By this time, our supply situation was extremely serious. The army was now down to two days’ rations for both men and animals, and I imagine that there is nothing quite as unsettling as being the commander of a hungry army. Caesar was forced to turn the army north, to march on the Aeduan town of Bibracte, where he knew there would be supplies in abundance. When the Helvetii scouts saw this, they interpreted it as a sign of desperation, which in a sense it was, so they in turn reversed their march to intercept us. Making camp for the night on the banks of a river, the next morning we broke camp to begin the day’s march, none of us in the ranks suspecting what was about to take place. Still headed north, following the river, we had not gotten far when there was a flurry of commotion as horsemen went racing up the side of the column looking for Caesar. The Helvetii had been sighted coming back east down the valley to intercept us, prompting Caesar to make one of those instant decisions for which he is rightly famous. Rather than continuing the march, knowing that we could march faster than the Helvetii and thereby escape them, he ordered an about turn, dispatching a unit of cavalry to go back to harass the Helvetii while he maneuvered the rest of the army into the position that he wanted. For our part, it meant that we had to reverse our course, which is fine if you are the rear Legion in that day’s march, but the baggage train is a bit of an obstacle for everyone else. It immediately became clear that we would have to bypass the baggage train in some way, so we cut out over the open ground, foregoing the relative comfort of what passed for a road, marching over rough ground until we were directed by Labienus to turn to the west, where we were shaken from column to line. Forming up so that the 10th was on the right, the other three Legions were arrayed to our left. Marching west, we tramped over the prominent hill that we could see even from the river. Once we crested it, we spotted the vast army of the Helvetii, already in the process of forming up, a few miles across the valley floor. Caesar ordered the two new Legions to stay behind to guard the baggage, using the hill we had just climbed as the rallying point where they would build a barrier of some sort. The rest of us were ordered to march down the slope of the hill a way before we were stopped, then further deployed into the aciestriplex. While we did this, we watched as Caesar and the command group met at the front of the army to pass his orders.
“There sure are a lot of those bastards.” Calienus voiced what we were all thinking.
It is one thing to see a mass of people on the march and realize that a good number of them are warriors, but not until they were actually arrayed before us did we realize just how many there actually were. The Helvetii were in what can only loosely be called a formation; it looked to me more of a grouping of clans or tribes, all of them dressed in whatever armor they could each provide themselves, the metal glinting in the sun. Too far away at this point to make out individuals, it was a silver-black mass that spread out in front of us, on lower ground. In their way was our cavalry, trying to delay their advance while we formed up, and our boys were clearly getting the worst of it.
Our examination was interrupted by an exclamation by Romulus. “Looks like it’s win or die, boys,” he called out, and we looked where he was pointing. The command group had all dismounted, including Caesar, who donned his helmet and stood, along with the Tribunes and his staff, as the slaves took the horses to the rear.
“That’s for us,” Calienus commented, just loud enough for us to hear. “He’s letting us know that he’s not going to cut and run no matter what happens.”
My heart thumped more strongly in my chest as the words of Calienus sunk in. Here was a man I could follow, a man we could all follow to the gates of Hades and back if he asked it of us.
Our cavalry was quickly brushed aside, the only obstacle left after that the bodies of men and horses that the Helvetii had to step or climb over as they came at us. They flowed over the dead like a black mass of water, drawing close enough that we could now make out individuals, although we still could not see their faces. Despite the rush, Caesar had managed to place us on superior ground, with the Helvetians forced to climb a fairly steep slope to get to us, where the pitch of the ground would give us more momentum when we began our countercharge. Standing silently, watching them come, the sound of their voices screaming their war cries rolled over us in waves. Suddenly, without any order given, someone began a rhythmic tapping of his javelin against the metal rim of his shield, and it was quickly picked up by the men around him, spreading throughout the ranks, first with our Legion, then with the other three, until the sound went rolling down the slope in a challenge to the roar of the Helvetians. As if running into an invisible wall the Helvetian advance checked, the front ranks crashing to a halt as our response to their cries rolled over them, and now that we could see their faces, there was fear and uncertainty there as they were confronted not by the passionate roar of men consumed in bloodlust but the cold, measured sound of an army of professionals, men who viewed what was to come with a detached sense of duty. These warriors had never seen anything like this; they earned their experience and their scars fighting men like themselves, men who worked themselves into a frenzy, fighting with a passion that, while it ran hot, also spent itself quickly. What stood before them up that hill was unlike anything most of them had ever faced and it stopped them in their tracks, if only for a moment, and they stood there as if uncertain what to do as we waited for them. Then they began to build their courage back up, their voices growing in volume and anger again, the momentary lapse of courage forgotten. At least so they hoped, I thought, as I watched them perform their strange rituals once again. Before they resumed the advance, men would dart out from their lines, brandishing their weapons, screaming at us and despite the fact we could not understand what they were saying, it was clear they were describing what they would do to each and every one of us. As we would learn from prisoners, it was their custom for the men to give their lineage, the feats of their ancestors along with their own, so their enemy could know exactly what fate awaited them, all of which was lost on us.
“They are some excitable bastards, aren’t they?
Rufio grinned at my remark, replying, “I just wish they would hurry up and get on with it. I’m getting bored standing here.”
Feeble joke it may have been, it was nevertheless appreciated and our laughter, even if somewhat forced, was hearty and loud. The Centuries around us looked over to see what the joke was about, prompting Rufio to repeat it for their ears, and a wave of laughter rippled through the Cohort.