All in all, things felt lighter and clearer now and Balbus planned to get Aulus Crispus and Servius Galba, the newly installed legates of the Eleventh and Twelfth, to a get-together. He had discussed them with Fronto yesterday and they had come to the conclusion that the two new legates had been treated as inferiors by Crassus, while Fronto, Balbus and Longinus hadn’t offered them much support. They should be treated as full legates, in order to help them gain the respect of the troops. He had only met Crispus, a fair haired and tall young man with a fixed, serious expression, and Galba, a stocky man in his mid twenties with a barrel chest and a permanent five o’clock shadow, a few times and was consequently unsure of their talent, though they had carried out their duties adequately during the journey from Geneva.
Balbus smiled and, looking ahead at the rear ranks of the Tenth, saw the horseman coming along the line toward them. With a nod to his primus pilus, Balbus trotted his horse out of the line and off to the grass by the side of the dirt road. In minutes the rider, one of Caesar’s staff officers, reached him.
“Legate, the general requests that you move the Eighth out at double speed to the right and onto the grass verge. Keep your column length and formation as it is now, but move forward and form up alongside the Tenth. Longinus has reported a sizeable force of barbarians off the road about six miles ahead. The other four legions will be pulling forward and moving three abreast directly behind you. The baggage trains and siege wagons will be placed between your two legions and the other four to protect them from raiders.”
The officer pointed off ahead and into the distance.
“Can you see that tall hill with the double point to the right?”
Balbus nodded.
“That’s where they are at the moment. We’ll have to pass quite close to them and they’ll almost certainly try to use both surprise and the advantage of height to hit us hard and fast. Thanks to the cavalry we’ll be prepared. The Eighth and the Eleventh can hold the centre, with the Seventh and Twelfth behind them. The Tenth will move ahead at the last minute and turn the flank on them, as will the Ninth from the rear. We’ll have them between the horns of the bull, and Longinus will bring his cavalry in from behind to trap them. Are you in agreement?”
Once more, Balbus nodded.
“We’ll hold the centre well enough; the men are itching for more action. A good plan, I think. The general’s determined not to play the defensive game any more, isn’t he?”
With a grim smile, the staff officer wheeled his horse and cantered off along the line in the direction of the Eleventh.
Balbus pulled his horse in alongside his primus pilus.
“Centurion, send word down the line. We’re moving at double pace and pulling out to the right alongside the Tenth. The Gauls are coming and I’ll give you the details once we’re in our allocated position.”
The primus pilus saluted and began to bellow orders out to the troops following him. In less than five minutes the entire legion was moving out beside the Fronto’s unit. The officers and men of the Tenth cheered them on as they ran past, armour clinking and crashing, dust clouds filling the air.
Balbus saw Fronto on the hill to the right hand side of the saddle, standing next to his horse and watching the legions move with his hand to his brow, shading his eyes from the glaring sun. Knowing that he had a little over five minutes until the Eighth were in position, Balbus rode up the grassy slope to meet the other legate.
“Balbus. Come to watch the fun?”
The older man swung himself off the horse and, holding the reins, stood next to Fronto.
“Nice day for it.”
He looked down from the slope and saw the legions moving. The manoeuvre was so slick and fluid, it resembled a choreographed dance. The Eighth were moving alongside the Tenth at double speed. The wagons were already moving toward their allocated space in the centre with and the various auxiliary units gathered around them as guards. The Seventh, Eleventh and Twelfth were moving up at double speed to march just behind the carts, and Longinus’ Ninth, again under the command of Grattius, held back to play rearguard. The dust cloud was increasing in size and density by the minute. The organisation had to be completed now. If the manoeuvres were carried out in sight of the enemy, they would know they had lost the element of surprise and the plan wouldn’t work.
Balbus looked down at the centre and a thought struck him. “Fronto, I presume the Scorpions will be in place with each legion, but do you think the four Ballistae that’ll be at the centre will fire from the top of the carts?”
Fronto scratched his chin.
“I remember some trials we had when I was with the Ninth in Spain. The Ballista would work, but the cart needs to be fairly well anchored, and the crew would have to be protected by a shield wall on the top. We tried firing an onager from a cart once, but the movement of firing threw the cart over forwards. My advice would be to put baggage carts on either side of the Ballista carts. It would give it better stability and allow a base for a number of soldiers to protect the crew.”
He turned and grinned at Balbus.
“It would certainly frighten the hell out of the enemy.”
Balbus smiled back.
“We’d have to keep them covered with tent leather until the last minute, of course, and not fire them until the flanking legions are in place, or the game would be up.”
Fronto straightened and stretched his shoulders.
“I think I’ll pop back to the Command unit and have a little word with Caesar. Would you like to arrange that little surprise? I hear your siege crews were rather good at the lakeshore, so let’s give them the opportunity to show off a little.”
The barbarians were not Helvetii, but their local allies, though at first glance Fronto couldn’t tell the difference. A confederation of the Centrones, Graioceli and Caturiges, the Gauls came rushing down the hill like a landslide. There were several thousand of them and, with the advantage of charging downhill and a falsely perceived element of surprise on their side, they closed the gap with the Roman column in surprising time. The Gauls had forsaken the mounted element of their army, which would be dangerous to both their riders and the rest of the army when manoeuvring down such a slope, just their few chieftains remaining on horseback and carefully navigating the terrain.
The legates were well primed for the onslaught, however, and the barbarian cries of rage and victory soon turned to shouts of alarm as the Ninth and Tenth Legions came around like closing doors, boxing the charging Gauls in. There was precious little the attackers could do, their momentum carrying them inevitably forward and into the waiting arms of Caesar’s army.
The legions were a lot more prepared than they had initially appeared. By the time the Gauls were a hundred yards from the lines of the Seventh and the Eighth, the front ranks had locked themselves into a shield wall. Their javelins were raised to shoulder height and, at fifty yards, cast. A thousand javelins rained down into the mass of Gauls, causing chaos and panic. At the same time, though a few of the barbarians had managed to peel off and engage the enfolding arms of the Ninth and Tenth, the javelins cast from their ranks kept the confused mass moving generally forward.
By the time the Gauls had begun to reorganise themselves, the army pouring over the bodies of their own dead, they were entirely within the enfolding ‘U’ shape of Caesar’s bull-horn formation. The Gauls hit the front ranks of the legions like a steamroller, buckling the shield wall in a number of places, though failing to punch through it. In the intervening moments, the legions had drawn their short, thrusting swords and began their bloody and efficient business.
The butchery at the front caused panic to ripple through the ranks of the Gauls. The rear of the barbarian army began to stumble and drift apart, some of the Gauls turning and attempting to flee the field. Within minutes, they were a mess; the front ranks fighting for their lives, unable to retreat or manoeuvre due to the press of their own army at their back and the tightly packed legions to each side. The centre of the mass pushed this way and that, confused and able to reach neither enemy nor safety. The rear of the army was now in full retreat, staggering up the steep slope as fast as they could.