“About time is all I can say,” grumbled Vibius, who eyed the hill fort every day, openly worried that our presence would provoke the Gauls inside it to come out to cause us some mischief.
In fact, the opposite was happening, as we would find out shortly, when a Gallic deputation rode out to meet Caesar, not to warn or threaten us but to ask for help. By this time, the Helvetii had passed over the mountains that currently lay to our east and served as the western border of their former lands. Moving through a narrow pass at the northern end of the range, with a detachment of our cavalry trailing to keep an eye on them, the Helvetii were now sweeping back to the south, preparing to cross the Aras River a bit further to our north. They were supposedly a dozen miles away, having commandeered every boat in the area to make a bridge over which they could cross. While Caesar met with his officers and the representatives of the Aedui, Allobroges and Sequani, all of whom had come to us to ask our help with the threat to their lands, we retired back to camp to await further orders. There was an air of excitement crackling through the Legion streets; from our perspective, we were happy to no longer be alone in enemy territory and to be reunited with Caesar, yet we shared the belief with all the other Legions that now that Caesar was here, we would soon be seeing more action.
We were not disappointed. Shortly before dusk, an assembly of the Centurions was called, leaving us to sit by our tents waiting to hear what was going to happen, passing the time in our usual manner of gambling, talking about women and speculating on where we were headed. All of us were sure that we would take off in pursuit of the Helvetii, but what we were not prepared for were the orders the Pilus Prior brought back to break down our tents, pack up and be ready to move by midnight. Caesar was taking ourselves, the 8th and 9th in pursuit of the Helvetii, leaving the other three Legions behind, except he was not content to wait for daybreak, planning instead to steal a march on the Helvetii, making for a hard slog ahead of us. Quickly understanding that the sooner we broke down our gear, packed it up and made ready to move, the more chance we would have of snatching some rest before the appointed time of march, we turned to our tasks with a vengeance. Within two parts of a watch we were done and ready to move, our reward the chance to lie on the now bare ground where our tent had been, using our pack for a pillow, and getting as much sleep as we could. I dropped off immediately, as did almost all of the rest of us; we had all learned by this point the wisdom of sleeping when there was time and eating when there was food because one never knew when the chance for either would come again. Roused shortly before the march was to set out, we were thankful that the sky was clear and the moon, while not completely full, was still bright enough to clearly illuminate the path we were about to take. Even so, when we started out, with the 10th in the lead, we moved with more caution than if it were fully daylight, sending two Centuries ahead instead of the standard one to scout the ground and keep us from falling into ambush. Ahead of the Centuries even farther were the cavalry ala, ranging a mile or two ahead of the advance guard, and it was in this manner that we set out. Caesar ordered strict silence on the march, so we tore strips of spare cloth, wrapping them around the noisier bits of our gear to keep them from clanking together, producing a sound as we marched that none of us had ever really heard before. That night made me realize how one can get accustomed to certain things and accept them as a normal part of their world, but the only time they are noticed is when they are gone. Such was the case with the normal sounds of our march, the only exception being the tramping of our boots, and it was frankly somewhat disturbing, like we were an army of mute spirits marching along. Because of our slower pace, it took us more than a full watch before we pulled close enough to the spot where the Helvetii were crossing that the cavalry ala came galloping back to report to Caesar, marching at the front with Labienus and the other Tribunes in command of the other two Legions, that they had spotted them. Dawn was rapidly approaching, so Caesar wasted no time; we were quickly given the order to draw up into formation, ground our gear and leave it with a rear guard before moving about a half mile further to the north, where we were halted once more. There we were arrayed in a duplexacies, with the Second Cohort anchoring against the banks of the river, the First forming the other end of the first line, and the Third and Fourth between us. We took off the covers of our shield, and were allowed to kneel and wait for the other two Legions to arrive and form the same formation to our right. By the time all this was done, the sky was lightening rapidly, and I realized with a sinking feeling that our chance of total surprise was diminishing as quickly.
“Hurry up you lazy bastards,” I muttered as I peered to my right, barely making out the dark blob of movement that signaled the other Legions hurrying into line.
“Quiet Pullus,” hissed Rufio from just behind me, and I started a bit, not realizing that I had said anything out loud.
Finally, a messenger on horseback came galloping across our front to find Labienus, who was standing with the first line further down the formation. Without being told anything, we came to our feet, hoisted our weapons and prepared to advance.
The order was not long in coming, and we began the approach. There was a line of trees across our path of march that, while performing the service of screening us from the sight of Helvetii sentries, was now an obstacle to be negotiated in the semi-darkness as we moved through. Perhaps even worse than the possibility of tripping was the fact that it is practically impossible to keep a large group of men in any type of alignment while moving through such terrain, since being in alignment during an attack of this nature is absolutely essential. Because of this, after we broke through the line of trees, we would have to halt to reorder the lines, taking even more out of the element of surprise than the dawn would. Once I heard the racket we made as we entered the woods, with men tripping over roots and banging into trees, all worries about alignment fled from my head instantly; there was no way that they could not hear us coming, so it would be a miracle if we even got a chance to get properly aligned. Seeing a patch of light ahead that signaled the end of the small forest as we drew closer, I felt the familiar knot in my stomach tighten, fully expecting that the instant we burst through the trees we would be met by a horde of Helvetian warriors alerted by our clumsiness and now waiting for us like butchers wait on lambs brought to the slaughter. Glancing over, even in the gloom I could see Scribonius’ face tight with worry, and he met my own for a moment before shrugging then looking away, his expression communicating everything either of us needed to know. He was right; nothing could be done about it now, we just would have to make the best of it no matter what the circumstances. Usually, Legionaries do not like being trapped in places like forests; our style of fighting is not suitable for areas where we are confined in such ways, but this was one time that none of us looked forward to exiting what we now regarded as the safety of the trees, convinced that now that the dawn had arrived, coupled with the noise we were making, we were going to meet trouble.