R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

“Pullus, you idiot. You’re too far out in front,” I recognized the roar of Pilus Prior Crastinus.

Immediately looking around in surprise, I gasped in shock at the sight. I was several feet in front of the rest of the line; my opponent was not scared, he had taken my measure. He saw I was a young, prideful fool and had drawn me out. Instantly after this recognition, I was attacked by a man to my left, who fortunately for me was armed only with a short spear instead of their usual long one. The point of his spear embedded in my shield and it was only because of my strength that I was able to wrench the spear out of his hand while keeping my shield up, despite the awkwardness of having the shaft sticking out of it. My original opponent then saw his chance, leaping at me to slash in a great, sweeping arc, trying once again to separate my head from my shoulders. Desperately parrying with my own blade, the grip that Vinicius taught us saved my life, because the momentum of his heavier blade would have knocked it from my hand if I was holding it in the standard fashion. Even so, my arm instantly went numb and I almost dropped the sword anyway. At that instant, there was a roar of rage and I sensed a blur to my right launching at the man, getting inside his guard before he could recover. There was a flash of a blade, the point punching the man in the throat to go through his neck and out the other side for an instant before being withdrawn. Even before the man wielding the sword hit the ground, I dispatched the owner of the short spear, then stepped back past the front of the line and moved to the back, wrenching the spear out of my shield as I did so.

When I passed the Pilus Prior, he caught my eye and growled, “You and I'll talk about this later.”

I gulped and answered him, continuing to the rear. There to greet me was Vibius, who said “Now we’re even.”

I looked at him in surprise. “That was you? You moved so fast I couldn’t tell who it was.”

“I’ve always been faster than you,” he shot back, then smiled at me.

Grinning back, I saluted him. “You’re right. Now we’re even.” Then we turned back to the fighting.

It took two more rotations before we finished off the last stand of the Lusitani in the town, but that did not mean the fighting was over, as hundreds of warriors melted into the town, most of them hurrying to their families. That is where they were found; in their huts, weapon in hand, determined to protect their families to the death, which is what they did. While we rested in the town square, Caesar and his command group rode up and we were called to intente , the Primi Pili giving their report to him. Once they were finished, he addressed us, sitting astride his horse.

“Comrades,” he called us, the first time that he ever did so, explaining why with his next breath, “for that is what you have become today. We have shed blood and had our own shed. Undoubtedly you will have comrades who have been killed, or may Fortuna smile, been wounded, and that is a bond that can never be broken. Today we become comrades in arms, the most precious connection any man can share, even more precious than the bonds of family. As a salute to your bravery and as a gift, I give you this town and all that is in it, to do with it as you will!”

Finishing with a sweeping flourish of his arm to indicate the expanse of the town around us, we cheered him lustily before he rode away to address the other men scattered about the town.

The Pilus Prior stepped up to bellow in his command voice, “All right boys, you heard Caesar. The town’s yours.”

Cheering that again, some did so more loudly than others, for truly, we new Gregarii had no idea what that meant. Oh, we had been told stories around the fires by the veterans, but just like battle, describing it and living it are two different things.

“Here’s how it will work,” he continued, “you new veterans,” we cheered his acknowledgement, however faint, that we were no longer mere tirones , “will follow the older men’s lead. Do what they do. And you’re going to do it,” he indicated the path we followed into the town, “in that area we just came through. You take what you can carry and that’s it. And don’t forget,” he added in warning, “that you have to clear the houses before you can take anything. You can hear that the fighting’s not over; it looks like a fair number of their warriors are still about and in the houses, so be careful. And remember, the more you leave alive, the more slaves there'll be for sale.”

With that, we were dismissed and Calienus called us together, pointing to an area, “Let’s get going before these selfish bastards take everything worth taking.”

Then he started trotting towards the huts, with the rest of us tagging behind. Vibius and I exchanged a glance, to which I shrugged. I had no idea what to expect; Cylops never talked about this aspect of war to us. I soon found out why. As often as I have done it since, the first time I participated in the sacking and destruction of a town was an experience that will never be forgotten, as much as I try. I also wish I could tell you that the troubling feelings I experienced struck me while we were doing it, yet in the heat of the moment, after facing death and dealing it out, I felt nothing but a wild exultation as I did my share of all that comes with the taking of a town and putting the inhabitants to the sword. As much as I learned of combat that day, I learned as much and more about the darkness that we all carry in our hearts, being tutored in the finer points of pillage and rape. Following Calienus into the first hut we found a family of four, with nobody to defend them, just an older woman and her three children, all of whom we killed, leaving their bodies where they fell. He showed us where people were likely to hide their valuables; under a loose stone in the hearth seems to be the most common, and how to leave no possibility, however unlikely, unexamined. As we left each hut we marked it with a symbol, etched into the doorway that designated it as being searched by our Century. It was not until the third hut that we met resistance; a warrior came screaming at Calienus as soon as he kicked in the flimsy door, but Scribonius and Romulus were standing on either side, cutting him down immediately with thrusts to the body. He collapsed yet did not die immediately, and as I stepped over him, I saw the absolute despair and anguish on his face.

“Well, well, I can see why he was so keen to fight us,” Calienus laughed, pointing to a figure huddled in the corner of the one room.

It was a young woman, obviously the man’s wife, and Calienus was right. She was a rare beauty and instantly the mood in the room changed as we all looked at her hungrily. She had raven colored hair, offsetting her smooth white skin, but even with the dirt on her face, it could not disguise the fine nose and high cheekbones, and while her eyes held fear, there was a hint of pride and disdain there that only served to inflame us further. Nobody said a word; nobody had to say what was on their mind because we were all thinking the same thing.

Finally, Scribonius spoke up, saying nervously, “Maybe we should leave her be. She’ll fetch a good price as a slave, won’t she?”

Calienus laughed again.

“That may be, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a taste first. It’s not like she’s a virgin, right? That was obviously her man we just did for, so there’s no harm in taking a sample.”

As he said this he was unbuckling his belt and harness, dropping it to the floor. The woman tried to shrink even further into the corner, it being clear to her what Calienus was about to do. Looking over his shoulder at us, he grinned, “This is one time I’m pulling rank boys. You can have a go after me, but don’t mark her up because that'll hurt her price. Got it?”