The Helvetian Affair Read online

  “His meminero, Imperator,” Agrippa agreed.

  “Bene,” Caesar muttered, then seemed to retreat into his own thoughts as he watched the doomed Tigurini in the valley below.

  “Imperator, a word?” I interrupted his musing.

  “Quid vis tu?” he responded.

  I handed him the coin. “Madog, the chief of the Sequani cavalry, gave this to me.”

  “It’s a denarius,” he said. Then, he flipped it over. “One of mine . . . What’s the point, Insubrecus?”

  “Madog took it from a dead Helvetian . . . a minor officer . . . but the man had ten of these, Imperator,” I began to explain.

  “So, what you’re saying is that if a minor officer of the Helvetii had ten of these, then the enemy possesses quite a few more?” Caesar interrupted. “And, they’re of a new minting . . . one of mine, ironically . . . so the Helvetii came into possession of these recently.”

  “Certe, Imperator,” I agreed.

  Caesar continued, “And, you believe this is consistent with the rumors of Roman influence on the Helvetii and a possible conspiracy by Romans against me and this army?”

  “Credo, Imperator!” I again agreed.

  Caesar stared silently at the coin in his hand. Then, he flipped it back to me, saying, “You may be right about this, Insubrecus. I’m not completely convinced, but I am intrigued . . . Keep your eyes and ears open . . . Let me know immediately if you discover anything relevant.”

  I was just about to respond when we heard a bugle signal from the valley below. We watched the Tigurini freeze.

  “Al’iact’est,” Caesar stated. “The die is thrown, Insubrecus! Cornucen!”

  A bugler appeared from out of the woodline.

  “Signal ‘Tenth Legion’ and ‘Attack’!” Caesar ordered.

  As the man complied, Caesar shouted, “Horse!”

  A member of the praetorian detail came forward with Caesar’s white stallion. Caesar quickly removed his red cloak from the saddle and draped it over his shoulders. Then, he leaped up on the horse.

  “The men should know their general is watching them, Insubrecus,” he said to me. Then, he rode forward to the edge of the ridge.

  By this time, the encampment of the Tigurini in the valley below was swirling in chaos as if someone had kicked a beehive. To my left, I saw the first ranks of the Tenth Legion clear the woodline. At first, there were only two cohorts on line. The left-most cohort had its flank anchored on the riverbank. As the Roman line moved forward into the widening valley, a third cohort swung on line around the right flank of the advancing legion.

  “Malleus knows how to maneuver men according to the terrain,” Caesar said to no one in particular.

  There was some order emerging in the Tigurini camp. I could see warriors beginning to form a battle line on the southern edge of the encampment, facing the advancing legion. Others—men, women, and children—were fleeing toward the woods to the north.

  I heard Labienus say to Caesar, “We have an audience!” He was pointing across the Arar.

  I looked where Labienus was pointing and saw a group of Gallic horsemen.

  “Bene,” Caesar grunted. “Let them report what they see to the rest, and we may finish this campaign before the new crops break through the soil.”

  The Tenth already had four cohorts on line, facing the enemy. The second line had also emerged from the woodline. The front line advanced to within twenty paces of the Tigurini warriors. Then, the first two men across the entire Roman front launched their pila at the enemy. Then, the next two, then the next! Before the third volley of pila had hit, the Roman front ranks, their gladii bared, were charging into the enemy.

  It wasn’t much of a battle. The legionaries mowed through the ill-prepared Tigurini. Even from where I stood, I could see the legionaries advance through the enemy ranks with a combination of punching shields and stabbing short swords. Isolated knots of Tigurini warriors would temporarily hold out against the relentless advance of the Roman battle line, only to be surrounded and overwhelmed. The cohorts had pushed the barbarians about a third of the way across their encampment before they finally broke and began fleeing for the safety of the wooded hills to their rear.

  When this happened, Caesar again summoned his cornucen and commanded, “Signal ‘Tenth Legion’ and ‘Halt’!”

  The troops in the valley below executed Caesar’s order. I could hear them cheering across the battle line.

