Chapter 13- Alesia
We came within sight of the hill that Alesia sits on at the end of the next day. The enemy army managed to retreat in good order and had invested the town. Since Vercingetorix decided to make Alesia his base of operations and his final redoubt some time before, the fortifications at Alesia were well developed, and the Gallic army was working on improving them even as we marched up. Our approach was from the east, and while the hill is not as high as Gergovia, it is at least as steep if not steeper. Unlike Gergovia, there was not a string of hills immediately surrounding the town where we could entrench. Perhaps a mile to the east are two hills, side by side with a narrow valley in between that leads straight to the foot of the hill on which Alesia stands. At the foot of the hill on either side lay two small streams, one on the northern side and one on the southern side. On the other side of Alesia, to the west, lay a relatively flat plain, extending for about three or four miles, and it was on this western side where the Gauls were putting the most effort in improving the defenses by building a stone wall that ran north and south between the two streams. Caesar stopped the army on the northernmost hill on the east side of the town, while he and his staff conducted a reconnaissance as we made camp. The bucina sounded Caesar’s return shortly before dark, and less than a third of a watch later it sounded the signal for all Centurions to report to the Praetorium. Since it was only Scaevola and I left sitting by the officer’s fire, and he was not very good company, I got up to wander around our area, stopping at every fire to chat for a while as we waited to hear what was in our immediate future. The wagering was already started of course, and the best odds were a complete investment of the town.
“It only makes sense,” one of the men of the third section, a swarthy veteran of Pompey’s army named Valens was holding forth at his fire. “Now that Labienus and his four Legions are here, we’re going to be digging like moles in a great big circle all the way around that fucking town.”
“I don’t see it,” argued Crispus, who had been a tiro the same time as us. “I think he’s just going to order us to assault the damn thing and be done with it. It’s been dragging on too long, and Caesar is going to want to end it.”
Naturally, my presence meant that my opinion would be solicited, and Valens turned towards me, confident that I would agree. “Well Optio? What do you say? Are we going to invest the place, or are we going to do what this dunderhead thinks and go charging in like amateurs?”
I had to fight a smile at the way he put it, but the truth was I agreed with him.
“I think you’re right Valens,” I replied, to his cry of glee and Crispus’ moan of disgust.
The way I looked at it, either way I went, I was going to make somebody mad, so I may as well tell them what I thought. But I did not want to sound unreasonable; I was green enough back then that I worried that the men understood where I was coming from. “I think Valens is right, we have four more Legions, and just by eyeballing the place, it’s not as big around as Gergovia was,” I explained, but Crispus was having none of it.
“Then that means that Caesar is willing to stay here through the winter, Optio? I don’t believe that; he wants to get out of here just as much as we all do.”
I nodded. “That may be, but I also think Caesar is going to do what he thinks gives us the best chance to win, and that’s using our engineering skills.”
“You mean our strong backs,” Crispus said miserably.
In that he was right at least; whatever the work, it would be done with our sweat. “Just remember Crispus,” I tried to put a cheerful face on it, “the more you sweat now…”
Before I could finish, the whole section chimed in, “….the less you bleed later.”
“We get it Optio,” concluded Crispus, “but we don’t have to like it.”
I smiled. “I’d be more worried if you did.”
Pilus Prior Pulcher returned and took a seat at our fire, not saying anything for a moment. He chose instead to stare into the flames, the line of his scar in the shadows cast by the fire making him look older. Finally, he looked up and announced, “Well, we’re going to invest the place.”
I was not surprised, so I merely nodded while Scaevola gave a grunt. Over the years I had learned that Scaevola was a simple soul; not very intelligent, but smart enough to know what needed to be done, and absolutely ferocious in a fight, to the point that sometimes it was hazardous being near him, because when he got carried away, he tried to kill anyone within reach.
“That'll make Valens happy at least,” I finally replied, and Pulcher looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I related the conversation we had, and he laughed. “These bastards will bet on anything, won’t they? That’s really why Crispus is mad, not because he has work to do, but because he bet the wrong way.”
His smile disappeared as he continued soberly, “And we’re going to have work to do, right enough. Caesar's decided on a double envelopment, with one set of fortifications turned inwards and another turned out. He’s betting that this is the last stand, so that the Gauls'll do everything they can to keep Alesia from falling, so we need to be ready for an attack from both sides.”
We sat absorbing this, then Scaevola grunted again, this time loudly enough that we knew it was the signal that he was about to say something, a rare enough occasion that we looked at him in some surprise.
“Well, if we finish these bastards here, maybe we can go home.”
Our mild surprise turned to shock; this was the first time I ever heard Scaevola say anything that indicated he had a home other than the army. I glanced at the Pilus Prior, who returned it with a raised eyebrow and slight shrug. “Scaevola, where would such a heartless bastard like you call home other than the army?” the Pilus Prior teased.
“Rome,” Scaevola said quietly, staring into the fire. “The Subura, to be precise. It’s where I was born.”
You could have knocked both of us over with a feather; I had been marching with Scaevola since the Legion was formed, the Pilus Prior a few years less, but still a good stretch of time, and this was the first we ever heard that our standard bearer was born in Rome. First Scribonius, now Scaevola, I thought; will wonders never cease? I knew that he was one of the veterans from Pompey’s Legions salted into our ranks, and once I thought of it, it made sense. It was still a shock, however, but my questions about Rome would have to wait.
I rose and looked to the Pilus Prior. “Shall I tell the men, or do you want to?”
He waved me along, “You do it Pullus. I have some questions for Scaevola about whether all the things I’ve heard about the whores of Rome are true.”
With a laugh, I left to go tell our comrades what awaited them.
“A double investment? Pluto’s thorny cock, that’ll take…..I don’t know, but a long time,” Vibius swore, and I bit back a retort.
Forcing myself to be patient, I replied, “I know it’s a lot of work, but ultimately it’s for our protection.”