“It’s over, thank the gods,” he whispered, then kissed me on both cheeks.
I returned the gesture, although I had to bend down to do so, which hurt a bit. The rest of my comrades came to surround me, even Didius among them, and without a word we stood huddled together, the tears flowing freely among all of us now. We had survived.
The funeral pyres burned throughout the night and into the next morning, all over the camp. Our casualties were heavy, particularly in the 10th and the 8th Legions, and my Century, First of the Second Cohort, along with the First and Second of the First Cohort, suffered the most. Primus Pilus Favonius had been killed, along with a total of nine Centurions of the 10th, meaning that there would be promotions. By mid-morning, our dead were burned, their ashes interred in the urns that would be sent to each of their families, their designated comrades taking care of their wills and disposing of property as the deceased deemed fit. Before noon, the bucina sounded the signal that a party of Gauls was approaching the camp; it was emissaries of Vercingetorix, offering his surrender. Despite this being expected, the reality of it created a huge amount of excitement and joy, the men congratulating each other, happy in the victory and that they survived it. Soon after, word was passed to assemble in the forum in two thirds of a watch, in full dress uniform, in order to witness the surrender of the leader of the Gauls. This presented a bit of a quandary for me since my armor was pierced and there was no time to have it repaired, nor to clean it, so I sent Vibius over to the quartermaster and although I had to pay a premium, he returned with new armor, already oiled and ready for inspection. He helped me to don it since I was so stiff it was almost impossible to lift my arms over my head. In fact, all of my comrades came to help me, polishing my leathers, shining my phalarae, and combing out my horsehair plume. I had to turn away to hide the tears I felt welling in my eyes at the sight of my friends helping me.
“You know,” Vellusius commented, “you’re probably going to get decorated again.”
I was surprised at this, and asked why he thought so.
“Because you’re such a big bastard, whenever you do anything everyone notices. If you fart you get decorated for it,” Didius declared, yet for some reason, I knew that he was not insulting me, as did the rest of my friends. In fact, this caused a roar of laughter, Vibius slapping Didius on the back in recognition of his jest. I do not know who was grinning more broadly, me or Didius.
“Seriously,” Vellusius continued once the laughter died down, “you were everywhere. You fought like Achilles, and we all saw it.”
There was a chorus of agreement, and if I never got another decoration the rest of my life, I thought, this would be enough. Medals and awards are fine things, but the recognition of one’s friends and comrades is so much finer, it is beyond comparison.
I did not know what to say, and finally all I could manage was a lame, “Well, someone had to do it. You flat-footed bastards were standing around with your thumbs up your asses.”
There was a round of mock jeers at this, and in high spirits, we went to form up for the ceremony.
All in all, it was something of an anti-climax, at least until the very end. Caesar commanded that every chief of the Gallic tribes that took part of the rebellion present themselves to him, while he sat on a raised dais in the forum, surrounded by his Tribunes and Legates, Labienus and Antonius most prominent. I have spoken much of Labienus, but Antonius, over the last two years distinguished himself as well, and the early impression of him as a man’s man and a friend of the Gregarii was reinforced during that time, so we were glad to see him in a place of honor. One by one, the Gallic chiefs approached, riding their horse and dressed in their finest armor, then dismounted and dropped to their knees before Caesar.
Then one of his staff, Hirtius I believe, would announce the name of the chief and the tribe of which he was chief, then ask Caesar, “What would you have of him?”
Most of them were stripped of their chieftainship, although a surprising number were allowed to retain their freedom, causing a bit of muttering in the ranks. At first, it was all very interesting, but once we saw how things were to go, it became quite boring, quite quickly. Finally then, there was only Vercingetorix left, and any boredom we suffered evaporated as he came riding into view. Everyone strained to get a look and once again I found reason to thank the gods not only for my height, but for my place in the First Century, especially since now that I was acting Pilus Prior, my place was in front of the men. I must say that he was an impressive looking man, wearing a helmet of the Gallic style, from which sprouted the wings of a raven. His armor glittered, inlaid with gold and silver, and he wore the long mustaches common to the Gauls, yet even so, it did not conceal his youth. He’s not much older than me, I thought in astonishment, but despite his age, he bore a look of regal command that was clear even from a distance. Mingling with my hatred of him for what he put us through I found myself admiring him as well, because even as he dismounted his horse, a beautiful white stallion, to surrender to Caesar, his bearing carried a dignity that told us all that even though he was surrendering his body, his spirit remained unconquered. Every eye followed him as he walked slowly, with ponderous dignity, towards Caesar, before ever so slowly sinking to his knees, then offering up his sword with both hands, bowing his head as he did.
“Vercingetorix, of the Arverni, self-styled king of the Gauls,” Hirtius intoned with what I felt was unwarranted malicious glee, putting special emphasis on the words “self-styled”.
He was king of all the Gauls, I thought, there was no self-styling about it. Only he was able to unite all but one of the tribes, and nobody before him had done that. As these thoughts went through my mind, I heard angry mutters at my back and I could tell that I was not the only man who felt this way. Despite our anger towards him for causing the death of so many friends, we recognized his greatness, and indeed, by belittling him our victory over him was being diminished. The muttering quickly became mumbling, sweeping through the ranks, and I could see Hirtius’ eyes widen in surprise, our anger and displeasure clear for him to hear. Caesar remained impassive, though I swear I could see the corners of his mouth turn up a bit, as if in approval at our displeasure, which made some sense because it was diminishing his own victory by applying such demeaning terms.
Hirtius hurriedly finished with the “What would you have of him?” and we quieted down.
Caesar did not answer for a moment, and when he did, he spoke so softly that we could not hear, but instantly Caesar’s personal standard bearer dipped it down in front of Vercingetorix, forcing him to kiss it in a symbol of obeisance. Hirtius stepped forward, taking Vercingetorix’s sword from his outstretched hands, then handed it to Caesar, who immediately passed it to another member of his staff.
Standing from his chair, Caesar looked down at Vercingetorix, and announced in his oratorical voice, “Vercingetorix, king of all the Gauls,” his omission of Hirtius’ term was a clear rebuke, and I could see his aide’s face turn bright red, “you have risen in rebellion against Rome. Your rebellion failed, and under the rules of war, you and all of those who followed you into rebellion are now subject to disposition as we, the conquerors see fit. You, Vercingetorix, will accompany me to Rome, to be part of my triumph for the conquest of Gaul. As for your followers, I give your common soldiers, and any wives and children with them to my army, at the rate of one slave per Gregarius, to do with as they please, two for all Optios, and four for all Centurions. The remainder of the common people will be sold in a lot, with the money disbursed among myself and my fellow officers. The noblemen and their families will be allowed to return to their lands, but only after giving oaths of loyalty and surrendering of hostages. That is my judgment.”