  Caesar called for Pulcher. “Legate, take your cavalry and seal the enemy in from the north and west . . . Do not engage unless you’re attacked, but do not become decisively engaged . . . Withdraw and send back for infantry reinforcement if they attempt to punch through you . . . I just want them contained!”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Imperator!” Pulcher’s grasp of military courtesy seemed to be steadily improving.

  “Labienus!” Caesar summoned. “Detail the fabricatores, the engineers of all three legions, to bridge the Arar! I want this army across by sundown!”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Imperator!”

  “Agrippa! Are you still here?” Caesar demanded.

  “Adsum, Imperator!” Agrippa responded.

  Caesar ordered, “Get down there to the Tenth . . . Find Malleus, the primus pilus . . . Tell him I want his second-line cohorts, all three of them, across the river to screen the bridge building . . . They can use the Tigurini’s boats to get themselves across . . . You’re in command of that detail . . . Questions?”

  “N’abeo, Imperator!” Agrippa snapped.

  “Good lad!” Caesar encouraged. “Get it done! Insubrecus!”

  “Adsum ti’, Imperator!” I responded.

  “You stay with me,” Caesar directed. “Pulcher should be bringing in some prisoners soon, and I want to be sure they understand my will.”

  VII.

  De Clementia Caesaris et Offensione Antigua

  CAESAR’S CLEMENCY AND AN ANCIENT PROVOCATION

  Divico respondit ita Helvetios a maioribus suis institutos esse uti obsides accipere non dare consuerint.

  “Divico answers that from the time of their ancestors, the Helvetians have been accustomed to take, not give, hostages.”

  (from Gaius Marius Insubrecus’ notebook of Caesar’s journal)

  Caesar had the bridges built and three legions across the Arar by nightfall. At the first hour of the next day, he dispatched a strong cavalry scout west under Labienus to locate the main body of the Helvetii, and by the fourth hour, the rest of the army came up from the Rhodanus and began crossing the Arar.

  The first Gallic embassy appeared at the sixth hour while Caesar was supervising the deployment of his trailing legions west of the Arar. A rider from Pulcher’s cavalry detachment, a tribunus angusticlavus, approached Caesar.

  “Ave, Imperator!” the tribune saluted Caesar, “The legate, Caius Claudius Pulcher, sends greetings and reports that a delegation of nobles from the Tigurini tribe is requesting an audience with the imperator. The legate believes they have come to surrender and wish to beg for clemency.”

  “You’re Tertius Nigidius Caecina, nephew of the Senator, Publius Nigidius Figulus, are you not?” Caesar responded.

  “Sum, Imperator!” the man responded.

  “I’ve read your uncle’s Commentarii . . . Quite impressive . . . Is he still dabbling in Etruscan augury?” Caesar asked.

  “Yes, Imperator,” Caecina answered with a laugh. “My aunt is always complaining of the stinking sheep livers he constantly drags home from the gods know where to stink up the house.”

  “Foro viri, foco mulieres regnant,” Caesar chuckled. “Men rule in the forum, women in the home . . . Please convey my compliments to the legate, and ask him to deliver the Tigurini delegation to me at the site of their former camp.”

  Caecina rode off to deliver Caesar’s message. Caesar then turned to Valgus, who was commanding his mounted praetorian detachment, and said, “Post a man on this side of the river where he can see the delegation arriving fr
om the north. When the Gauls appear, he is to alert me.”

  Valgus complied while Caesar continued supervising the crossing and quartering of the army. No more than half the hour had passed before the praetorian returned to report the approaching delegation.

  Again, Caesar summoned Valgus. “Decurio, take twenty men and cross the Arar. I want you to take up a position just south of where yesterday’s battle was fought, so the Gauls will have to ride past it,” Caesar instructed. “Then, wait for me there.”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Imperator!” Valgus snapped.

  Caesar dawdled on the west side of the Arar for a while longer, then finally crossed the bridge to receive the Gallic legation. As we rode to where Valgus had established himself, we realized that we were far enough away from yesterday’s battlefield that the flies, now feasting on the bodies of the dead Tigurini, would not be a great nuisance. We could see the Gallic embassy and their Roman escort waiting some fifty paces away. They also didn’t seem too eager to get close to yesterday’s butchery of their comrades.

