Caesar Triumphant- Chapter 7
Caesar had arrived in time.....barely. Although Titus Pullus never ordered the orbis, it had been a close-run thing, and his Legion was badly hurt. A little more than a quarter of his men were unwounded; of the rest, there was almost a Cohort's worth of men seriously wounded enough that they would be immobilized for days, if not weeks. The rest of Caesar's army had suffered relatively light casualties; he had moved with his customary speed and the Wa were completely unprepared for the swift savagery of a Caesarian attack. The men of the relief force had been ordered to drop their packs and move from column into line, a maneuver that was practiced over and over during the winters, and that drill paid off as the Legions of Caesar slammed into the undefended Wa rear. Just a veritable handful of the Wa had become aware of the threat coming up from behind, but they were too few in number, and were brushed aside as the Legions roared their battle cry. The attack devastated the Wa, the slaughter of the rear ranks immense, forcing the Wa army to reel backward from the walls of the 10th's camp. Those Wa who had made it into the camp itself, through one of the several breaches, were surrounded and quickly overwhelmed, no support or reinforcements coming through the breaches. In fact, for the first time, more than just one or two Wa warriors were captured alive, although they had yet to talk. But Caesar was grimly determined that they would, counting on the experience and imagination of the men of his torture detachment, which had swelled in number and techniques picked up in his march across Asia. From Parthia came a couple men well versed in their techniques; from the Pandya another man, and from the Han an even half-dozen men who Zhang had recommended. Caesar wasn't a cruel man, although this last 10 years had hardened him even more than either Gaul or the civil war with Pompey had, but he also understood the need for good intelligence to a commander, and would stop at nothing to get it. No matter how much flesh had to be stripped from a man, or blood spilled.
Now, Caesar faced a dilemma. There was no way that he could move for the next several days; too many men, good, hard veterans all, would die if they were disturbed from their recovery. Fortunately, the Wa army besieging the camp did not try defending the town that was located just two or three miles from the 10th's camp, allowing Caesar's army to fall on it. This time most of the citizens had managed to flee, and the few left behind were too old or sick to be of any value and were put to the sword. More important than the slaves was the cache of food and supplies that the town yielded, although when compared with the vast amount that his army ate, it was enough for perhaps a week at most. Still, that was a week of food that he didn't have before. What concerned him was that his lack of mobility meant that the Wa army besieging Pullus' camp could retreat without being harried, and even worse, could meet up with more Wa. More than anything, not knowing what he was facing was what ate at Caesar and kept him awake at night. But it couldn't be helped; giving orders that the 10th's camp be enlarged to accommodate the rest of the army, he settled down to let his wounded recover enough to resume the march.
However, the other facet of the situation he found himself in that worried him was whether or not he would have the army return to the fleet to resume their sea voyage. In the first days after the battle with the 10th, his answer to that was an absolute affirmative, but a week after the battle, and just two or three days before they were to pack up and march back to the sea and the fleet, some of Caesar's scouts had returned with news. As was his usual custom in territory he didn't know, Caesar sent his scouts in every direction, both to get a better idea of the land through which they were marching, but also to avoid stumbling into another army. But the news that the scouts he sent to the south brought had upset his plans of marching back to the fleet because they informed him that Caesar's army was encamped in the middle of the neck of a peninsula that extended an approximate 70 miles to the south from their position. That was bad enough, but the scouts he had sent to the east returned and from their information he was able to piece together a fairly solid idea that this peninsula was more than 50 miles wide as well. Calling on Lysandros, now the ranking navarch with the navy, Caesar was informed that to march the 15 miles back to the fleet, board then sail around the peninsula would take more than a week. Or he could march overland across the neck of the peninsula and rejoin the fleet on the other side. This is what he and the army had done on the Gayan Peninsula, although it had been much wider and longer, making it a month without contact with the fleet. The difference of course was that there was no resistance met on the Gayan Peninsula. It didn't take Caesar long to make the decision. "We're marching overland from here because I've been informed that we're located at the top of a large peninsula," Caesar announced to the assembled officers. "According to our best calculations, it would take us more than a week to cover the same distance that we can make in two hard days."There wasn't much comment at this; as usual the clerks in the praetorium had told their friends among the Legion clerks, who in turn had told their respective Centurions. The only question was, "When do we break camp?" Titus Pullus asked, thinking of the men who would be consigned to the jolting, bouncing wagons. None