The Helvetian Affair Page 28

  I heard Agrippa’s voice again, “Alae . . . equiis . . . citatis! Troops . . . to the canter!”

  Madoc signaled the Sequani by pumping his right fist twice, and the horses broke into a canter.

  Ahead of us, I could see the Germans take notice and stiffen, but they seemed frozen in place. They didn’t know what to do.

  Again, Agrippa, “Alae . . . spathas . . . stringite! Troops . . . draw . . . sabers!”

  Finally, in ones and twos, the Germans began to turn their horses away from us. They began to retreat back toward their army. Some remained in place, frozen.

  Agrippa, “Alae . . . equiis . . . currentibus! Troops . . . to the gallop!”

  We were just beginning to pick up some speed when we ran into those few Germans too foolish to run. One appeared directly in front of me. His eyes seemed to be the size of denarius coins. He dropped his spear and raised his arms up, as if to protect himself. I saw Athauhnu’s sword slice into his face just above his mouth. His body tumbled to my left. I felt a brushing impact with his horse. Then, I was past him. Nothing but empty fields and fleeing German horsemen were to my front.

  We were about a hundred passus away from our objective when Nemesis struck.

  The mounted gedricht of the German ciuning began to crest the slope in front of us—whether alerted by their own fleeing cavalry or following the king who wanted to see the terrain in front of him, I could not tell. The ciuning was riding in the center of his troop.

  Madog ran directly at the German king. Athauhnu changed the direction of our gallop so we would crash into the Germans’ right flank.

  I heard the crash as Madog’s troop collided with the Krauts. I had no time to look. We hit the German flank immediately after. My horse, Clamriu, crashed into a German’s mount. I saw her bite down into the other horse’s neck. The rider was thrown off away from us. He never rose. His horse collapsed and rolled where the rider fell. I saw a face in front of me, bearded. I stabbed at it and felt an impact up through my sword arm. I glimpsed a tightly packed group of Germans protecting a wounded man, leading him down the slope away from the battle. It was their king.

  Then Clamriu reared back. I almost tumbled over her rump. She was kicking and biting at another horse. The Kraut rider was trying to get control. A Sequani reached over and plunged his sabre into the man’s arm pit. He went down into the scrum. The German riders seemed to be melting away back down the hill. Somewhere to my right, I could hear a Gallic hunting horn. Our troops were pulling back toward it. The tangle of men and horses was unraveling. I stole a look down the ridge. The ground was covered with German infantry. A chief on a horse was trying to rally them up the ridge toward our position. I could sense some movement in our direction. Again I heard the Gallic signal to assemble. I moved back to where our troop was gathering.

  Agrippa was still in the saddle. He had a slicing wound across the ridge of his nose and his left cheekbone. Madog and Athauhnu seemed winded, but unbloodied. Ci was not there. Then, I saw him sorting out our troops as they rode back from the point of contact.

  Agrippa grabbed my arm. I realized I hadn’t sheathed my spatha. I raised it and realized the point was bloodied. I wondered how I could clean it off before returning it to the sheath. I heard Agrippa’s voice in the distance. “Are you listening, Decurio?”

  “Uh . . . audio? Te audio, Tribune!” I heard myself say.

  “You are to ride back to the army!” Agrippa was saying. “Find Caesar . . . Tell him there’s an entire Kraut army on his flank . . . at least ten thousand . . . probably more . . . Boii and Tulingi . . . They’re marching west . . . Compre’hendis tu?”

  “Compre’endo, Tribune!” I said snapping out of it.

  I still didn’t know what to do with my bloodied spatha.

  Athauhnu handed me a bloody rag. “Use this,” he told me. “The German who wore it doesn’t need it anymore!”

  I cleaned off my spatha and returned it to the sheath on my saddle.

  “Emlun and Rhodri will ride with you,” I heard Athauhnu say.

  “Rhodri without Alaw?” I questioned.

  Athauhnu shot me a dark look. “Alaw feasts with the heroes in the Land of Youth,” he said.

