About halfway up the slope of the hill of Gergovia stood an outer wall, constructed as a buffer between it and the walls of the town proper. In the cleared area between the two walls on the slopes was the camp of Vercingetorix's army. The strategic value of the small hill is that it overlooked the stream that fed the river to the south of us that was our water supply. However, that stream was also the water supply for the Gauls in Gergovia, along with their army encampment, so if we could command the heights above the stream we could cut off their water supply, or at least a major source. But Vercingetorix was no fool, and he saw that as well, so in the time he had before we arrived, he put his army to work fortifying the small hill and manning it with warriors. Even from this distance we could see that a wall of some size had been thrown up; our best hope was that it was done hastily, and not constructed like the wall at Avaricum, or we would indeed have our hands full.
“Caesar hasn't decided when and who'll assault that hill, but that’s the first step. So stand ready, because we don’t know when, and we don’t know who he’ll send to take that hill. All we do know is that it’ll happen.”
“I’ll bet 500 sesterces that I know who it’ll be,” called the Hastatus Posterior, Centurion of the Sixth Century, a squat little turd named Felix, reputed to be one of the worst gamblers in the army despite his nickname, a fact that did not dissuade him from wagering on just about anything. Despite his reputation for being unlucky, at gambling at least, he was supposed to be one of the most fearsome fighters in the Legion, and he immediately had several takers on his wager.
“Good thing we just got paid at Avaricum,” laughed Crastinus, “or poor Felix would be so far in debt that he’d be busted back to the ranks.”
For that is yet another regulation in the army; if a Centurion falls into debt over a certain amount and is unable to pay it off, he is subject to discipline. If the money he owes is to his own men, it is even more egregious, and a flogging with the scourge could be ordered. Luckily for Felix, his men loved him too much to do something like report him, which was just as well for his sake, because when the time came, he lost yet another bet.
For several days, we did nothing but watch our cavalry force skirmish with the Gauls. It was decided that a night assault on the hill had the best chance for success, and the moon was waxing full those first nights. Taking this opportunity, we improved the fortifications of our camp, since all indications were that we were in for a long siege, longer than Avaricum by far, and we accepted as an article of faith that we would try to completely encircle the hill, despite it being many miles around. Early in our first year on campaign in Gaul, had we not dug a ditch and built a wall 18 miles long, we reasoned? It seemed to be the only way to contain such a large army here, but still no orders were given to begin the entrenching work. Finally, the first moonless night was about to arrive, and word was sent that it would be the men of the 8th and 9th making the assault, much to the chagrin of Felix and to the joy of all the men who counted on his famous luck, or lack thereof, on holding for at least one more wager. That night we were ordered to stay in our Legion areas, it being customary for the men left behind to gather at the gates to wish the men going on whatever mission luck as they left. On this occasion, however, Caesar did not want to give the slightest hint that anything was different, so instead we sat by the fire, listening to the tramping of boots and clinking of gear as they marched out of the gate. Since there was no way to see how the assault was going, the distance from camp to the hill being a little more than two miles, it was only possible to hear that there was a battle but not how it was going. Therefore, we decided to retire for the night, trusting to our comrades and Caesar that when we awoke, the hill would be ours.
And it was; Caesar and the two Legions were in possession of the hill. Under the cover of darkness they threw up their own fortifications, these facing the opposite direction than the original ones. Immediately on his return to camp, Caesar ordered the digging of two parallel trenches linking the two camps, allowing men to move between the two undetected and protected from any missile or artillery fire. By making two trenches, placed about ten feet apart, we could also allow two-way traffic, or in the event of an emergency, send men up both trenches. It was one thing to dig a simple trench, even if it was really two trenches two miles long apiece, but we soon learned of the calculations that Caesar had made for a complete investment of Gergovia, and it was disheartening to say the least. In order to completely encircle the town and camp of Vercingetorix’s army, we would not only have to surround the hill that the town sat on, but another promontory to the west that Vercingetorix turned into a stronghold, including the saddle between the two heights where part of his army was camped. This translated to the creation of about 12 miles of fortifications, much more complex work than a simple trench, since in Caesar’s army the dimensions of fortifications were different than what other commanders of the recent and historic past had deemed sufficient, which may have added to the strength of the fortification but also meant more work for the men. A ditch three feet wider and five feet deeper may not seem like a lot, but it is just that much more work that has to be done. Add to that the necessity of creating a palisade far in excess of even the largest camp, not to mention that the stakes we used were already part of our marching camp, required more trees to be cut down and stakes fashioned from them, all of a uniform size. Then there were the towers that had to be built and positioned at intervals along the distance of the entrenchments, all within sight of the towers on either side, to allow signals to be passed quickly, along with providing mutual support. Finally, smaller camps for housing the men not standing watch on the walls at any given moment had to be constructed as well, so that they were not forced to spend a significant amount of their time off duty actually moving back and forth between their posts and the main camp. And all this was to be done with just us, the Legionaries; auxiliaries and cavalry are never allowed to perform any of the labor, nor are the slaves who are assigned to the Legion, nor any civilians, slave or free. From a labor standpoint, this meant that Caesar had six Legions; at that time our combined strength was perhaps 25,000 men, give or take a hundred, down from our original strength of more than 35,000 when all of the Legions were at full strength. Years of fighting had been cruel, but so were the illnesses and diseases, along with the injuries and the drunken brawls, whittling us down bit by bit. This was what Caesar had at hand to not only conduct an operation of investment, but also to keep at least one, if not two Legions constantly on alert to a counterattack by the enemy. In short, it was a seemingly impossible task, even for the army of Caesar.
Compounding this problem came what I believe was perhaps the biggest shock that Caesar, and by extension the rest of us, ever received. While Caesar believed, with good cause I might add, that he had resolved the dispute among the Aedui and secured the stability of the tribe that was our staunchest ally, it was not to be. The Aedui rose in revolt, led by none other than the cunnus Convictolitavus, the very man who Caesar had negotiated with the opposing faction to put into the post of Vergobret. But Gauls are Gauls, and if there was ever proof needed, this betrayal is the best example, because Convictolitavus owed the very influence he used to incite a rebellion against the man who gave it to him in the first place. As we would find out later, the faithlessness of Convictolitavus did not come cheaply; Vercingetorix offered him a bribe massive enough that the cunnus could buy off a good number of sub-chiefs to join the cause. It was not all money that persuaded them, however. Apparently a feeling had been growing that perhaps Vercingetorix was indeed the man who could bring Caesar down, and the Aedui were starting to grow concerned that the Arverni, traditional rivals, would then become the most powerful tribe in Gaul, should they be victorious. Convinced that throwing their weight behind Vercingetorix would tip the scales in the favor of the Gauls, the Aedui reasoned, not without some logic, that since they could then claim to be the decisive factor in the defeat of Caesar and Rome, they could at the very least claim equal partnership as dominant tribe with the Arverni. Such was the mindset at least of the man who sounded a call to arms among the Aedui that some 10,000 men answered, and it was the news of this column now approaching from the east that spurred Caesar into sounding an emergency assembly, late in the morning.