VI

THE BELGAE

The enemy never gave up even when they had no hope of victory. When those on the front line had fallen, those behind moved forward and stood on the bodies of their comrades to fight.

—CAESAR

With the Germans defeated and the legions firmly ensconced at their winter quarters in central Gaul, Caesar now journeyed back to his province in northern Italy. Governors were expected to be present in their home territories at least part of the year no matter how many wars they were waging beyond the borders. There were always cases to be heard and decisions to be made that required a governor’s attention—reviewing citizenship petitions, supervising public works, crucifying criminals. Caesar handled most of these administrative matters during his campaigns with the help of his many secretaries and messengers. Even while he was riding between camps, he would keep a scribe at hand so he could dictate notes and dispatch orders back to Italy. But some problems could only be solved in person. Caesar never regretted his time in the Po valley away from the army since the convenient proximity of the province to Rome allowed him to participate in Senate politics almost as if he were present in the city. For confidential communications with his supporters in the city, he used a code based on switching letters of the alphabet, guaranteeing frustration for anyone who might intercept his mail. During these winter months there was a constant stream of high-level visitors from Rome to Caesar’s headquarters just over the Apennine mountains.

The new force on the Roman political scene during Caesar’s absence in Gaul was the unpredictable ex-patrician tribune Clodius. Before Caesar had left to fight the Helvetii, Clodius had already passed an unprecedented free-grain bill to the horror of the Senate. Previous food distribution in the city of Rome had been at a discounted price to the truly needy, but Clodius was establishing a welfare state gone wild by passing out grain at no cost to a large portion of the city’s population. A substantial share of the government revenue suddenly shifted to paying for the largesse of Clodius. It was an obvious ploy to garner the favor of the urban masses, but it worked nonetheless. Clodius was rapidly building up a huge base of populist support to use in his many devious schemes.

But unlike other optimates or populists, no one could ever be sure which side Clodius would take on any particular issue. For the first few months of his tribunate, he followed a generally populist line, but his prime motivation seemed to be furthering his personal vendettas. He managed to have Cicero exiled for his questionable execution of the Catalinian conspirators, just as Caesar had warned at the time. Clodius even had Cicero’s house destroyed and a temple to the goddess Liberty erected on the site. Now Clodius, with Caesar’s wholehearted support, devised an ingenious plan for removing Cato from the Roman political scene as well. Many years earlier, Clodius, like Caesar, had been kidnapped by Cilician pirates, who held him for ransom. Clodius had arrogantly demanded that the nearby king of Cyprus pay the required gold, but the island ruler had not been enthusiastic about ransoming such an ill-mannered Roman youth. When Clodius finally was released from the pirate camp, he vowed he would have his revenge against the king someday. Now Clodius put before the popular assembly a bill for Rome to annex Cyprus. Included in the legislation was a provision that Cato be given extraordinary powers to oversee the takeover. This was a particularly Clodian twist of the knife since Cato had long been Rome’s chief opponent of granting extraordinary powers to anyone. If Cato refused, he would be guilty of defying the will of the Roman people. In the end, Cato grudgingly agreed to depart for Cyprus, much to Caesar’s delight.

But Caesar’s support of Clodius soon waned when the volatile tribune turned against the general’s triumvirate partner and son-in-law. Clodius first attempted to assassinate Pompey and, failing in that endeavor, blockaded him in his own house. The optimates saw in this recklessness a possible wedge to drive Pompey from Caesar and destroy the triumvirate, even proposing that Pompey divorce Caesar’s daughter, Julia, and join their side. But Pompey rejected this ploy and remained firm in his loyalty to Caesar, though he did begin working with the optimates to recall Cicero from exile.