  The three of us ran west as fast as our tired mounts could take us. Most of the way, we didn’t dare to go faster than a canter. Ahead, I could hear the Roman trumpets clearly. The last signal I heard was a general call for close ranks. That could only mean the enemy was advancing on the legionary line.

  Ahead, there was a wooded ridgeline that advanced across the valley from the south. Beyond it, I could hear a noise, a noise like powerful waters running and the murmur of thousands of voices.

  Rhodri suggested we climb the ridge and not go around it to the north. I agreed. That decision probably saved our lives.

  When we crested the ridge below us, we saw the enemy, the Helvetii, tens of thousands of them, moving north across the open valley. We were behind the enemy horde!

  To my right, on a gently rising slope along the north wall of the valley, was Caesar’s army. Four legions in acies triplex, the triple line, were facing the Helvetii. Above them, I could see the remaining two legions in acies duplex, two battle lines with open ranks, matching the flanks of the forward legions.

  The Helvetii were rushing straight toward Caesar like a wall of water when a damn breaks. I wondered briefly if our army could withstand such a massive flow of warriors.

  I did feel a momentary surge of relief, realizing that the Germans would arrive on the battlefield in front of our troops. Then, Rhodri grabbed my arm and pointed to a long slope about five hundred passus to our left.

  “The Helvetii are forming a shield wall there!” he said.

  I peered in the direction Rhodri indicated and could easily make out enemy troops forming ragged battle lines on the forward slope.

  “Look there!” Rhodri said again. “The king has set himself near the hilltop!”

  Again, I could see a cluster of heavily armed, mounted warriors where Rhodri indicated. There was a cluster of enemy standards among the riders.

  “This is not right, Arth Bek,” Rhodri started.

  “Not right? What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Their brenna aw frouuhdrau, their war chief, is holding his best troops back from the attack,” Rhodri explained, pointing toward the enemy standards. “Only the tribal musters advance. The warriors led by their war chief should be advancing behind them under the tribal standards. When the musters open the Roman lines, the warriors must be in position to attack through the gaps. Something is wrong!”

  Just then, the Romans began their attack.

  The forward edge of the enemy advance had begun to climb up toward the Roman front line. When it was about thirty passus away, I heard the Roman trumpet signal pila ponite, “present spears!” There wasn’t much movement along the Roman line; most of the muli in the front line had already assumed the position by the time the enemy reached the bottom of their hill.

  Then, as the enemy closed to twenty passus, pila parate was sounded, “ready spears.” Even at this distance, I could see movement and reflections of light as the muli, almost in a single motion, brought their throwing spears to the ready position.

  Then, the trumpets sounded pila iacite, “open fire.” This was followed by three blasts of the horn, three rounds. The soaring spears looked like a fastmoving, black cloud rushing from the Roman lines into the front edge of the enemy, some fifteen passus away. Before the first volley struck, a second was in the air, then, a third.

  The effect of the spear volleys was devastating.

  The natural reaction to a volley of spears is to raise shields for protection. But, the Roman pila are weighted, designed to punch through a shield with enough force to penetrate even the thickest protective padding, even hardened leather.

  Most of the Helvetii muster-men wore nothing; in fact, many had attacked bare-chested to show their contempt for the enemy. They were mowed down like wheat under a scythe
.

  Even if a warrior were lucky enough to have chainmail to blunt the point of the pilum, the impact of the blow would be enough to knock him down, and the spear would have rendered his shield useless. The Roman pilum is designed so it cannot be extracted from a shield, leaving a man naked before the short, Roman stabbing sword, the gladius.

  No sooner had the third volley of pila risen into the air than the Roman trumpets signaled acies prima, “Front line!” Then, gladios stringite, “Draw swords!” Across the valley, all along the Roman front line, light flashed as thousands of short swords were drawn from their scabbards.

  Behind me, I heard Emlun calling my name. I didn’t want to take my eyes off the drama unfolding in front of me.

  The Roman trumpets called impetum facite, “Attack!”

  The entire Roman front line descended on the muddle that was once the front edge of the Helvetian attack. It was no contest. The Romans slaughtered any of the Helvetii foolish enough to try to stand their ground.

