THE INVASION OF GAUL (34 page)

“
Shit.” The cornicen, his horn still hanging on his shoulder, put his hand over his eyes and squinted toward the road.

In the grip now of a concern for the whole army, Crispus said sharply ”
Soldier
!”

The cornicen pulled himself into an attention stance and saluted.

“
Apologies. I meant ‘Shit,
Sir
!’”

Crispus rapped emphatically on the cornicen’s helmet with his knuckles.

“
Let’s forego the formalities, soldier. Just issue the signals
now
!”

Nodding, the cornicen unslung his cornu and began to blare out signals. The Eleventh halted in their tracks and obeyed with practiced ease. By the time they had faced left, the second enemy were above the ridge and making their presence known. The flanking Gauls, members of the Boii and Tulingi tribes that travelled as part of the Helvetii, outnumbered the Eleventh Legion by more than two to one. Crispus would need to pull off an impressive manoeuvre to hold this together. He wondered if the Ninth would stop their pursuit and join in the protection of the flank. Other signals were being relayed across the army.

Straining to hear, he could make out just enough to understand what was happening. The Helvetii had halted and drawn up into a formation mirroring that with which Caesar had initially held the other hill. The Ninth would be no help to Crispus; they would be engaging the front lines of the Helvetii by now. He wondered briefly whether to send a runner to Galba and the Twelfth, but then realised that the Twelfth would already be swinging out the other way to try and flank the Helvetii.

Crispus scratched his brow, trying desperately to think. He would have perhaps a minute before the new threat closed on the flank and the Romans would be hemmed in. The Eleventh had no javelins left after the volleys at the hill. Any tactics he could come up with would have to be brutally hand-to-hand. Grinding his teeth, his mind flipped back through ethereal pages of the great battles of the Scipios, Alexander and others.

He suddenly became aware that although his legion stood alert, tense and awaiting the crash of the charging Gauls, the officers were looking at him expectantly.

“
Maintain the shield wall.”

It was weak and they knew it. Longinus or Fronto would have come up with a brilliant last-second manoeuvre that unmanned the Gauls. He wasn’t experienced enough; didn’t have the instinctive flair for strategy. He averted his eyes from the glares of the centurions. They might well hold the shield wall, but for how long? How long would they need to protect the flank? Would the Eleventh even exist afterwards? Crispus offered a fervent prayer to Nemesis.

A moment later, the second front of the Gaulish force smashed into the Eleventh, and the pyrrhic butchering began. There were more than twice as many of the enemy, but the legionaries were better equipped. Both sides would wear down at roughly the same rate, Crispus estimated, and that was unacceptable to his centurions.

He made his way along the rear ranks of the legion to the highest piece of the ground on this irritatingly flat plain. Desperately casting around for ideas, he glanced once more at the hill and could see the fight going hard on the other legions too. The outcome was far too unsure with the Helvetii now holding the high ground and fighting with renewed vigour, knowing that the Romans were engaged on two fronts and fighting for their life. The only solution would be to break their spirit. There would be precious chance of that at the front, so the Eleventh would have to do something. If the flanking Gauls got through the shield wall, they could attack the army from the rear and the legions would be massacred.

He spotted another ala of Longinus’ cavalry making their way across the centre of the plain. Perhaps they could help in some way. He waved and bellowed until one of them finally noticed him and the unit turned and made their way toward him. The prefect in charge of the unit leaned down over his horse’s neck to address Crispus.

“
Sir?”

Crispus, still flustered and visibly so, tried hard to pull his hoarse voice under control and to appear in full command of his faculties.

“
Prefect, are you riding to engage the enemy?”

The cavalry officer looked momentarily taken aback.

“
Sir, we
did
our job at the start. We’re undermanned and tired now and…”

Crispus waved the talk aside with his arm.

“
I’m not asking you to make a stand or fight to the death, man; I would just like you to perform a small service for me, unless you’re otherwise engaged.”

The prefect was visibly relieved. He had missed a full night’s sleep before the battle and then lost nearly half his ala in the first ten minutes.

“
So what do you want us to do, Sir?”

A slow smile spread across the legate’s face. The bare bones of an idea were forming in his head.

“
I need you to skirt round these Gauls, giving them a wide berth, and remaining out of sight. Make your way around behind them to that ridge by the road; do you see it?”

The prefect nodded as he followed Crispus’ gesture.

“
I need to know how many troops can be concealed behind the ridge, whether there is sufficient cover to get them there without being observed, and how long this would take. Can you do that for me?”

The cavalry officer nodded.

“
I think we can manage that, Sir.”

Crispus smiled again.

“
Good fellow. Return with all possible alacrity.”

He scanned the horizon for a moment, before becoming aware that the prefect remained where he was.

“
Is something amiss, prefect?”

“
What’s alacrity, sir?”

Crispus sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“
Speed, man, speed!”

The cavalry rode off and Crispus, suddenly full of energy, turned back to his legion. Finding the rearmost of the centurions, he caught his attention.

“
Pass the word along to the other centurions. Necessity demands that we maintain the line as long as possible. There cannot be a single break, though we are in no way going to press the enemy. I do
not
want to see any heroics; just hold and maintain a defensive posture for as long as we can.”

The centurion looked at Crispus, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

“
Just do it, centurion.”

“
Yes sir.”