Caesar soon had much more to worry about than politics in Rome. All during the winter while his army remained in camp in central Gaul, the fearsome Belgic tribes in northern France, Belgium, and the Netherlands had been watching and making plans to destroy the Romans. The Belgae had reasonably concluded that since the Romans had previously conquered southern Gaul and were now clearly starting a takeover of central Gaul, the north would soon be next. Better to face the Romans now, the Belgic tribes reckoned, than wait for them to consolidate their power over all the lands south of the Seine River. The Belgae were also being stirred up by refugee nobility from central Gaul, who were upset that the Romans had ruined their plans for gaining political sway over their home tribes. Many of these would-be kings were perfectly content with the chaotic infighting that had dominated Gaul for centuries and relished the chance to play different tribes against each other to increase their own personal power. But the Romans were a new and unwelcome factor. If Rome gained ascendancy in Gaul, the entire game of who controlled the resources and manpower of the land would shift from a fractured tribal model to a centralized government run by distant governors and magistrates. Some Gauls, such as Diviciacus, were quick to realize that they could profit if they were part of the new Roman system. They would have to surrender their tribe’s independence, but the Romans always rewarded local noblemen who cooperated with its empire. The Belgae, however, were a fiercely independent collection of tribes who wanted nothing to do with peace, commerce, or the fruits of civilization. With one notable exception, the tribes of the Belgae were prepared to face the Romans on the battlefield.

News of Belgic war preparations reached Caesar in northern Italy during the early spring, so he quietly began to recruit and train two new legions at his own cost from the Celtic farmlands of the Po valley. The Gaulish nature of his recruits from northern Italy was evident in many ways, including their language. One group from Italian Gaul even chose the nickname alauda (Gaulish for “lark”) for their legion. Caesar dispatched these soldiers in the early summer to join his six veteran legions already stationed in central Gaul. Caesar soon followed and took command of his army just as the first grain began to ripen. What no one seems to have noticed at the time—and which Caesar never mentions—is that his force of eight legions was twice the number the Senate had actually authorized for the army of Gaul. Since Caesar had paid for half of these with his own money, they significantly felt more loyalty to Caesar than to the state. Although Celtic by birth and culture, the recruits from northern Italy were equipped with the best Roman arms and thoroughly trained in Roman tactics and discipline. They were proud to call themselves Romans and would one day by rewarded by Caesar with the coveted citizenship.

Caesar now moved the legions north to the borders of the Belgae. He had charged the nearby Senones tribe with keeping him informed of Belgic movements—and all reports were that the Belgae were gathering to fight the Romans. This was especially troubling to Caesar as the Belgic tribes had never previously agreed on anything except perpetual warfare with each other. Now they had laid aside their differences and were prepared to cooperate against the Romans. Caesar knew that if they maintained their united front his army would be in serious danger. He was therefore delighted when a delegation from the Belgic tribe of the Remi, from around their namesake city of modern Reims northeast of Paris, arrived at his headquarters. The Remi were the Belgic tribe closest to central Gaul and therefore the best informed about the Romans. The leaders of the Remi had met during the winter and devised a practical response to the Roman threat. The Remi had shrewdly calculated that the Romans were the rising power in Gaul and were unbeatable on the battlefield; thus they offered themselves to Caesar as allies against their Belgic kinfolk. They would provide him with any information he might desire and assist him with food supplies, auxiliary troops, or anything else he might require. They agreed to surrender to Caesar as hostages the children of their own chieftains as proof of their loyalty. Caesar was thrilled with the Remi’s offer and quickly agreed to welcome them as friends of the Roman people. This firm base of support in northern Gaul was to prove an incalculable advantage to Caesar throughout the war.

Caesar learned from the Remi that the Belgae had originally lived to the east of the Rhine, but had migrated from Germany long ago in search of better land. They were a fiercely proud people who boasted that they, alone of the Gauls, had repulsed the dreaded Cimbri and Teutones invaders in the previous century. There were many Belgic tribes, but the Bellovaci and the Nervii were counted as the bravest. The Bellovaci claimed they could muster a hundred thousand warriors and had insisted on overall command of the Belgic forces fighting Rome. Other tribes, such as the Atrebates, Morini, and Caleti, each pledged tens of thousands of warriors. The Suessiones, neighbors and friends of the Remi, promised fifty thousand men.