of the original wagons that started the campaign into Parthia now ten years ago, survived. In their place was, like the naval fleet, a mishmash assortment of carts and wagons, many of them only covered with tarpaulins stretched over wooden frames, a trick picked up along the way. Unlike the wooden structures on wheels that were the original Roman wagons these, while not as durable, were lighter overall, meaning they could carry more cargo. However, the wagons designated for medical transport were the sturdiest of the bunch, but another refinement was that the men were actually slung from vertical poles within the wagon, which reduced the jarring impact a great deal, although not altogether. Pullus knew from bitter experience that about ten percent of the men that survived the first two crucial days, would end up dying on the way, their final resting place an unmarked grave on the side of the trail. The only blessing, Pullus thought, was that so few Romans were left this was no longer the huge problem it had been early on, in Parthia, the Roman belief that anyone buried underground was destined to walk the world as a shade no longer as prevalent in the ranks as it had been. "Two days from now," was Caesar's answer. "Those men who were fated to die will have done so by then, and those fated to recover will be strong enough to endure the march."With that, the officers were dismissed to pass the word to their men.
Just as Caesar had promised, two days later the army left behind the smoking ruin of the camp, accompanying the still-smoldering ruins of the town to trail smoke into the sky. Marching in the agmentum quadratum, with the baggage train protected in the middle, this guaranteed the army would move more slowly than normal, but it also provided greater security. And what bothered Caesar more than any other challenge facing his army was the disappearance of the Wa army. His scouts had followed the trail as the Wa moved eastward as well, but after crossing a river, the tracks seemed to disperse in every direction, leaving too many different trails to follow. Caesar knew in his bones that this was a ruse, and that this army would recombine at some point. His hope was that it didn't join up with yet another Wa force before he could come to grips with it. The men were exceptionally alert; their experience with the Wa so far had been singularly unsatisfying, resulting in far more casualties and less loot than they had experienced in some time. At the same time, they were extremely morose and sullen, the normal bantering on the march completely absent. This too, Caesar was acutely aware of, and he knew that unless he was able to provide them with something substantial in terms of a city or a fortified position holding what passed for a nobleman, he would face the biggest challenge of the campaign.
For the first time, Titus Pullus was really questioning Caesar's decision to continue the march. He wasn't willing to talk about it with Scribonius or Balbus at this point, but he was close to a point where he wouldn't be able to keep his reservations inside. And Pullus knew that if he himself felt this way, that the men were simmering with resentment. Caesar had always come up with something before, but this time was more important than ever. There either had to be a decisive battle, or they had to come across a city with loot enough to appease the men. Little did Pullus know that Caesar's and his thoughts were on parallel tracks, and neither knew what the future held.
The gods hadn't forgotten their favorite son, however. It was the first night on the march that a member of the torture detachment, a grizzled former gladiator named Prixus reported to the praetorium. He was allowed in immediately, Caesar giving orders to that effect, and in moments he was standing in front of his general. "We need your man Zhang," Prixus told Caesar after the formalities were observed. Caesar noticed but didn't comment on Prixus' hands, swollen and battered despite the fact Caesar knew these men always wore linen wrappings on their hands when they did their work. "We have two of these bastards ready to talk." Caesar leapt up from behind his desk, but even as he was moving, Prixus added a warning, "He needs to hurry. I don't know how long either of them are going to last."Fortunately, they lasted long enough to tell Caesar more about the island of Wa than he had learned in all of the previous time he was on the island. For the first time Caesar knew the general shape and size of the island, and more importantly the location of the largest cities, and most importantly, that in the capital city, still weeks away to the east, the alarm had been sounded and a huge army was being formed to come repel the invaders. One tidbit Caesar found grimly amusing; one of the Wa continually used a word that Caesar had never heard. When he asked Zhang, the Han was reluctant to translate it, and then when he finally did, it meant nothing. Until it had gone through the laborious process of going through the Pandya-Parthian-Greek nexus. All of the translators were shocked when Caesar threw back his head and roared with laughter. When Hirtius and Pollio heard the long unheard sound of their general laughing, they quite naturally came running. "You know what the word the Wa use to describe us means?" Caesar asked between gasps. Without waiting for an answer he finished, "Barbarians! They call US barbarians! The same thing we call them!" Once over his bout of mirth, he told the two, "Sound the assembly. I want to let the men know exactly where we're going, and exactly what we can expect to find when we get there."