Crispus shielded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the sun. It would be around three or four in the afternoon now. With the high hills around them, the sun would set a lot earlier than it should at this time of the year, and the light would begin to fail at around seven. No general, or soldier for that matter, wanted to fight in the dark, so the officers would be pushing to finish this in a few hours. He doubted Caesar would let the legions pull out without finishing the enemy for good, but would the Helvetii want to stay after dark? Either way, it would need concluding soon.

He glanced around the horizon to see if he could spot the cavalry prefect and his ala, but they were not to be seen.

A series of shouts drew his attention to the front line of the Eleventh, where something was happening. This was no good. He’d have to get himself a little involved. Fronto was always in the thick of it with his men, hacking and cutting and that was part of what made his legion respect him. Crispus would have to be seen to be involved.

Drawing his sword, he pulled one of the rear rank cornicens aside.

“
I’m not sure what the correct signal is, but I’m coming through to the front and I need a corridor clearing.”

The cornicen stared at him, shrugged, and began to blow on the mouthpiece of the instrument.

As the men of the Eleventh pulled to either side, Crispus grabbed the cornicen’s shoulder.

“
Remain in position here. The moment that cavalry prefect returns, signal me immediately.”

The cornicen nodded.

“
Sir.”

Rolling his shoulders and flexing the muscles in his sword arm, Crispus began to make his way between the soldiers toward the front. As he reached the front cohorts he immediately identified a problem. The Gauls were pulling back at several places along the front, opening up a gap between the two lines. Despite the desperate urgings of the centurions, the legionaries of the shield wall were bowing out, filling the space vacated by the Gauls. In their desire to reach the withdrawing Helvetii, the legionaries were stretching the shield wall to breaking point. If the Gauls managed a solid push back from where they were, they would punch through the line with hardly any resistance.

The Eleventh were still a green legion, unused to field warfare. Caesar had kept them back as a reserve unit on a number of occasions and, being suddenly in a frontline combat situation, the troops were eager to push and gain ground. The centurions, veterans drawn from other legions, were experienced enough to know that the line must hold together. They shouted their commands, and the optios at the back echoed the orders, but the troops were too enthusiastic and inexperienced to pay a great deal of attention.

Crispus was unused to command and relatively untried himself, but he had the advantage of a good education and the access to military histories that came with it. Something would have to be done, and he would have to do it.

Swallowing nervously, he made his way through to the front ranks, the path that had opened up narrowing as he reached the front. Close enough to the enemy, he spied one of the gaps that had opened up and the bulge in the shield wall. Shouting orders for them to step aside, he pushed and manhandled his way to the shield wall. Another nervous gulp and a fervent prayer to Mars, and he pushed through the shield wall from the rear, bursting out into the no-mans land between the lines.

Turning his back on the Gauls, he faced the advancing bulge in the lines of the Eleventh and shouted at the top of his voice.

“
If
I alone
can shatter your formation, how effortlessly do you think the Gauls will manage?”

Gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb, he dived at the shield wall, where the arc was at its most stretched. Slamming into a legionary’s shield, he punched a hole in the shield wall and fell inside. Moments later the line closed up again, but the point had been made. The advancing arc began to pull itself back into a straight line. A centurion helped Crispus to his feet.

“
Nice one, sir.”

Crispus brushed down his tunic and stood straight, addressing the legionaries in general.

“
Now secure the line with all swiftness and the next man who disobeys his centurion will answer with his head.”

As he began to push his way back through the crowd, he heard the renewed shouts of the centurions to hold the line. Breathing a sigh of relief, he reached the open ground at the rear and nodded briefly to the cornicen.

“
Alright, I’m back. Do I presume that there has been no sign of the cavalry?”

The cornicen shook his head.

Crispus looked around at the horizon and up at the sun. There was indeed no hint of the cavalry ala returning. They had only a couple of hours of light remaining on the battlefield, and he couldn’t wait for the cavalry any longer. The Eleventh were already under great strain. Once more, he gestured for the cornicen to join him.

“
To which cohort do you belong?”

The cornicen nodded toward the rear line of the soldiers.

“
The Ninth Cohort, sir.”

Crispus looked over the heads of the troops.

“
In your opinion, are the four rear cohorts capable of useful action at this juncture?”

The cornicen shook his head.

“
Unless the front breaks, we’re all in reserve sir.”

Crispus nodded. It was a gamble.

“
In that case, have the senior centurions of the four rear cohorts report to me immediately.”

“
Yes sir.”

As the cornicen made his way back across the line, Crispus offered up yet another prayer. To relieve the legion of almost half its number in the current circumstances was dangerous. If this worked, he would save the Eleventh, and possibly the whole army, but if he took four cohorts away and then the front line broke, there wouldn’t be enough support to stop the Gauls from getting through and behind the army.

Four centurions made their way gradually out of the rear ranks and hurried over to the legate.

Crispus cleared his throat.

“
I have new orders for you, gentlemen. I appreciate that what I am about to attempt is a gamble, and that you may not approve, but the orders stand regardless.”

The four centurions looked at each other and back to Crispus, nodding assent.

“
The way should be clear for the Ninth and Tenth Cohort to make their way around the perimeter of the field, keeping out of sight of the Gauls, and to achieve the ridge that the Gauls initially used for cover. I would estimate that you could reach your objective in a little less than one hour. You will need to remain completely hidden, however. If the Gauls are alerted to your presence before you are in position, you will not stand a chance.”