Caesar called the Aeduan chief Diviciacus to his tent and laid out his plan for fighting the Belgae. It was imperative, Caesar insisted, that the Belgic tribes be prevented from gathering as a single force. He therefore ordered Diviciacus to lead the Aeduan auxiliaries into the lands of the Bellovaci and lay waste to their crops. Caesar was betting that this most powerful of the Belgic tribes would soon abandon the coalition if they saw their own fields burning. Caesar then set out to meet the approaching enemy. Time and again in the Gallic war, Caesar displayed a genius for picking the right ground for a fight. In this case, he moved just beyond the Aisne River on the border of the Remi so that his camp was on the far side with the river to his rear. There on top of a hill next to the Aisne, he entrenched a formidable camp looking down on a swampy stream to his north, through which the Belgae would have to approach if they wanted to attack. He secured his supply lines to the Remi with a bridge over the Aisne guarded by a small fort on the southern bank. Then he waited as the Belgae drew near.

The leaders of the Belgic forces were no fools and quickly attempted to bait Caesar out of his camp by instead launching an attack on the Remi town of Bibrax only eight miles away. The Belgae had a very effective technique for taking a town, though they lacked the massive towers and siege works favored by the Romans. The army surrounded the site and drove the defenders on the walls to seek cover by a constant and overwhelming barrage of stones. While the walls were cleared, a group of warriors locked shields above their heads and moved to the weakest point of the town, attempting then to quickly undermine the wall. The ferocious assault on Bibrax lasted throughout the day, but the townspeople were able to beat back the invaders before nightfall. The Remi commander sent a message to Caesar warning him they would not survive another attack without help.

Caesar knew he could not play into the enemy’s hands and abandon his secure position. His thirty-or forty thousand men could not beat a Belgic army at least five times that size if he let the Belgae choose the time and place of battle. He therefore decided to send something against the enemy that they had never encountered before. He had no elephants like Hannibal, but he did have a number of Cretan archers and Balearic slingers in his auxiliary units. These soldiers were from distant islands on opposite ends of the Mediterranean, but they shared an uncanny skill at hitting their targets from unheard-of distances. When they sneaked into Bibrax later that night, they brought hope to the besieged Remi just by their presence; but the next morning, when the Belgae attacked yet again, they showed their true worth. The Belgic warriors standing at what they thought was a safe distance from the city walls suddenly heard shrill whistles cutting through the air all around them—and men began to fall as the missiles shattered their skulls. Some slingers used smooth stones, but others preferred molded lead balls that were almost impossible to see in flight and could debilitate a man even if they didn’t penetrate his armor. Then arrows from the Cretan archers on the walls found their targets among the warriors of the Belgic lines. The Belgae were totally unnerved by these strange and deadly new attacks. They abandoned their siege and headed instead toward Caesar’s camp, burning every Remi farm they could find along the way out of sheer frustration.

The Belgae arrived just north of Caesar’s fort and pitched their own camp on a broad hill at the far side of the narrow swamp. About two miles separated the camps, so the Romans could easily see the vast hordes of the Belgae stretched out before them. That night, the Belgic campfires burned across the hill like thousands of stars in the Gaulish sky. Even taking into account the Roman habit of exaggerating enemy numbers for effect, Caesar was no doubt vastly outmanned. The site of countless Belgae was so terrifying and their reputation for warfare so formidable that Caesar hesitated at first to meet them on the battlefield. But after a few days during which the Roman cavalry skirmished successfully with the Belgic horsemen, Caesar decided to risk an open battle. He was still cautious, not willing to unduly risk the lives of his men, but he knew he could not defeat the Belgae by remaining in camp. Caesar positioned his men on the hill in front of his camp that sloped gently down to the swampy stream. On both sides of his troops he had dug a deep protective trench at right angles to his line so that the enemy could attack only from the front. This would in effect funnel the Belgic multitude into a narrow space no wider than Caesar’s own front line and seriously reduce their advantage in numbers. At the near end of each trench he positioned his artillery to guard against a flanking movement and to fire deadly volleys at the Gauls as they charged the Roman lines. The dreaded scorpiones (“scorpions”) were a particularly effective piece of Caesar’s artillery that were basically large crossbows with the capacity to fire oversized arrows with incredible force at great distance. Stone-throwing ballistae capable of decapitating a man may also have been set up along the trenches even though these were normally used for assaulting towns.

