“The more of these bastards you kill, the less slaves there'll be, and the less money for your own purses, you idiots.” Pilus Prior Crastinus was repeating this over and over as he trotted around, bashing us with his vitus to emphasize his point, but it still took quite some time before the slaughter and rape stopped. The surviving Gallaeci were rounded up and put under guard, where they sat on the ground, watched by a Cohort, the women wailing, the children crying and the men who survived staring at us with undisguised hatred. None of them held any illusions about their fate; they were headed to the slave markets around the Republic, where children would be separated from their parents, husbands from their wives, and families split asunder to feed our insatiable need for slaves. The “lucky” ones would be sent to some household somewhere, and in all likelihood actually live a better life than they had now, although I could understand how they would not see it that way. However, they chose to revolt against Rome, and by doing so, sealed their fate. I was finding that the more I was exposed to this type of misery, the less I was affected by it.
There was now just one island left, north of the fort we had just taken. It was a much larger island and less hilly, so the fortifications on it were more elaborate, with the garrison and people sheltering within its walls in much larger numbers than the first fort. In fact, their works gave every appearance of having been in place for some time, and that the Gallaeci had made even more improvements to the fortifications after their arrival. For example, there was a double wall now instead of a single one, with a defensive ditch in between, sown with a number of obstacles. The outer wall had wooden towers at intervals along it, with sloping roofs and firing slits, making knocking them out difficult, while the inner wall surrounded a low hill that was the dominant feature of the island, and it was within the second wall that all of the defenders and their families were located. The rumor was that there were more than 5,000 warriors, along with another 15,000 people within the fortification, and these numbers did not make us feel any better. Add to that the fact that this was their last bastion and would be the site of their last stand meant that all the signs added up to a very bloody fight indeed. Our casualties during the assault on the first island were extraordinarily light, but we harbored no illusions that we would be that lucky this time. Both Legions still with Caesar would take part in the assault, attacking in two prongs. The 10th would approach from the south, from the general direction of the first island, with the 9th coming from the east, directly across the bay. The news that we would be attacking from the direction of the first island was met with a lot of muttered complaints since it meant that we had a good distance to go. Distance between the two islands was around ten miles, but even cutting at an angle between the two islands before turning north, we would still be in the water for almost two full watches, a prospect that none of us viewed with any enthusiasm. One blessing was that the weather had broken, with clear skies and calm seas; we could only pray to the gods to make sure that it stayed that way. Another difficulty was that we needed more boats, since this was going to be a two Legion assault and one of the original boats had gotten too damaged by the rough water. Although we avoided losing any men, the boat itself had to be scrapped, so one more week would be spent building more boats, during which the weather could change again. Every morning we woke up scanning the skies with a worried eye, hoping that our luck would not run out, also knowing that Caesar was not likely to delay even if it did. After all, we took the first fort in horrible conditions with minimal loss, so why would he delay a second time? So we cut down trees and dragged them back to the beach, not bothering to hide our intentions this time, sawing, hammering and sweating so that after another week, we had a second fleet of flat-bottomed boats. Instead of using Legionaries to row this time, the Gallaeci men captured in the first assault were pressed into service and forced to row us to kill their comrades and kin. Despite myself, I found I had some sympathy for these men; it must be a terrible fate indeed to be forced to help in the destruction of your people.
The day of the assault dawned with much rejoicing and prayers of thanks that the weather dawned sunny, clear and calm. In fact, the surface of the water was barely rippled, looking almost as placid as the surface of a small lake. For reasons known only to Caesar, he had decided not to use the same tactic of a night assault; Calienus guessed that it had something to do with the distance that the 10th was going to have to cover, which made sense to us. Even with clear weather, several miles of water is a long distance, and much could go wrong. The Gallaeci had not helped; at night, they restricted their fires to the lower parts of the fort, not up on the hill, so it was almost impossible to see the lights from any distance. Therefore at dawn we piled aboard the boats, once again cursing our fate and grumbling about how we were not made to spend time on water. Setting out, despite the calm waters I found my stomach rebelling, so that before long I was again standing at the gunwales with some of my other comrades, launching my breakfast into the ocean. Those men with stronger constitutions jeered at us but we were too miserable to take offense. With the island just a black line barely visible on the horizon, we soon grew bored watching it and willing it to grow larger with every stroke, so instead we began our normal routines of gambling, gossiping and complaining. Sitting with my back against the side of the boat, I watched my comrades, and despite the seasickness and apprehension of the coming battle, I felt my heart swell with a kind of pride that comes when one has a sense of truly belonging to something greater than oneself. I smiled as Romulus and Remus bickered about something that had happened months before; Scribonius and Vellusius were playing their own game of dice; Calienus and Rufio were having a contest trying to see who could balance their dagger on the tip of their finger the longest. Vibius had found a spot where he could stretch out and was laying with his face up to the sun, smiling contentedly as he soaked up the warmth and nourishment of the sun’s rays. Despite the fact that we were about to throw ourselves into another type of contest, where the stakes were much, much higher, I realized that there was no place on earth that I would rather be than in this boat, with these men. And there is no amount of money that a man can possess that is worth that feeling.
Finally, after what was a little less than a full watch, we got close enough that the signal was given to the 9th to begin their crossing, since they were required to wait for some time before starting. The plan was that we would arrive at the fort at the same time, although we were going to land at the southern end of the island, about a mile away from the fort. In order for this to work, we had to be almost to our landing point before the signal was given to the 9th to proceed. Once more I was assigned to help carry the artillery, except this time I would actually have to lug it across the sand. There was only one problem; there was no sand. Rowing closer to the southern end of the island, we passed by a smaller island that was deserted and had blocked our view of the larger island.