THE INVASION OF GAUL (35 page)

He waited for the inevitable complaints and comments, but such were not forthcoming. Glancing around the senior centurions, he saw speculative smiles playing across their faces.

“
Once you are in position, you must remain out of sight and hold until you hear the call for a general advance. I will have that call put out in a little over an hour, so that is all the time you have. Can you do it?”

Two of the centurions saluted.

“
It’ll be a pleasure sir.”

“
Then get them moving immediately. Oh, and should you come across an errant cavalry ala on your journey, tell them that they are no longer needed here. In fact, you might prefer to commandeer them yourself. A few cavalry might prove useful to you.”

As the two centurions hurried off beck to their units, the other two shrugged.

“
Then what do you intend for our cohorts, sir?”

Crispus smiled.

“
We need to instil some confusion in the enemy, and to distract them for a time so that they do not see the other two cohorts leaving the main force. I want your units to pull out to the end of our line and perform a sweeping advance on the Gauls, pushing in on them in the fashion of a closing gate. Keep them occupied for the next thirty minutes or so.”

“
Sir.”

As the others rushed off and left Crispus alone on the slight rise, he felt a thrill. The earlier trepidation he had felt had all but dissipated in the knowledge that he was doing everything an officer could do in the situation, and understanding that they were now in the hands of the fates.

Balbus had been aware for some time that the army had been flanked. He could only hope that Crispus was up to the task. As soon as the report had come in that the Eleventh had been forced to deploy alone and protect the army against a large reserve force, Balbus had tried to manoeuvre the Eighth to give him some support. Unfortunately, the Gauls had timed their attacks perfectly. By the time the enemy reserve had attacked the Eleventh, the front lines were well and truly mired down with the Helvetian main force.

Things were going slowly at the front. After making good initial headway, the Helvetii had taken up a very defensive position on the hill, echoing the earlier formation of Caesar’s army.

Now the fighting had come down to a brutal pushing back and forth of the lines. The casualties on both sides were terrible, and no one could gain the upper hand. If the Eleventh broke and the Gaulish reserves got behind the main force, they would all be butchered where they stood.

His heart had fluttered a little around an hour ago when he saw almost half of Crispus’ force separate off and split itself into two further groups. Half of them had left the battlefield by a long, circuitous route, while the other half had engaged the enemy in a hopeless attempt at a pincer movement. Balbus desperately hoped that Crispus had something up his sleeve. The force defending the flank was weakening as he watched.

A shout from one of the staff officers made him turn. From his position on the lower slopes of the hill, Balbus had a good view of the rear ranks and the events unfolding on the periphery of the field. Leaving the Eighth in the hands of its capable centurions, he stood and watched the Eleventh with a growing sense of excitement. Something
was
happening there.

A general advance call had been given, despite the fact that the Eleventh had absolutely no room to manoeuvre. His mouth hanging open, Balbus watched as a full fifth of a legion, around a thousand men, appeared over the crest of a ridge behind the enemy reserves. He laughed. The Gauls had outflanked the Romans, so Crispus had outflanked them in return. It was almost too perfect. As he watched, the newly-positioned Roman force closed on the rear of the Helvetii, reaching them almost before the Gauls were even aware the Romans were there. With a crash, the two cohorts hit the Gauls, crushing them now between two shield walls. The pincer units that Crispus had set off now came round the end of the line and fell in with the new attacking force, bolstering their numbers. Balbus grinned. The man was a genius. He’d even managed to find some cavalry from somewhere to harry the few Gauls who managed to flee the crushing pincers. It was like poetry.

Aware that the main Gaulish force on the hill would have had an even better view than he, Balbus realised that this was it;
now
they could be broken. Turning back to his own legion, he raised his voice to spur his men on.

* * * * *

It had been fully dark now for almost an hour. There had been a period of dusk where the legions had still been able to manoeuvre properly, but command had now fully passed to the level of the centurionate, each century acting almost completely independently. It was not the way any of the officers would have had it, given the choice, but the battle had gone on so much longer than any of them had expected and couldn’t be stopped now.

After the rather risky manoeuvre that Crispus had pulled with the Eleventh, the reserve force of the Gauls had broken. Little more than a quarter of that force had escaped the jaws of Crispus’ trap alive, and they had fled back to the Helvetian baggage train. Crispus had set off on their heels, and had been joined by Balbus and the Eighth.

The main force on the hill had broken shortly afterwards, fleeing higher and higher up the slope, turning to fight a desperate rearguard action every few hundred yards. Fronto’s Tenth, Crassus’ Seventh, and primus pilus Grattius leading the Ninth, had continued a slow, deliberate push up the hill. Galba had long since taken the Twelfth round to the other side of the peak, and had brought the Roman attack in from another side. Unfortunately, much of the bulk of the Helvetian force had fled down the other side of the hill before Galba had arrived and made escape for the rest impossible. In response, Longinus had sent a scouting party to follow the escaping Gauls and track their movements.

Now, under a thick covering of cloud, illuminated only by the burning torches that many of the Roman units carried, the four legions encircled the hill, almost at the summit. They had perhaps three thousand of the enemy trapped on the hill. Initially the legates had sent the legions forward at speed to finish them. That had been a mistake that had been paid for in large numbers of Roman dead. From their position on the hill, the Helvetii had showered the advancing force with arrows, spears, rocks and anything else that came readily to hand, including the dead. The angle of the hill prevented the Roman forces from casting enough missiles up at the Helvetii to cause any real threat, and the large boulders at the summit provided adequate protection for the Gauls in any case.

Velius and his Second Cohort were now pinned down on the side of the hill. He had given the order a quarter of an hour ago for the various centuries under his command to form tortoises, a square formation that allowed the legionaries to create a shield wall on all four fronts with a roof of shields above them all. Unfortunately, every time they moved, the tortoise came apart due to the terrain, and they had barely made an advance. From the little he could see, the other cohorts around him were taking the same steps and suffering the same problems.