The Belgae brought their troops out of camp and stood facing the Romans on their own hill on the far side of the muddy, reed-covered stream. The Romans waited; the Belgae waited. But neither side was willing to cross the narrow swamp to attack the other. Now and then horsemen from both sides clashed between the lines and provided a bit of a distraction as the hours wore on, but still neither army moved. Finally, Caesar led his troops back to the protection of the Roman camp. Caesar was smart enough not to be provoked into exposing his men to a fight under unfavorable conditions, but he was disturbed to find that the Belgic leaders and warriors were equally self-controlled.

But the Belgae were not finished for the day. As soon as the Romans disappeared behind their walls, the warriors moved in mass far around the Roman camp using the hills and trees as cover. Their plan was to secretly ford the Aisne River, destroy the small Roman fort guarding the southern approach, then storm the Roman camp unexpectedly from behind. Fortunately for Caesar, his scouts reported the enemy movements in time for him to lead a force of cavalry, archers, and slingers across the bridge to the small fort. From there they spread along the river and were waiting on the southern bank when the first Belgae appeared on the opposite shore. Even Caesar admits that the battle at the river was unbelievably fierce. The Roman cavalry rushed the Belgic warriors while they were still in the river and cut many down. Others were killed by arrows and missiles from the Cretan archers and Balearic slingers who had returned from the siege of Bibrax. The few Belgae who managed to cross the river were slain with the greatest difficulty by Roman cavalry. But still, the Belgae on the north side of the Aisne kept coming, using the bodies of their dead comrades as a bridge across the bloody river.

At last the Belgic leaders realized their plan had failed. They retreated to their camp and held a council that evening on what to do next about Caesar. Since their strategy of luring Caesar into open battle against their massive army had failed, it seemed best to let him make the next move. The Belgae decided that each tribe should return home and wait to see where the Romans would strike. Whichever tribe the legions attacked, the Belgic leaders pledged they would all immediately bring their troops to their aid. Just as Caesar had planned, the Bellovaci were particularly anxious to leave since Diviciacus and his Aeduan troops were busy ravaging their lands.

The Belgic forces departed that very night tribe by tribe to their respective homes amid great disorder and commotion. Caesar naturally heard the uproar of their departure, but kept his men in camp fearing that this was a trick to lure his men into a trap. He couldn’t believe any army would deliberately break camp in such a raucous fashion unless they were up to no good. But when morning came, Caesar’s scouts confirmed that the Belgic tribes were indeed in retreat with no signs of an ambush laid for the Romans. Not one to let such an opportunity pass, he ordered his cavalry to pursue and attack the departing warriors. The rear guard of the Belgae put up a brave fight so that their comrades could escape to safety, but by the end of the day many of them had been slain.

During the first two years of the war in Gaul, Caesar was quite consciously training his troops to a new standard of military performance and personal loyalty. No Roman general ever pressed his troops harder than Caesar, but no army ever followed its leader more willingly. Caesar didn’t care what kind of background his men came from, whether they were Roman patricians by birth or the sons of a goatherd. All that mattered to him was how they conducted themselves in war. He didn’t address his men by the standard termmilites (“soldiers”), but as commilitones (“comrades”). During the season when they were not on campaign he indulged his men shamelessly, turning a blind eye to minor violations of camp rules and regulations. He even provided them with the finest in armor and weaponry, often decorated with inlaid silver and gold. But when his army was on the march, no one was stricter than Caesar. Punishment for shirking duty was severe, and deserters were promptly executed. He also made a habit during campaigns of not announcing the hour of the army’s departure beforehand as he expected his men to be prepared to follow him at any time. Sometimes, especially on rainy days or during holidays when soldiers might hope to relax, he would break camp at a moment’s notice and march his men long distances for no reason other than to build up their endurance. But after a great victory, Caesar would allow his men a well-earned night on the town, boasting that his army fought bravely even when they smelled of perfume.

