R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

“He’s the only one getting rich,” Vibius grumbled, and I must admit I was surprised, at least at first, that Vibius spoke in this manner. Before this moment, he had uttered nothing but good things about Caesar as a general and as a man. This was the first time I could remember where he said something critical, though it was not going to be the last, something I would find out much to my dismay.

“He uses his skills as an orator to talk them out of putting up a fight, just so he can keep all the money,” Vibius continued, and just when I was prepared to argue the point I could see that most of my tentmates agreed with him, or at least seemed to since they were all nodding their heads. Accordingly, I kept my mouth shut and held my own counsel, except the way I saw it, he was keeping us alive. What was the sense in wearing us down when we all knew that the further north we went, the worse the terrain and the more vicious the enemy? Still, I have to admit that I was beginning to get a little itchy myself for something to break the monotony of what we had been doing. Despite there being numerous skirmishes, and even a couple of engagements that involved more than one Cohort, we had not seen any of that action since the taking of the town. And like any young man, the horrors that one swears they would never want to endure again fade quickly as the days go by, so that by this point, it was not only my scar that needed scratching.

Continuing north, it turned out that Caesar was not blind and deaf to the rumblings of his army, and he took steps to mollify the men. Leaving the 8th Legion behind in Conimbriga to patrol the surrounding area and remind the inhabitants of their promise to him, this left him with the 7th, 9th, and us. After a three day march we arrived at the walls of another town and once again, a deputation ran out to greet him, falling all over themselves to do so. However, they were in for a rude surprise, because Caesar gave them terms that were so exorbitant that it would have bankrupted every person in town. He further insulted them by demanding that whatever slaves they owned were to be handed over to him to dispose with as he saw fit, and if the number of slaves did not meet with his satisfaction, he would demand that the leaders of the town turn over some of their citizens to make up the supposed shortfall. The Lusitani could not agree to this, something Caesar knew very well, and to add further insult to injury, when the deputation made to return to the town, Caesar had them seized and held as prisoners. Consequently, the Lusitani were left with no choice but to fight. Because the 10th was the assault element in our first town, this time we acted as reserves while the 7th and 9th got their chance to attack. The same stratagem was used on this town, with the 7th using the ram on the main gate, and the 9th going over the wall. One difference was that, unlike the first town this one did not have a natural defense like being on a hilltop, forcing the inhabitants to go to greater lengths to fortify their town, starting with a ditch several feet wide and several feet deep. Implanted in the ditch, on the bank nearest the town wall, were rows of sharpened stakes pointing outwards, while the ditch was half-filled with water that had gone stagnant, and was covered in a green slime. As in the first town, all brush and other matter that could provide even the most modest form of cover was removed, leaving a killing field of at least 200 paces in a swath around the town wall. The wall itself was again made of wood, but was even taller than the first town’s since it did not have the advantage of a hill, and was about 15 feet high. What I found curious is that there were no trees visible in the surrounding area that would have qualified to be included as part of the wall, making me wonder where the ones that made up the wall came from, and in such number. I would have understood if I had at least seen stumps that indicated that this place was forested at one time, but there was nothing like that. I asked Calienus, who shrugged, obviously never having thought of such a thing before.

“I guess they dragged them here from someplace else.”

