Another ten miles had to be covered before we found a suitable site on which to build, and the one blessing was that the surrounding hills possessed enough timber that we did not have to travel much farther in order to supply the building materials. This bridge took longer than the one at the Douro because we had less manpower. The 8th had been left behind more than a month ago; the 7th was besieging Portus Cale, and my Legion was reduced by the three Cohorts we left to guard the route behind us. Meanwhile, Caesar kept all of the ala still with us busy scouting the area in order to provide us with enough warning in the event of any surprise the Lucenses might care to come up with. Once our camp was prepared, and the artillery that came with us was arrayed to provide covering fire against the opposite bank, we immediately set to work on building the bridge. For five days we labored, with our artillery driving off those Gallaeci who came too close. We could not keep what we were doing secret, but we could keep them from doing anything to stop our progress. Some of the auxiliary cavalry had forded the river and stood by to drive off any of the enemy who got too close, or delay an enemy sortie if it came in force. However, for whatever reason, the Gallaeci seemed to be resigned that we would not be denied from crossing the river, an accurate judgment. Once the bridge was completed we marched across, heading back towards the coast and the fortified town. Along the way, we ran into an attempted ambush but brushed it aside with few casualties on our side and heavy losses to the Gallaeci. Nevertheless, it was enough to delay us so that we could not begin an assault on the town until the next day. For what seemed like the hundredth time we found ourselves digging and building a marching camp within sight of a town’s walls. Unlike the other towns, this one was more of a fortress than anything we had seen before, with walls made of stone, as were most of the buildings. It was also on the shelf of an extremely large hill, almost at the top, forcing us to climb up in the face of heavy fire. The truth is that nobody, especially the veterans looked forward to assaulting this place, and the mood was grim as we gathered around our fire that night.
“That's going to be a real bastard to take,” Calienus announced quietly.
Even with the ramparts in the way, we could look past them and see the town spread out on the slope rising toward the crest, perched there as if daring us to attack it. We newer men took a cue from the mood of the veterans, knowing that if they were not enthused about the prospects, we certainly should not be ourselves. Nobody answered him; there was not much to say about it. The town was there, meaning it had to be taken because it had not surrendered and we could not leave its inhabitants in our rear as we marched further north.
We should have had more faith in Caesar, because he immediately saw that the very feature that the Gallaeci were counting on, their position on the side of the hill, was also their biggest weakness. The shelf on which the town was built was perhaps two-thirds up the side of the hill, leaving higher ground above them. The opposite slope of the hill was extremely steep, a feature that the Gallaeci were undoubtedly counting on as being precipitous enough so that nobody would try to climb it in order to take a position above the town. They did not account for Caesar’s determination and imagination, because that is exactly what he did, or we did. Word was sent out among us asking for those men with experience in scaling such slopes, and from our two Legions was assembled an ad hoc group about two Cohorts strong. They were assigned the task of sneaking out of the camp at night, carrying not just extra javelins, but a number of the scorpions and one of the smaller ballistae that was broken down, then stealthily making their way to the back side of the hill. Using the darkness as cover, they scaled the steep slope of the back side, despite losing almost a dozen men who lost their footing and fell to their deaths, dragging the artillery behind them and using ropes to pull the pieces up. About two thirds of the watch before dawn, the rest of us were given the order to assemble in battle array outside our camp, located less than a mile from the town and in clear sight of the Gallaeci standing on the walls looking down on us as the sun rose. They were greeted by the sight of two Legions arrayed for an assault on the town, minus the two mixed Cohorts who were at that moment just getting into position and reassembling the artillery. Meanwhile, the rest of our artillery deployed and were ready to begin the bombardment of the walls to create a breach. The veterans had assured us that, despite the apparent greater strength of a stone wall, it is actually easier to knock it down with artillery than a wooden wall is, because there is no give in the rock, making it more brittle. Despite finding this hard to believe, we had learned to trust their judgment on these matters since they were seldom wrong. From our formation, Caesar sent another Tribune under a flag of truce, except this time with an armed escort, none of us forgetting what happened at the first town. That group approached the walls and began to parley with the Gallaeci in the town. We were ordered to keep our eyes turned on the exchange at the gate; Caesar did not want anything to betray the surprise being prepared above and behind them, since some observant Gallaeci who noticed that our heads were turned to the top of the hill might get suspicious. Still, most of us, myself included, kept our heads turned to the parley, but nevertheless watched the top of the hill out of the corner of our eye.
“There they are,” someone called out, and although it took me a few heartbeats, I saw a group of men, barely more than dots, appear on the crest of the hill followed moments later by larger shapes as they assembled the artillery pieces. Finally one of the men on top of the hill waved what appeared to be a flag as some sort of signal, which the Tribune negotiating with the Gallaeci had obviously been waiting for, because he immediately pointed up to our force on the hill.
The battle for the town was over before it really began. Once the Gallaeci saw our men on top of the hill, with our artillery pointing down at them, they did not even need a couple of projectiles thrown their way to convince them that they were finished. They accepted the terms that the Tribune was offering almost immediately, except they still had one trick to play, as we were about to find out. Regardless of what lay in the immediate future, all of us who were going to be assaulting that town heaved a huge sigh of relief; for once, the idea of survival outweighed the lure of plunder and when the surrender was announced, we all cheered heartily. Meanwhile, the Gallaeci continued haggling with the Tribune about minor details, something the Tribune was too inexperienced to recognize as a ploy. Finally, Caesar grew impatient when none of the enemy came out of the town to surrender, prompting he and his command group to ride over to the Tribune, whereupon Caesar began pointing and gesturing at both the Tribune and the Gallaeci who were still standing on the wall above the gate.