Even with the Belgic retreat, however, there was no time for his army to relax. They were still vastly outnumbered and deep in enemy territory, with a dozen tribes threatening to annihilate them if they let down their guard for a moment. The day after the Belgae began returning to their homes, he led his army on a forced march from the land of the Remi down the Aisne River to Noviodunum (modern Soissons), a stronghold of the neighboring tribe, the Suessiones. The Gaulish word dunum means “fortress” and is found in names throughout the Celtic world, but Noviodunum (“new fortress”) deserved the suffix more than most sites. Caesar says its trenches were so deep and its walls so high that he abandoned any idea of storming the citadel as he had originally planned, even though there were relatively few defenders at first. He established a camp nearby and studied the fortress carefully. The next day he sent soldiers into the nearby woods with axes and began felling trees. The carpenters among the men set to work building what looked like small sheds on wooden wheels. Each of these was roofed and sided with thick boards and hides capable of withstanding rocks and arrows raining down on them. While the Gauls watched in wonder, Caesar also began constructing enormous towers and filling in the ditches around the town. Even though the Suessiones had never seen anything like this before, they quickly realized the purpose of these siege engines and knew their fortress could not withstand this new kind of warfare. The town surrendered to Caesar the same day, with the Remi interceding on behalf of their wayward neighbors. Caesar’s rule was that if an enemy opened their gates to him before his siege works touched their walls, they would be allowed to surrender peacefully and maintain their way of life. If, however, they forced him to seize their city by force, they were subject to the cruel laws of war.

The first siege of the Gallic war was a great success—and no one was more happy than Caesar that he didn’t have to storm the town. The Roman army could take any town given enough time, but such efforts used up weeks he could not waste during the summer fighting season. Much better to quickly intimidate a town into surrender and spare his men the risk of a battle. True, a sacked town could yield a great deal of immediate booty for his army, especially in the form of slaves, but even towns that surrendered peacefully could be highly profitable through tribute and taxes.

Caesar now moved west to the Bellovaci tribe near the English Channel. The Bellovaci were the most numerous of the Belgic tribes and were famed for their skill in war, but they didn’t put up much of a fight when Caesar arrived. About five miles from their main fortress of Bratuspantium, north of Paris, he met a crowd of old men from the tribe stretching their hands to him in supplication. The women and children did the same when Caesar arrived at the town. Diviciacus stepped forward to speak on behalf of the Bellovaci, who he explained were longtime friends of the Aedui. It was not their fault they set themselves against Rome, he declared. The blame lay with their fickle leaders, who had now escaped to Britain, shamefully leaving their women, children, and old people at Caesar’s mercy. In accordance with his policy of clemency, Caesar agreed to accept their surrender provided they turn over six hundred hostages and all of their weapons. In one day and without any blood spilled, the Romans had conquered the largest of the Belgic tribes.

One tribe after another had surrendered, but Caesar knew the most formidable of all the Belgae still remained—the Nervii. The Bellovaci were the largest of the Belgic tribes, but the Nervii were the toughest warriors in all of Gaul. Like the Spartans in ancient Greece, the Nervii prided themselves on their austerity at home and discipline in war. They shunned cavalry and relied instead on heavily armed infantry. They alone of the Gaulish tribes banned merchants from their borders lest their fighting spirit be weakened by wine and other luxury imports from the Mediterranean. They despised the Aedui, Remi, and now the Bellovaci for making peace with the Romans and swore they would never come to terms with Caesar.

According to cavalry scouts, the Nervii were waiting for the Romans on the southern bank of the Sambre River. They had persuaded the neighboring Atrebates and Viromandui tribes to stand with them and were waiting for reinforcements from the Aduatuci to the east. All the women, children, and older members of the tribes had been taken to a nearby safe area surrounded by marshes, but every able-bodied man stood ready for battle. The Nervii had made their camp inside a forest just south of the Sambre so that their numbers and movement could not be easily observed by the Romans. Caesar knew he would face a formidable force at the Sambre, but he didn’t realize he was walking into a trap.

Some of the Belgic hostages Caesar had taken earlier in the campaign had escaped and now passed on valuable information to the Nervii. The Romans, they said, marched with their legions widely separated with their supply wagons in between. If the Nervii attacked the supply train after the first legion had reached camp, they could destroy the Roman grain stores and drive back the approaching troops, isolating the first legion.

