Caesar Triumphant- Chapter 8 (Cont.)

Just as Pullus had predicted, it took the Wa almost a full
watch before they were in what was apparently their battle formation, and at
first, it appeared that the Wa commander was going to behave precisely as
Caesar had expected him to. There hadn't been any real shift in terms of the
numbers, so that the same size Wa force was now aligned roughly even with the
base of the northernmost camp, giving every indication that they would make a
straightforward assault. Elsewhere, smaller groups of Wa, but still in
contingents that looked to be about 10,000 men in strength, lined themselves up
across from each of the five Roman camps. What Caesar couldn't see was beyond
the camp to his left, to the rest of the southernmost positions that ended in
an almost identical position to the south. While he could just make out the Wa
camps that were roughly aligned just like the others, he could only tell there
was movement by the large clouds of dust from the closest camp, and because the
mounted couriers were galloping back and forth. However, even with the road
that Caesar had the men cut along the top of the ridge, it would be at least a
sixth part of a watch before he could expect to be informed by a courier, and
that was only if he rode hard and the horse didn't founder. That was why, as
soon as the Wa had begun making their own camps, he had sent Asinius Pollio to
the southern position. He needed a man he could trust, even though he felt in
his bones that there would be no major attack on the southernmost camp. He also
had a group of couriers stationed along the ridge road, at each camp, where
they would act as relay riders, taking the message to the next so he would be
informed as quickly as possible in the event he was wrong. His reasoning was
simple; the northern pass was closest to where he had been told the capital lay
to the northwest, and he didn't think that any commander would risk
concentrating his forces in such a way that if his opponent stole a march, the
capital lay undefended. And he was sure that by this point, the one thing that
the Wa knew about this "barbarian" was that he and his army were
capable of moving very swiftly indeed. No, he was about as sure as he could be
that the north would be where the action was. What was still unclear to him was
the Wa commander's intent. Since the Wa had no navy to speak of, and certainly
not strong enough to be of any threat to his own fleet, which now rode at
anchor just on the other side of this ridge, it didn't really make sense for
the Wa to try and force a passage through that northern pass to get to the bay.
The only thing their infantry could do in that event was shake their fist at
the ships, and in fact, there was still some of the ship borne artillery that
hadn't been stripped from the vessels, so if they got too close to the shore,
the navy would punish them for that. Furthermore, forcing the pass would
effectively put the Roman army at their back, with the bay on the other side.
Despite their numerical superiority, they would be in a tactically inferior
position, and the Romans could move down the slope to within artillery range,
putting the Wa in a vice. No, Caesar mused, I don't think that's it. That left
only one other option, the one that made the most sense on a number of levels;
the Wa commander's intent was to come up this ridge and destroy this army once
and for all, in a decisive battle.

 

The only question was, how? Caesar had spent a sleepless
night turning that over in his mind. He had long since learned that while it
was of some value to think about what he would do in the Wa commander's place,
that didn't always mean that is what would happen. In fact, it rarely meant
that, so Caesar turned his prodigious mind to trying to divine what the Wa
commander would do. What made this so damnably difficult was Caesar's
unfamiliarity with his opponent, both in a general sense as far as
understanding the Wa mind, and in a specific sense, with this particular
general. He knew he had never faced this man, and while there had now been a
few engagements with the Wa, they had acted in such unexpected ways that Caesar
was very reluctant to draw any firm conclusion. Hence, a lot of tossing and
turning. Would the Wa commander just send that large body of men scrambling up
the slope, ready to absorb whatever punishment his men must endure in order to
close with the Romans, while using the smaller groups to keep the other Roman
camps occupied so that no reinforcements from them could be sent to help the
northern camp? On its surface, that would certainly seem the most likely
approach, but Caesar had spent enough time in this strange land to understand
one very important thing; the people of this entire part of the world didn't
think anything like those from the West. It was this thought gnawing at his
brain that finally prompted him to do summon Zhang. The Han emissary came very
quickly, and it was clear he hadn't been sleeping either.

            "It's
nice to know I'm not the only one losing sleep," Caesar said in Latin,
more as a test than anything.

            "Tomorrow
is........important day," Zhang replied haltingly, in Caesar's tongue. One
thing that Caesar was famous for, and if the truth were known, was one of the
things of which he was proudest, was his facility for languages, but this Han
had demonstrated to be his clear superior in that regard, as his Latin, just in
the weeks since he had first surprised them, was markedly improved. It
irritated Caesar quite a bit, in fact; when one has always been considered the
best at something, it's always a rude shock to find out you're not. This was
something that Caesar tried very hard not to show, keeping his countenance and
demeanor as close to normal as it always was. Achaemenes had been summoned as
well, and Caesar turned to him now.

            "I
want you to stay here, but Zhang and I are going to carry on this conversation.
Only step in when it's clear that either of us is having difficulty, is that
clear?