All posts by R.W. Peake on blog.rwpeake.com are copyrighted by the author, 2012.
Now, Caesar faced a dilemma. There was no way that he could move for the next several days; too many men, good, hard veterans all, would die if they were disturbed from their recovery. Fortunately, the Wa army besieging the camp did not try defending the town that was located just two or three miles from the 10th's camp, allowing Caesar's army to fall on it. This time most of the citizens had managed to flee, and the few left behind were too old or sick to be of any value and were put to the sword. More important than the slaves was the cache of food and supplies that the town yielded, although when compared with the vast amount that his army ate, it was enough for perhaps a week at most. Still, that was a week of food that he didn't have before. What concerned him was that his lack of mobility meant that the Wa army besieging Pullus' camp could retreat without being harried, and even worse, could meet up with more Wa. More than anything, not knowing what he was facing was what ate at Caesar and kept him awake at night. But it couldn't be helped; giving orders that the 10th's camp be enlarged to accommodate the rest of the army, he settled down to let his wounded recover enough to resume the march.
However, the other facet of the situation he found himself in that worried him was whether or not he would have the army return to the fleet to resume their sea voyage. In the first days after the battle with the 10th, his answer to that was an absolute affirmative, but a week after the battle, and just two or three days before they were to pack up and march back to the sea and the fleet, some of Caesar's scouts had returned with news. As was his usual custom in territory he didn't know, Caesar sent his scouts in every direction, both to get a better idea of the land through which they were marching, but also to avoid stumbling into another army. But the news that the scouts he sent to the south brought had upset his plans of marching back to the fleet because they informed him that Caesar's army was encamped in the middle of the neck of a peninsula that extended an approximate 70 miles to the south from their position. That was bad enough, but the scouts he had sent to the east returned and from their information he was able to piece together a fairly solid idea that this peninsula was more than 50 miles wide as well. Calling on Lysandros, now the ranking navarch with the navy, Caesar was informed that to march the 15 miles back to the fleet, board then sail around the peninsula would take more than a week. Or he could march overland across the neck of the peninsula and rejoin the fleet on the other side. This is what he and the army had done on the Gayan Peninsula, although it had been much wider and longer, making it a month without contact with the fleet. The difference of course was that there was no resistance met on the Gayan Peninsula. It didn't take Caesar long to make the decision. "We're marching overland from here because I've been informed that we're located at the top of a large peninsula," Caesar announced to the assembled officers. "According to our best calculations, it would take us more than a week to cover the same distance that we can make in two hard days."There wasn't much comment at this; as usual the clerks in the praetorium had told their friends among the Legion clerks, who in turn had told their respective Centurions. The only question was, "When do we break camp?" Titus Pullus asked, thinking of the men who would be consigned to the jolting, bouncing wagons. None of the original wagons that started the campaign into Parthia now ten years ago, survived. In their place was, like the naval fleet, a mishmash assortment of carts and wagons, many of them only covered with tarpaulins stretched over wooden frames, a trick picked up along the way. Unlike the wooden structures on wheels that were the original Roman wagons these, while not as durable, were lighter overall, meaning they could carry more cargo. However, the wagons designated for medical transport were the sturdiest of the bunch, but another refinement was that the men were actually slung from vertical poles within the wagon, which reduced the jarring impact a great deal, although not altogether. Pullus knew from bitter experience that about ten percent of the men that survived the first two crucial days, would end up dying on the way, their final resting place an unmarked grave on the side of the trail. The only blessing, Pullus thought, was that so few Romans were left this was no longer the huge problem it had been early on, in Parthia, the Roman belief that anyone buried underground was destined to walk the world as a shade no longer as prevalent in the ranks as it had been. "Two days from now," was Caesar's answer. "Those men who were fated to die will have done so by then, and those fated to recover will be strong enough to endure the march."With that, the officers were dismissed to pass the word to their men.