  Caesar halted about twenty paces away from the Gauls. He turned his head in my direction, and asked, “What should I expect, Insubrecus?”

  I thought about the question for a few heartbeats, then responded, “If they ride up to you, they expect to negotiate with you as equals. If they dismount and walk to you, they’re surrendering.”

  No sooner had I said that than the leader of the delegation, a tall warrior, with gray streaked through his black hair, dismounted, removed his helmet, and held up his wand of negotiation for all to see. Then, he strode forward to where Caesar remained seated on his horse.

  “Rwy’n cuhfarch uh Caisaro meoun hedouch,” the warrior said.

  Caesar recognized his own name and asked, “Why does this man address me by my name?”

  “He means no disrespect, Imperator,” I cautioned. “He said uh Caisaro . . . He thinks that ‘Caesar’ is your title.”

  Caesar grunted, then said, “Tell him Caesar welcomes him. Ask him what he wants.”

  I translated this for the man, who then launched himself into a long, rambling Gallic oration. I kept up as best I could. The man was an under-chief of the Tigurini, but now found himself in command of the entire host since both the high-chief and his etifeto, his heir, fell in yesterday’s battle defending their people. He understood that there was a debt of blood between his people and the Romans, since the Tigurini had destroyed a Roman army almost a generation ago. The man suggested that yesterday’s battle had satisfied that debt, and now the Tigurini and the Romans should live in peace. He offered to obey the Roman Caesar and do whatever the Roman Caesar now requested of him. Then, there would be peace between their people.”

  Caesar thought about what the man had said, then said to me, “Tell me . . . What is his name, Insubrecus?”

  I asked the Gaul, “Mae Caisaro uhn gofun bet uhou eich enou, Prifo?”

  The man responded, “Please, tell the Caisar that I beg his pardon for my discourtesy. I am Tewdour mab Owain.”

  I told this to Caesar. He responded, “Tell Tudurmapowin this: First, he is to return his people to this place. Second, they are to bury their dead. Third, they are to return to their homeland. This is the Caisar’s wish. Then, the lemures of our dead and his dead will rest, and there will be peace between our people.”

  I told this to the chief. The look of relief was apparent on his face. He had anticipated humiliation, decimation, and slavery for his people. Caesar’s terms were more than generous.

  We were just about to terminate the negotiation when Tewdour raised his wand of negotiation to get our attention.

  “The Caisar’s clemency is great!” he began. “Let me grant him a gift in return. Tell the Caisar that the People of the Dark Moon are not his friends, although they pretend to be. Their desire is his destruction. It was they who invited the Helvetii to migrate into their lands. It was they who encouraged the Helvetii to devastate the lands of their enemies, the People of Soucana. It was they who invited the Germans over the Rhenus with promises of fertile land and loot. Also, tell the Caisar, when the People of the Dark Moon first came among the Helvetii, in the time when Owain mab Aflon was the orgorix, Romans came with them, Romans bearing silver for the war chief of the Helvetii.”

  I translated this for Caesar. He showed little surprise at this information. “The orgorix,” he mused. “That must be the one we call Orgetorix . . . That would have been back when Messala and Piso were consuls . . . Piso has connections to the Claudii.”

  Then Caesar said, “Can he describe these Romans?”

  I conveyed Caesar’s question to Tewdour, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Then, I spotted the tribune, Caecina, waiting in the distance with the Roman cavalry escort.

  “I have an idea,” I told Caesar. “Would you ask Caecina to join us?”

  Caesar shrugged, then called, “Caecina! Ad me venias!”

  The legate joined our group. When he was next to me, I slapped my chainmail lorica then his plate lorica, and asked Tewdour, “Can you tell me what armor the Romans wore?”

  Tewdour said, “Most wore armor like yours . . . good ringed iron . . . but one wore a breastplate like the other . . . hammered bronze.”

  I reached out and grabbed the bottom of Caecina’s tunic, and asked, “The one in bronze . . . was his tunic like this one?”

  “Like that,” Tewdour affirmed, “but the stripe was wider.”