Acting in our capacity as the reserve we were split into two, five Cohorts each, acting as support for the assaulting Legions. Our section supported the 7th assaulting the gate, giving us a front row seat to watch what the 8th had done from a different view. Positioned where we were, on a small rise perhaps a furlong from the walls and slightly to one side of the gate, it also meant that we could act as judges on how the other Legions did their business, and it would probably not surprise anyone to know that we found them seriously wanting. We were allowed to sit on the ground, still in formation of course, and watch the artillery go to work. This time the scorpions were evenly divided between the two sides because there was a significant enemy presence on the parapet above the gate and immediately surrounding it. The 7th formed up, with a Century pushing the ram, once again covered in green hides, which we could easily smell from our positions. As further protection, the hides were liberally doused with water so that the ram was dripping as it was pushed forward. Two tent sections, eight to ten men on each side, pushed the ram forward, with the rest of the Century following in testudo creeping along behind it, waiting for a man to fall. Whenever that happened, one of the men in the testudo would leave the formation, run to the vacated spot, yank out the fallen man’s shield to lay his own on the rack provided on the ram, then start pushing. In this manner, the ram never slowed down for any length of time. To further protect the men, the ram was constructed so that the roof jutted out above them, with the hides working as cover from the missile fire as they approached the walls. On the parapet, there was the usual array of men, dressed in their usual array of armor, or lack thereof, some of them armed with slings and a few even with bows, something that we had not run into before. Our scorpions kept up a steady rain of bolts, occasionally hitting something besides the wood of the wall, thereby consistently forcing the men on the wall to keep their heads down for more than a brief instant.

“They're taking nowhere near the kind of beating we took,” sniffed Remus, and we all nodded our heads in sage agreement, accepting as fact something we did not have the experience at that point to truly judge. Meanwhile, the rest of the 7th came forward behind the ram, formed in testudo s by Century just as we had done attacking the wall, their form drawing further commentary from the men around me. Consequently, the slingers on the front wall had more of a concentrated target than those along the walls around the town, knowing as they did that the Legion was headed for the main gate. Casualties mounted as the 7th advanced, with men beginning to fall out of their respective Centuries, some of them dead, while most howled in pain. Some of the stricken writhed on the ground, calling for help, but others just lay quietly waiting for the slaves and scribes that worked in the headquarters and who acted as stretcher bearers to come get them. One could sense that these men had been wounded before, and knew that there was no sense flopping about, yelling like a cat set on fire. Once the first men fell, all the joking among us ceased; there was nothing funny about seeing one of our own suffer.

The ram made it to the gate to begin its work, while the rest of the 7th sat absorbing the punishment, waiting for their chance to assault the gate. The air was thick with missiles and arrows, most of the arrows having been set alight and targeted at the ram, inevitably meaning that some of the men at the ram fell to them. A few men suffered the further misfortune of catching on fire, causing them to shriek even more horrifically than the other fallen, and we averted our eyes at the sight as those unfortunates staggered about, a couple of them lucky enough or with enough of their wits about them to run the short distance to throw themselves into the ditch and the slimy water to douse the flames. Even as this was happening, the ram began to do its work, with the men heaving it back and forth on its sling, and we could see the dust fly with each impact. Naturally, some of the men began to bet on when the massive oaken gate would give way; there is nothing that a Gregarius will not wager on, and nothing that he will not wager. Wine rations were the most common, since few of us had any coin with us, even after our spoils from the first town; this bounty was promptly deposited with Cordius, our Tesseraurius, who refused to give any of it back, despite the most urgent pleading, the loudest whining, or the vilest threats. That lack of cash meant that anything else of value was used instead. Besides wine and food rations, turns on duties that were considered easy were wagered the most often. Where the line was drawn was with pieces of equipment, since losing anything because of a bet guaranteed a flogging while the rest of the Century watched. Once the gate finally burst open, one who was unaware might have been taken aback that along with the lusty cheers there were scattered howls of protest and disappointment, as the men who picked the wrong number saw something precious to them go to one of their comrades. Almost immediately, a new line of betting was arranged, this one on the amount of time it would take before the town was declared taken. It turned out that nobody won the bet, because it took well into the night before the last Lusitani warrior was subdued. For a period of time we were called to intente and there was some debate about whether or not we would be thrown in to help finish the job, with both Tribunes of the assaulting Legions arguing with Caesar against it, claiming that it would dishonor their Legions since they had not been called to assist us. Or so that was the word that spread around, which we took with smug self-satisfaction, nodding to each other as if it merely confirmed what we had known all along, that nothing could be accomplished without the good old 10th Legion coming in and saving the day. Therefore, we were turned away to sit back down and watch the flames grow higher around the town, the yells and cries of men fighting and dying soon accompanied by the chorus of screams of the women who were unfortunate enough to live there.