  Then, from the hill to our left, the Helvetian trumpets blasted out a cacophonous strain. Immediately, the thousands of Helvetii in the field below us turned and ran from the Roman advance. At that time, I was too inexperienced to realize that the maneuver I was seeing was impossible for a barbarian army, unless it had been planned.

  Again, Emlun called to me.

  “What is it?” I called back.

  “Madog un dod!” he answered. “Madog comes!”

  “Signal him up here to us!” I instructed.

  As the Helvetii fled south, the Roman trumpets blasted “general call.” Then, signa proferte, “advance the standards.” Immediately, the second and third lines followed the first down the ridge and began crossing the valley in pursuit of what Caesar believed was a defeated and fleeing enemy. I noticed that the two legions near the top of the ridge held their position.

  Agrippa was suddenly at my side. He was speechless for a few heartbeats as the panorama of the battle unfolded below him.

  Off to the north, I saw the Roman cavalry advance across the enemy’s left flank, led by an officer mounted on a white horse and a bright red sagum trailing behind him.

  “Venatum Caesar ducit ipse, Tribune!” I said to Agrippa. “Caesar leads the pursuit himself, Tribune!”

  We watched as Caesar and most of our cavalry disappeared behind the edge of a distant hill heading toward the enemy’s rear.

  Suddenly, Agrippa exclaimed, “Verpa Martis! Quae calamitas! This is a disaster!”

  “Pro qua dicis tu?” I sputtered, forgetting all military protocol.

  Agrippa turned and grabbed me by my shoulder armor. I thought he was going to deliver castigatio for being insubordinate.

  But instead, he said, “Don’t you see it, Insubrecus? That Kraut horde is less than an hour behind us. They will arrive here, right where we’re standing. By that time, they will be on the flank and rear of our army and in position to attack. And, our imperator is on the wrong side of the battlefield, out of position, chasing after easy kills and plunder! Over ten thousand Germans will be pouring down this hill right onto the back of our army! It will be the massacre of Arausio all over again!”

  Agrippa noticed the two legions still positioned on the ridgeline to the north. “Those must be the Eleventh and Twelfth,” he concluded. “Caesar must be holding them back so the army will have a position to retreat to. There must be a senior officer up there with them. I hope he has a set of coleones! We have to turn the army around!”

  “Madocus Dux!” Agrippa called.

  Madog approached our position. He too was initially stunned by what he saw below us. He too immediately understood the German threat.

  “Immerda sumus!” he said, for once getting the Latin idiom right.

  Agrippa instructed him, “Madocus, your mission is to track the Germans and screen our army. I believe this will be their final coordination line for an attack on the Roman rear. When they reach this point, withdraw down into the valley below. Stay between the Krauts and our army! Do not become decisively engaged with them! You must maintain your freedom to maneuver. I will go below and try to organize a defense. I will look for you on the field of battle. But, if this thing goes wrong, I release you from your sacramentum. Do what you can for the survivors, but get your people back to your own lands as best you can. The Aedui will be looking to settle some old debts once we Romans are gone.”

  To ensure Madog understood, I translated while Agrippa spoke. A few pedes away, I saw Athauhnu listening. He looked grim.

  Agrippa turned to me. “You’re with me, Insubrecus Decurio. Let’s see if we can pull Caesar’s balls out of the vice he’s placed them in.”

  As I retrieved Clamriu from Emlun’s care, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. It was Athauhnu. He looked at me gravely, then nodded his head. “You dress and talk like a Roman,” he announced, “but you are still Gah’el. When this is over we will feast together, either in the hall of my father in the lands of the Soucanai or in the Hall of Heroes in the Land of Youth.”

  “Save me a place on the mead-bench!” I said. “We’ll fight over the hero’s portion.”

  We placed our hands on each other’s shoulders in the fashion of the Gah’el. I mounted Clamriu and followed Agrippa onto the battleground below.

  We rode hard across the battlefield, behind the Roman third line, to the right flank of the army, the commander’s position. Agrippa was hoping that Caesar had left someone there with enough auctoritas to take command of the army in his absence. We were disappointed.

