius turned a mock severe expression on the desolate young scout.
“Have you any idea how difficult it is to build a reputation as a tactical genius if I am seen retreating from my own men?” he asked.
“I am sorry, sir. I thought I heard Gaulish voices,” the scout stammered. He was flushed with confusion.
“Yes, that would have been my lot,” Brutus said cheerfully. “That is why you carry a password, son. You should have called before haring home.”
The young scout began to smile in response and Brutus’s expression changed instantly.
“Of course, if you’d delayed the attack much longer, I would be taking a skinning knife to you.”
The sickly grin died on the scout’s face.
“Three months’ pay docked and you scout on foot until your optio is certain you can be trusted with a horse,” Julius added.
The young man breathed out in relief, not daring to look at Brutus as he saluted and left. Julius turned to Brutus and they shared a smile.
“It was a good plan,” Brutus said.
Julius nodded, calling for a horse. As he mounted, he looked over the battlefield, seeing the beginnings of order return as Roman wounds were stitched and splinted and bodies readied for funeral pyres. He would have the worst of the wounded taken back to the Roman province for treatment. The armor of those who had died would be sold off for replacements. The gaps left b
y dead officers would be filled by promotions from the ranks, signed by his hand. The world was turning the right way up and the heat of the day was beginning to fade.
CHAPTER 24
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Julius sat on a folding stool in the great tent of the Helvetii king and drank from a golden cup. The mood was light amongst the men he had summoned. The Ariminum generals in particular had been drinking heavily from the king’s private stores, and Julius had not stopped them. They had earned the right to rest, though the work ahead was still daunting. Julius had not appreciated at first how large a task it would be simply to catalogue the baggage, and the night was loud with the sound of soldiers counting and piling the Helvetii possessions. He had sent Publius Crassus with four cohorts to begin retrieving spears and weapons from the battlefield. It was not a glorious task, but the son of the former consul had gathered his men quickly and without fuss, showing something of his father’s ability for organization.
By the time the sun was edging toward the far west, the spear shafts of the Tenth and Third had been returned to them. Many of the heavy iron heads were twisted into uselessness, but Crassus had filled Helvetii carts with them, ready to be repaired or melted down by the legion smiths. By a twist of fate, one of the cohorts had been commanded by Germinius Cato, promoted after Spain. Julius wondered if the two men ever considered the enmity of their fathers behind their polite salutes.
“Enough grain and dried meat to feed us for months, if it doesn’t spoil,” Domitius said with satisfaction. “The weapons alone are worth a small fortune, Julius. Some of the swords are good iron, and even the bronze ones have hilts worth keeping.”
“Any coin?” Julius asked, eyeing the cup in his hand.
Renius opened a sack at his feet and brought out a few rough-looking disks.
“What passes for it here,” he said. “A silver and copper mix. Hardly worth anything, though there are chests of them.” Julius took one and held it up to the lamp. The circle of tarnished metal had a piece cut out of it, reaching right to the middle.
“A strange thing. Looks like a bird on the face, though with that slice out of it, I can’t be sure.”
The night breeze came into the tent with Brutus and Mark Antony.
“Are you calling the council, Julius?” Brutus asked. Julius nodded and Brutus put his head back out of the flap, shouting for Ciro and Octavian to join them.
“Are the prisoners secure?” Renius asked Brutus.
Mark Antony answered. “The men are tied, but we don’t have nearly enough soldiers to stop the rest of them from leaving in the night if they want to.” He noticed the sack of coins and picked one up.
“Hand stamped?” Julius asked as he saw his interest.
Mark Antony nodded. “This one is, though the larger towns can produce coins as good as anything you’ll see in Rome. Their metalwork is often very beautiful.” He dropped the coin back into Renius’s outstretched palm. “Not these, though. Quite inferior.”
Julius indicated stools for the two men and they accepted the dark wine in the cups from the king’s private hoard.
Mark Antony tilted his up and gasped with satisfaction. “The wine, however, is not inferior at all. Have you thought what you will do with the rest of the Helvetii? I have a couple of suggestions, if you will allow me.”
Renius cleared his throat. “Like it or not, we’re responsible for them now. The Aedui will kill them all if they go south without their warriors.”
“That is the problem,” Julius said, rubbing tiredness from his eyes. “Or rather this is.” He hefted a heavy roll of skin parchment and showed them the leading edge, marked with tiny characters.
“Adàn says it is a list of their people. It took him hours just to get an estimate.”
“How many?” Mark Antony asked. They all looked to Julius, waiting.
“Ninety thousand men of fighting age, three times that amount in women, children, and the elderly.”
The numbers awed them all. Octavian spoke first, his eyes wide.
“And how many men did we capture?”
“Perhaps twenty thousand,” Julius replied. He kept his face still as the rest of them broke into amazed laughter, clapping each other on the back.
Octavian whistled. “Seventy thousand dead. We killed a city.”
His words sobered the others as they thought of the mounds of dead on the plain and on the hill.