After being assured that it was, Caesar turned to Zhang.

            "I
need to ask you a question, and it is a very, very important one. The reason
it's important is that it affects your future just as much as it does mine, and
that of this army. So I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you
understand?"

Zhang didn't answer immediately, his flatter features
giving nothing away, but after what seemed to Caesar to be a very long moment,
he finally nodded.

            "Yes,
I understand, and I will be as honest as it is possible to be."

            "That
is a courtier's answer," Caesar snapped, but Zhang didn't understand the
word, so there was a pause as he and Achaemanes talked in Zhang's native
tongue. After a moment, Zhang made a small noise that Caesar took to mean he
now understood.

            "Forgive
me, Caesar," Zhang bowed his head toward the Roman. "That was a poor
choice of words. Yes, I will be completely honest with you."

Not completely satisfied but understanding he would get
nothing better, Caesar then posed his question.

 

 

Now, as Caesar watched matters unfolding, his mind went
back to that conversation with Zhang, and despite himself, he clenched a fist
in frustration. It had been singularly unsatisfying; the people of this part of
the world were worse than Greeks, speaking in riddles that to a Roman, smacked
of sophistry and duplicity. If Zhang didn't know, how hard would it have been
to simply say that? Still, his mind chewed on what little grist the Han had
provided, and as he saw the neat, serried ranks of the northernmost Wa force
begin to move, he slowly relaxed. They were heading directly for the slope, and
gave every indication that they were going to try and overwhelm Pullus and
Balbinus' Legions with sheer brute force. His attention was pulled away by the
sound of a bucina in his own camp,
and he turned to see that the smaller Wa force that had arrayed themselves at
the foot of the slope below his camp, had also begun to move.

            Turning to
Torquatus, whose Legion held this camp, Caesar said, "Remember what we
discussed Torquatus. I want you to wait longer than normal for the Wa to get
into range. I want to let them get really close before we commence
firing."

Torquatus saluted, assuring Caesar that he would do just
that, then left to move down the rampart to attend to his men. Caesar's purpose
in the order was twofold; at closer range, the scorpions in particular could
strike down two and even three men, especially these Wa, who fought in a more
compact formation than the Romans did and whose lamellar armor was inferior, at
least for those who wore the leather armor. The other reason was that he wanted
to make sure that this wasn't just some sort of feint, that the Wa would just
come partway up the slope, before suddenly shifting their attack. It came back
to that slight pocket formed by the curve of the ridge. If the Wa came part of
the way up the slope, then suddenly turned to move north along the length of
the ridge, because of that pocket, they could in effect swing around to hit the
northern camp from the rear. It was the one weakness of the position that
Caesar had thought the Wa commander would take advantage of, which was why he
had ordered the placement of those smaller positions, designed to hold no more
than a Century and 2 scorpions, or one ballista. But to this point, it didn't
appear that they would be needed, because the Wa were continuing to march up
the slope to the beat of heavy drums and what sounded like wooden blocks being
struck in a certain rhythm. Along the leading edge of the Wa ranks were men
carrying brightly colored banners, which Caesar assumed were some kind of unit
standard, although there were many more of them than a Legion carried. In fact,
as they drew closer, it looked like every tenth man carried a flag. The other
details that Caesar began to make out was the composition of the ranks of the
Wa; along with the flags, the front several ranks bristled with those long
spears, but behind them Caesar saw that there were as many ranks behind the
spearmen that were carrying swords, although at this point they just appeared
to be unarmed. These Wa were wearing white, making it look very striking as
they moved, something Caesar appreciated in a detached way. Then the sea of
white suddenly changed, with the next several rows wearing black, and as they
advanced up the slope Caesar could see what looked like slender branches,
stripped of limbs, sticking up over each man's shoulder. That had to be archers,
Caesar realized, and his heart started thudding more heavily as he counted the
rows of them. Ten deep, and how many across? More than a hundred. A hundred
fifty? So just in this group of Wa there are 1,500 archers? Turning his
attention back to the north, he shielded his eyes, the sun at his back as he
stared. If he squinted, he could just make out the ranks of the Wa that were
the farthest to the south enough to count the ranks. He threw a quick prayer of
thanks to the gods that the Wa used such striking color divisions between their
troops, making this task easier. But while the task was easier, the result was
extremely disheartening. There were 15 rows of archers in that northern force
of Wa, and the only thing he didn't know was how wide the formation was, but he
knew it would be at least three times as wide, if not even more so. Say they
would attack on a front of 500 men, and with 15 rows of archers, that meant
7,500 of just archers? Why, they'll blot out the sun with that many arrows. The
only hope for his men would be that they ran out of arrows fairly quickly with
that many men firing them.

 

All posts by R.W. Peake on blog.rwpeake.com are copyrighted by the author, 2012.