Just as Caesar had promised, two days later the army left behind the smoking ruin of the camp, accompanying the still-smoldering ruins of the town to trail smoke into the sky. Marching in the agmentum quadratum, with the baggage train protected in the middle, this guaranteed the army would move more slowly than normal, but it also provided greater security. And what bothered Caesar more than any other challenge facing his army was the disappearance of the Wa army. His scouts had followed the trail as the Wa moved eastward as well, but after crossing a river, the tracks seemed to disperse in every direction, leaving too many different trails to follow. Caesar knew in his bones that this was a ruse, and that this army would recombine at some point. His hope was that it didn't join up with yet another Wa force before he could come to grips with it. The men were exceptionally alert; their experience with the Wa so far had been singularly unsatisfying, resulting in far more casualties and less loot than they had experienced in some time. At the same time, they were extremely morose and sullen, the normal bantering on the march completely absent. This too, Caesar was acutely aware of, and he knew that unless he was able to provide them with something substantial in terms of a city or a fortified position holding what passed for a nobleman, he would face the biggest challenge of the campaign.
For the first time, Titus Pullus was really questioning Caesar's decision to continue the march. He wasn't willing to talk about it with Scribonius or Balbus at this point, but he was close to a point where he wouldn't be able to keep his reservations inside. And Pullus knew that if he himself felt this way, that the men were simmering with resentment. Caesar had always come up with something before, but this time was more important than ever. There either had to be a decisive battle, or they had to come across a city with loot enough to appease the men. Little did Pullus know that Caesar's and his thoughts were on parallel tracks, and neither knew what the future held.
The gods hadn't forgotten their favorite son, however. It was the first night on the march that a member of the torture detachment, a grizzled former gladiator named Prixus reported to the praetorium. He was allowed in immediately, Caesar giving orders to that effect, and in moments he was standing in front of his general. "We need your man Zhang," Prixus told Caesar after the formalities were observed. Caesar noticed but didn't comment on Prixus' hands, swollen and battered despite the fact Caesar knew these men always wore linen wrappings on their hands when they did their work. "We have two of these bastards ready to talk." Caesar leapt up from behind his desk, but even as he was moving, Prixus added a warning, "He needs to hurry. I don't know how long either of them are going to last."Fortunately, they lasted long enough to tell Caesar more about the island of Wa than he had learned in all of the previous time he was on the island. For the first time Caesar knew the general shape and size of the island, and more importantly the location of the largest cities, and most importantly, that in the capital city, still weeks away to the east, the alarm had been sounded and a huge army was being formed to come repel the invaders. One tidbit Caesar found grimly amusing; one of the Wa continually used a word that Caesar had never heard. When he asked Zhang, the Han was reluctant to translate it, and then when he finally did, it meant nothing. Until it had gone through the laborious process of going through the Pandya-Parthian-Greek nexus. All of the translators were shocked when Caesar threw back his head and roared with laughter. When Hirtius and Pollio heard the long unheard sound of their general laughing, they quite naturally came running. "You know what the word the Wa use to describe us means?" Caesar asked between gasps. Without waiting for an answer he finished, "Barbarians! They call US barbarians! The same thing we call them!" Once over his bout of mirth, he told the two, "Sound the assembly. I want to let the men know exactly where we're going, and exactly what we can expect to find when we get there."
All posts by R.W. Peake on blog.rwpeake.com are copyrighted by the author, 2012.
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