R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

“Shut your mouth,” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You know the rules, and you knew what would happen if you were caught.”

Atilius said no more.

The business of entering his crime in the Legion diary done, I returned Atilius to begin work, my anger at him still far outweighing any pity I felt for him, because now it was my job to make sure the punishment was carried out in the proper manner. That meant that I had to watch Atilius at all times during our off duty time to make sure his tentmates¸ my closest friends, did not sneak him any of their rations. If they did and were caught they would have to join Atilius, and if that happened, it would be because I was the one who caught them. It was this thought that occupied my mind as I watched Atilius shamble over to his comrades, Vellusius handing him a spade and saying a quiet word. As he did so he glanced over his shoulder, saw me staring at him, so he looked quickly away, guilt written plainly on his face. I could only hope that my catching him stopped him from doing something stupid.

“Are you all right?” The quiet voice of the Pilus Prior startled me, and I turned to see him looking at me, his concern plain to see. I was somewhat taken aback, not sure what to say.

“This is your first time to punish one of your tentmates, isn’t it?”

I nodded, still not speaking. This did not seem to bother the Pilus Prior, who continued talking quietly so the rest of the men could not hear. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t get any easier,” I was not sure if he was trying to make me feel better, but he was not doing a good job. “But hopefully, what'll happen is that the rest of them will know that you’ll do what’s necessary, and they’ll watch themselves and each other more closely.”

I could only hope this to be true, yet I was glad the Pilus Prior had at least said something.

Work continued despite the hardships, with our situation now exceedingly desperate, and it was because of these straits we were in that Atilius was saved. He did well enough the first day; the second day he was in morning formation and made it through a full day of work, but all of us could plainly see that if he was able to rise out of his cot the next morning, it would be a miracle, a short-lived one at that. His face was pinched, his eyes hollow, burning holes in his face as he stared out at the world and despite my anger with him, I found my stomach turning in knots at the sight. Then there was a miracle of sorts, formed out of our desperate situation. At the end of the second day of Atilius’ punishment, as Vellusius and Scribonius walked on either side of him to help him stay erect, technically a violation of the rules regarding his punishment but one I overlooked, the Pilus Prior and the other Centurions were ordered to the forum for a meeting with Caesar. When Pulcher came back, I was puzzled by his expression. While he looked grim, there was a look in his eye that told me that not all the news was bad.

“We’re going on half-rations in the morning,” he told me. I nodded, this having been expected. What was not expected was what he said next. “And Caesar has decreed that all men on punishment are hereby forgiven, and their punishment is rescinded. Atilius can begin eating again.”

He smiled as I grinned back, genuinely pleased at this development, despite what some might view as the slackening of discipline. Do not mistake me; I am a firm believer in the need for discipline in the army, and I have accepted the rules and regulations as the manner in which I live my life, yet none of us want to watch men we consider friends suffer, and this was one of those occasions where the gods smiled on Atilius, despite the fact that the rest of us would have to tighten our belts, literally.

Three days later, we were put on quarter rations. Things had never been this bad, as now even the strongest men, myself included, began feeling the effects of slow starvation. Accordingly, the pace of our work slowed; it was now the eighteenth day of the siege, and it was during that day, about noon, when Caesar appeared among us, moving from one Legion to another. Before we knew what was happening, he joined us, a quick formation being ordered a short distance away from our worksite. Despite moving as quickly as we could, even under the eyes of Caesar our weakness was apparent in the lethargy of our movement. We were sluggish in everything but our minds; in the moment we thought we were moving as quickly as we always did, but it was clear that this was an illusion. Once we were settled and at i ntente ¸ we were ordered to stand at ease, and for a moment Caesar said nothing, just gazing at us sadly.

“Comrades,” he finally began, “I cannot bear to see you suffering in this manner any longer. You have made my heart swell with pride at the way you have continued in your duties, despite the incredible hardships you are facing. But you are as my children are to me, and I can no longer bear the sight of your suffering.”