He clicked his tongue in irritation. There was no way they could stay here. They would probably still be in the same position in the morning, with considerably fewer troops from the odd missiles that managed to penetrate the shields. He briefly considered calling out to the Gauls and demanding they surrender, but he knew that would do little good. There would have to be a charge, but that would involve the loss of a number of men and the legionaries would not be favourable after the last few attempts. One thing was sure, if
he
didn’t do something, no one else was going to.

He glanced around at the men closest to him.

“
Nonus, Albius & Curtius, come here.”

Three legionaries made their way through the throng and reported to the centurion.

“
You three are dangerous lunatics, aren’t you?”

The three looked at each other, confused.

“
Nonus, you won that inter-century wrestling match all but naked in the snow! Albius, I was told you once broke your nose just to see how it felt! Curtius, well you’re just plain deranged!”

A number of grins issued around the nearest troops. Albius furrowed his fairly impressive and low brow.

“
Alright, point taken sir. I don’t much like the sound o’ this. What d’you want us to do?”

Velius set his jaw firm and looked at the three. Nonus was small and wiry, but with incredible endurance and at the peak of physical fitness. Albius was at least a foot taller than Velius, and much broader in the shoulders, with an impressive physique and a Neanderthal look. Curtius barely stood out from a crowd with the exception of his beard, very unfashionable among all civilised circles.

“
We’re going to break this party up. The four of us are going to get to the top of the hill and keep them busy while the rest of the troops come up.”

Nonus choked.

“
Four
of us? There’s hundreds of them just on
this
side of the hill. We’ll get killed.”

Curtius grinned and rounded on Nonus.

“
I dunno, Nonus. It’s only about a minute’s run from ‘ere to the rocks. Once we’re there, we can cause a bit o’ trouble. All we’ve to do is stay alive for two bloody minutes.” He turned to Velius. “I’m up for it sir.”

Velius called to the signifer and cornicen of his century.

“
As soon as we move to the front, give it one minute and call a single blast to time our breakout together. The moment we get to the top of the hill, you get the whole mass moving as quick as possible. Forget the formation, just run. Break ranks and move in for the kill. Formations are worth shit in this kind of terrain, anyway.”

The two nodded.

“
We’ll get ‘em going sir.”

Velius gritted his teeth and drew his sword, setting his shield straight on his arm.

“
Alright lads, we’re going to break out of the front of the tortoise in four different places and give ‘em several targets. I’m relying on you. If you get hit, ignore it and keep running. Our job is to keep them busy long enough for the Tenth to move up the hill. Got it?”

The others nodded and, saluting briefly, pushed their way through the mass of people to the front ranks. A few moments later the horn sounded, and the four Romans burst from the front shield wall at a fast run, shields held high and directly in front.

Velius ran as fast as he could, and with years of outrunning the fittest recruits the military could provide, that was a fair turn of speed. He blindly ignored the sounds of heavy items bouncing off the front of his shield and concentrated instead upon where his run took him, zigzagging as much as possible and avoiding obstacles that could trip him and leave him open to the enemy. In his mad dash, he couldn’t spare time to consider the others. He just hoped they were the fearless lunatics he thought they were.

Something whizzed past his sword arm, grazing the flesh and drawing blood. Cursing, he stumbled as the incline became suddenly much steeper. As he regained his balance, the point of an arrow pierced his shield and came within inches of his face. Risking a look above his shield, he could see two huge rocks not more than ten yards away. Gritting his teeth once more, he sprinted diagonally up the slope and then, turning on his heel, came back across and dropped in front of the rock.

For the first time, he spared a glance to see where the others were. Nonus was little more than ten yards behind him, floundering on the slope which had almost tripped him. Curtius was at around the same elevation, but twenty yards to the left. Of Albius he could see no sign.

In order to give Nonus as much cover as possible, he grabbed a handful of pebbles from below the rock face and, clambering round the side of the boulder, hurled the pebbles at head height among the Gauls. The shouts suggested his aim had been accurate and the missile fire aimed at Nonus slackened for a moment.

Velius held the shield up to ward off a number of blows and, moments later, Nonus was by his side. As he made a few tentative strikes with his sword, Nonus grabbed a handful of pebbles and repeated the earlier gesture. The two continued to harass the Helvetii as much as they could, and finally Curtius arrived at the rock, his sword arm hanging limp at his side, clearly broken. Jamming his shield into the gap with his good arm, he leaned toward Velius.

“
Anyone seen Albius?”

“
No. He can’t have made it. Are the troops moving yet?”

Curtius glanced around and over his shoulder.

“
They’re on their way.”

Velius breathed deeply. This was it. The legions surged up the slope like locusts over a lush field, bearing down on the beleaguered and now doomed Helvetii.

Balbus, who had been at the rear of the legion, jogged forward to reach the primus pilus. Balventius led, as all the centurionate did, from the front. The Eighth were closing in, slowly but surely, on the Helvetian baggage. On the other side of the baggage train, Crispus’ Eleventh were closing the trap. There was no escaping the encircling Romans, but the Helvetii had formed a makeshift rampart from their wagons and were fighting with spears from beneath and behind the vehicles.

Balbus knew, as he felt Crispus must, that one quick rush would overwhelm the survivors, but would cost the legions dearly. Instead, both legates were maintaining a careful attitude to the assault. The wagons were surrounded by a Roman shield wall, and every five minutes a different century or two were sent forward to push at one of the wagons. The tactics were working. The Roman losses had been negligible, but the Gauls were gradually being thinned out and the defences of their makeshift wall were becoming dangerously stretched.