“And our own dead?” Renius asked.
Julius recited the figures without a pause. “Eight hundred legionaries with twenty-four officers amongst them. Perhaps the same again in wounded. Many of those will fight again once we’ve stitched them.”
Renius shook his head in amazement. “It is a good price.”
“May it always be so,” Julius said, raising the king’s cup. The others drank with him.
“But we still have a quarter of a million people on our hands,” Mark Antony pointed out. “And we are exposed on this plain, with the Aedui coming up fast to share in the plunder. Do not doubt it, gentlemen. By noon tomorrow, there will be another army claiming a part of the riches of the Helvetii.”
“Ours, by right, such as they are,” Renius replied. “I haven’t seen much in the way of actual riches apart from these cups.”
“No, there may be something in cutting them a share,” Julius said thoughtfully. “They lost a village and the battle took place on their land. We need allies amongst these people and Mhorbaine has influence.” He turned to Bericus, still in his blood-spattered armor.
“General, have your men take a tenth part of everything we have found here. Keep it safe under guard for the Aedui.”
Bericus rose and saluted. Like the others, he was pale with weariness, but he left the tent quickly and they all heard his voice growing in strength as it snapped out orders in the darkness.
“So what are you going to do with the prisoners?” Brutus asked.
“Rome needs slaves,” Julius replied. “Though the price will plunge, we must have funds for this campaign. At the moment, coins like this one are the only wealth we have. There is no silver to pay the Tenth and Third, and six legions eat their way through a fortune each month. Our soldiers know the slave price of captured soldiers comes to them, and many are already discussing their new wealth.”
Mark Antony looked a little stiff at hearing this. His own legion received their pay directly from Rome, and he had assumed it was the same for the others.
“I did not realize . . .” he began, then paused. “May I speak?”
Julius nodded. Mark Antony held out his own cup to Brutus, who ignored him.
“If you sell the tribe back in Rome, the lands of the Helvetii will remain empty, right up to the Rhine. There are Germanic tribes there who would be only too willing to cross and occupy undefended land. The Gauls revere strong warriors, but they have nothing good to say about the men across the river. You would not want them on the borders of the Roman province.”
“We could take that land ourselves,” Brutus broke in.
Mark Antony shook his head. “If we left a few legions there to guard the Rhine banks, we would lose half our force for no good end. The land is worthless ash at present. Food would have to be brought in until the fields could be cleared and resown, and then who would work them? Our legionaries? No, it is far better to send the Helvetii back to their own country. Let them guard the north for us. They have more to lose, after all.”
“Would they not be overrun by these savage tribes you mentioned?” Julius asked.
“They have twenty thousand warriors left to them. No small number, and more importantly, they will fight to the death to repel any new invader. They have seen what legions can do, and if they can’t migrate south, they must stay and fight for their fields and homes. More wine here, Brutus.”
Brutus looked at Mark Antony with dislike as the man held out his cup again, apparently unaware of the first refusal.
“Very well,” Julius said. “Though the men won’
t be pleased, we will leave the Helvetii enough food to go home, taking the rest for ourselves. I will arm one in ten so that they may protect their people. Everything else comes back with us, bar the share for the Aedui. Thank you, Mark Antony. It is good advice.”
Julius looked around at the men in the tent. “I will tell Rome what we achieved here. My scribe is copying the reports as we speak. Now, I hope you are not tired, because I want that column moving home by first light.” There was a barely audible groan from them, and Julius smiled.
“We will stay to hand over their portion to the Aedui, and then an easy march back to the province, arriving the day after tomorrow.” He yawned, setting off one or two of the others. “Then we can sleep.” He rose to his feet and they stood with him. “Come on, the night is short enough in summer.”
The following day gave Julius a more than grudging respect for the organizational skills of the Helvetii. Just getting so many people ready to move was difficult enough, but weighing out enough food to keep them alive for the march home took many hours. The Tenth was given the task and soon long lines stretched out to the soldiers with their measuring cups and sacks, doling out the supplies to each surviving member of the tribe.
The Helvetii were still stunned by their sudden reversal of fortunes. Those of the Aedui they had taken as prisoners had to be forcibly separated after two stabbings in the morning. The Aedui women had taken revenge on their captors with a viciousness that appalled even hardened soldiers. Julius ordered two of them hanged and there were no more such incidents.
The army of the Aedui appeared out of the tree line before noon, when Julius was wondering if they were ever going to get the huge column moving. Seeing them in the distance, Julius sent a scout out to them with a one-word message: “Wait.” He knew the chaos could only be increased with several thousand angry fighters itching to attack a beaten enemy. To help their patience, after an hour Julius followed the message with a train of oxen, bearing Helvetii weapons and valuables. The prisoners he had liberated were sent with them, and Julius was pleased to have them off his hands. He had been generous with the Aedui, though Mark Antony told him they would assume he kept the best pieces for himself, no matter what he sent them. In fact, he had kept back the gold cups, splitting them between the generals of his legions.
The Field of Swords Page 26