  I told Caesar, “There was a Roman officer with the group, a laticlavus, a wide-striper.”

  Again, Caesar grunted. “A senior tribune . . . a senatorial . . . Ask him how the Orgetorix died.”

  When I did, Tewdour just shrugged and said, “He just died.”

  When I translated the response for Caesar, he just shook his head. “Sometimes men just die . . . It is their fate . . . Tell him we are done here . . . I expect to see his people gathered in this place by sundown.”

  I told Tewdour Caesar’s wishes. He made no move to depart.

  “Why isn’t he going about his business?” Caesar asked me.

  “He doesn’t want to be rude,” I told Caesar. “You have precedence here. It is for you to depart first.”

  “Very well,” Caesar said and pulled the head of his horse around toward the bridges on the Arar. “Caecina, with me!” he called over his shoulder.

  When we were a few paces away, Caesar instructed Caecina, “The Twelfth Legion is approaching the crossing. Go to their primus pilus . . . Nerva is his name . . . Tell him to detail four cohorts to remain on this side of the river and guard the Tigurini . . . I will give them two days to bury their dead and rest . . . Then, I want them heading east, back to their homeland . . . The four cohorts from the Twelfth and two alae of their cavalry will form a vexillatio, an independent detachment, to escort them . . . You will command it.”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Imperator!” Caecina responded, obviously pleased about being given his first independent command.

  “And, Caecina,” Caesar continued, “the Twelfth is a new legion . . . Most of the men haven’t been blooded . . . Tell Nerva to detail one of his more experienced centurions to you . . . Sanga, I think . . . the pilus prior of the Third Cohort . . . Yes . . . Sanga will fit the bill nicely.”

  Caecina rode off to find Nerva and the Twelfth Legion. Caesar led us back toward the bridge. As we rode, he asked me, “Are you surprised by my treatment of the Tigurini?”

  “I can’t say I understand it, Patrone,” I answered.

  “Why force a man to do what you want when you can convince him it’s what he wants?” Caesar answered.

  “I’m still not sure I understand,” I admitted.

  “With a large enemy force ahead of us, it makes no sense tactically to have another large enemy force in our rear,” Caesar lectured. “And, I don’t have the time or the manpower to police them all. Even if I were to do that, logistically speaking, what would I do with all those prisoners until I could unload them on the slave traders? No . .
. better to be done with them . . . The real threat is still ahead of us.”

  Caesar didn’t wait for my response, but continued, “Strategically speaking, the only way to secure the imperium is to keep the Germans east of the Rhenus . . . and the best way to do that is to maintain an alliance of strong Gallic tribes along the river . . . Even if they are not especially well-disposed towards Rome, they will not allow the Germans to cross and steal their lands . . . Rome needs the Tigurini back on the Rhenus and needs them strong enough to resist German incursions.”

  At the time, I had no idea why Caesar was sharing these thoughts with me. I have since learned that great men often make decisions based on instinct, and only later do they try to understand why they did what they did. Weak men fail to act and claim the issue was too complex.

  When we crossed one of the bridges to the west side of the Arar, we encountered Labienus, back from his reconnaissance of the Helvetii.

  “Ah, Labienus!” Caesar greeted him. “What news?”

  “The main body of the enemy is no more than five thousand passus to the west,” Labienus reported.

  “Five thousand passus?” Caesar repeated. “They are certainly in no hurry to escape.”

  Labienus almost sighed, “Imperator, I don’t think they see the need to escape . . . We couldn’t get an accurate count, but there must be tens of thousands of them on the march . . . They fear us no more than an elephant fears a gnat.”

  Caesar did some quick calculations, “A hundred thousand Gauls . . . Fifty thousand are male . . . Twenty to twenty-five thousand of fighting age . . . No more than ten thousand warriors . . . The rest are just pagani with sharp sticks . . . We have six Roman legions . . . I have almost twenty-seven thousand troops in the field, according to this morning’s strength report . . . What need do I have for caution?”

  “There may be more than one hundred thousand out there on the march . . . many more,” Labienus answered. “We need to get an accurate strength assessment before we decide to be too aggressive.”