We began to stir uneasily, stealing glances at one another. Catching the eye of the Pilus Prior, he just shrugged, shaking his head to tell me that he had no idea of what was happening.

“Therefore,” Caesar continued after a pause, “I have decided that we are going to lift the siege. We will march back to Agedincum, where we will resupply and regain our strength.”

For a moment, there was complete silence as our benumbed brains tried to comprehend what he had just said. Then, somewhere towards the rear of the formation, then quickly sweeping forward, began what started out as a low moan but just as quickly grew into a roar of protest. Looking around, I was slightly bewildered, thinking that this news would be greeted with much joy and approbation, but I was wrong. Over the mumbling roar, a voice rang out, again from the rear of the formation.

“No, Caesar! Please don’t give that order! We won’t let you down, we swear it!”

This triggered a flood of similar shouts, and now the scene was one of utter chaos, men beginning to openly beseech Caesar to change his mind. At that moment, I was watching Caesar closely and with more exposure to him than most of my comrades, I was more familiar with his countenance, so I swear even to this day that I saw the ghost of a smile flash across his face, as if he was actually getting what he wanted. Instantly, it was replaced by a look of astonishment, then he held his hands out to the formation, signaling them to quiet down, which took a few moments. Finally, when he could be heard again, Caesar gave a great sigh, shaking his head as he announced, “Very well, comrades. I fear that I am making a grave mistake, but your valor and fortitude have humbled me. I am ashamed that I made such a suggestion.”

Immediately after these words, his head shot back up erect, and we were once again faced with the commander who led us to so many victories, his face a study in cold determination as he finished, “We will stay here and finish what we started, and as always, I will count on the 10th to lead the way.”

He said something else, which was completely drowned out by the cheers. Glancing up as the noise swelled and rolled over us to see Gauls standing on the wall watching what was taking place, even from this distance, I could see their bodies slump in defeat at the sounds of our cheering. It was not until later that night when we were back in camp that we learned that Caesar had made the same speech to every Legion, and gotten the same response. I could not help but shake my head in admiration for the man; he knew how to play us like a Greek plays the flute.

The tactics of Vercingetorix were not having an effect on just us; even the enemy was feeling the pinch of hunger. As we were nearing the completion of our work at Avaricum, Vercingetorix moved his army closer to us, and according to some prisoners, then left the infantry behind in his camp while bringing his cavalry closer to try to inflict more damage on our foraging parties, along with finding forage for his own army. Caesar decided to seize the opportunity and risk ending the rebellion in one stroke by stealing a march to attack the bulk of the Gallic army while their leader was absent. The location of the camp was about ten miles to the northeast, and the 10th, 9th and 8th were given orders to prepare to march at midnight. In order to keep from alerting the Gauls in Avaricum that something was in the air, we were kept at our job of constructing the ramp, so that we were especially tired when we marched quietly out of camp. I suspect that is why Caesar chose his Spanish Legions, knowing that we were hardened enough to be able to handle this added strain, albeit not without difficulty. Traveling light, without artillery or other baggage, it enabled us to close the distance rapidly, despite having to stop numerous times either to rest or when we ran into Vercingetorix’s patrols. Our German cavalry accompanied us, and even in our limited time with them, we respected them more than we ever did our normal Gallic cavalry. Arriving just short of the enemy camp immediately after first light, we saw that it was on a small hill, surrounded on all sides by extremely swampy ground, with what looked like two causeways that gave access to the hill through the morass. In the growing light, we could see that the enemy had destroyed the causeways, making the only way of assaulting the hill by wading through the swamp while under fire from their missile troops. This was one of the few times I saw Caesar in a state of seeming indecision, as we stood there for almost a third of a watch while he seemingly was making up his mind on what to do. Presently, a meeting was called for all the officers, Optios included, and we moved to Caesar’s standard. He was standing there, waiting for us to assemble, and once we were all present, he spoke.