  When we arrived, we found no senior officers. Malleus, the “Hammer,” the primus pilus of the Tenth Legion, was advancing on foot along with his legion on the right flank of the entire Roman army.

  Agrippa pulled up next to Malleus. “Are you in command here, Centurio?” he asked.

  Malleus shrugged, “I must be, Tribune . . . I’m the senior officer present!”

  “Where is the imperator?” Agrippa asked.

  “Forward with the cavalry,” Malleus indicated the fleeing enemy’s open flank.

  “What orders did Caesar leave you?” Agrippa demanded.

  Again, Malleus shrugged, “He said to continue to advance . . . Keep up the pressure . . . Don’t let them rally against us . . . The normal shit, Tribune. What’s the problem?”

  “The Boii and Tulingi are coming in on our left flank, Centurio . . . You’re walking into an ambush!” Agrippa declared.

  Malleus’ face blanched. “There’s nothing I can do. I have my orders. My authority only extends over the Tenth.”

  Agrippa nodded. “I will find someone who has the authority. Listen for the signals!”

  With that, Agrippa turned his horse, and we galloped toward the two legions still stationed on the hill to the north. As we rode, I wondered who Caesar had put in command on the hill. Unless he were willing to take a risk and use some initiative, we were perfututi, absolutely screwed.

  We immediately spotted a command standard on the right flank of the Eleventh Legion. It was Labienus. There was hope!

  Labienus came forward when he saw us riding up. He knew we were screening the army’s flank and sensed our urgency. Agrippa wasted no time in briefing him. Labienus immediately understood the gravity of the situation.

  “And Caesar cannot be reached?” he demanded of Agrippa again.

  “No, Legate! The imperator has gone forward with the cavalry,” Agrippa confirmed.

  “Cacat!” Labienus exploded. “Shit! How soon will the Krauts arrive?”

  Together, we all looked across the battlefield to where we had left the Sequani cavalry screen. They had not withdrawn from the hill. The Germans were not yet in position. “My guess, we have less than an hour,” Agrippa answered.

  I watched as Labienus examined the disposition of forces on the battlefield. Then, he examined the ridge from which we expected the Germans to descend on us. He seemed to make a decision.

  “Fabi! Ad me!” he called over to his command group.

&nbs
p; A broad-striper rode forward. “Ti’ adsum, Legate!” he reported.

  “Fabius, have both legions entrench!” he instructed. “Two camps with enough room to protect the baggage train. Do it now!”

  “Sir,” Fabius responded, “there’s no water on this hill . . . Perhaps I should find a better position?”

  “No time, Fabius!” Labienus shook his head. “Have the men fill their water bottles . . . There should be some water carts within the supply train . . . Fill them . . . Fill anything that will contain water . . . but get those camps built! We may not have much time!”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Legate!” Fabius responded.

  Fabius turned his horse back toward the standing legions and started to snap out orders to the senior centurions.

  Labienus called out again, “Iudaeus!”

  The primus pilus of the Eleventh stepped forward. “Ti’ adsum, Legate!” he reported.

  “Put one of your flute girls on a horse and send him to me!” Labienus ordered. “I need to borrow him for a while!”

  “A’mperi’tu’, Legate!”

  Agrippa spoke suddenly and pointed across the battlefield. “Legate, ecce! Sir, look!”

  Along the edge of the woods on the ridgeline, where we had left Madog, there was movement.

  “We’re running out of time,” Labienus muttered.

  A legionary cornucen rode up to our group with his cornu draped around his body.

  “Ti’ adsum, Legate!” he said, almost falling off the horse with the effort.

  Labienus pointed to the left flank of our advancing army, the point closest to where the Germans would soon appear. “Illuc! There! We ride there! Celerrime! We haven’t much time! Follow me!”

  Labienus galloped down the hill, Agrippa immediately behind him.

  I looked over to the trumpeter. “You going to make it?” I asked.

  The man was holding his reins with one hand, a saddle horn with the other, all the while trying to keep his cornu from slipping down off his shoulder.