Caesar decided to make his camp on this hill above the river opposite the forest, but as he approached the site he became suspicious and decided to rearrange the order of his march, bringing six legions in front and leaving the baggage to follow guarded by two legions. Even though the Nervii watching from the woods noted this unfortunate change, they decided to press ahead with their attack as planned. They had drawn up their forces under the cover of the trees, so that when the signal trumpet sounded, they burst from the woods toward the Romans in full battle array. The six legions that had started to entrench the camp were caught totally off guard by the speed and force of the Belgic attack. There was no time to form up lines or organize by units—each Roman soldier drew his sword and fought where he stood as the host of screaming Belgae came rushing over the river and up the hill.

Caesar says he had to do everything at once—sound the trumpet call, stop the entrenchment, gather the men together, form a line, encourage his troops, and launch a counterattack. He had been caught unprepared for a surprise assault of such force and speed; his army would surely have been overwhelmed had it not been for the training and experience they had gained during the past year. There was no time to call his officers together and form a plan, so each organized whatever men were nearest and struck back at the Belgae. With a herculean effort, the Roman troops on the eastern side of the battlefield were able to push the Atrebates and then the Viromandui back across the river with heavy losses on both sides, but the Nervii on the western end would not yield and pressed the Romans until they fell back in a hopeless struggle to save their camp. The Nervii stormed over the uncompleted walls of the Roman stronghold, killing many of the legionaries and threatening to outflank the Roman forces who had already crossed the river. Caesar had been rushing madly to every corner of the battlefield, but when he saw the dire threat at the camp, he leapt from his horse, grabbed a sword, and joined the fray:

He rushed to the front lines, calling the centurions by name and urging on the troops. He told them to spread out so they might have more room to use their weapons. His presence breathed a new life into his soldiers.

Caesar rallied his men by fighting along side them, but they were still in grave danger. Slowly, however, the lines began to reform and the Nervii were prevented from encircling the Romans. At this opportune moment, the two legions that had escorted the baggage arrived to reinforce their comrades. Across the river, Labienus also saw the danger Caesar was in and rushed back with his men. His arrival brought such hope to the beleaguered men around Caesar that even those who had been seriously wounded propped themselves against their shields for support to continue the fight. The Nervii were now trapped on all sides by the Romans—but none of them fled or surrendered. As the hours passed, the Romans slowly tightened the circle on them, hacking and killing as each Belgic warrior fought with all his might. In the end, the few Nervii who were left stood on a mound formed by their fallen comrades and—pulling the Roman spears from the dead bodies of their friends—threw them back down at the legions.

When the battle was finally over, the Roman soldiers collapsed in exhaustion while the surviving officers began to count the dead. Caesar describes the battle as a marvel of Roman courage and leadership under horrific conditions, but he cannot hide the fact that his own carelessness had almost destroyed the entire Roman army in Gaul.

Soon the old men of the Nervii emerged from the swamps where they had hidden with the tribe’s women and children. They approached Caesar knowing they had no hope for mercy, but pleaded nonetheless on behalf of those left alive. The Nervii, they declared, were utterly destroyed as a people—from their six hundred leading tribesmen, only three remained alive. From the sixty thousand warriors that had faced Caesar at the beginning of the day, only five hundred had survived. Later events show the Nervii had more men than they claimed, but there is no doubt their numbers had been drastically reduced. By the ancient laws of war, Caesar should have killed all the remaining men and sold the women and children into slavery. But as a gesture of mercy he hoped would encourage other Belgic tribes to yield, he sent the surviving Nervii home and ordered that none of their neighboring tribes take advantage of their weakness—if they did, they would feel the wrath of Rome.

The Aduatuci warriors who had been on their way to join the Nervii in battle heard of the defeat and quickly returned to their homeland near the Rhine delta. All the tribe then gathered at a stronghold surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs and a towering, double wall on the fourth. Caesar relates that the Aduatuci were a remnant of Rome’s ancient nemesis, the marauding Cimbri and Teutones, that had been left behind in northern Gaul fifty years previous to guard the livestock and goods stolen during their rampage. The plan was for the Cimbri and Teutones to send for the loot once they had defeated the Romans, but Caesar’s uncle Marius had instead destroyed them in the south. Thus the 6,000 warriors left behind as a garrison became the Aduatuci, the stranded descendants of the Cimbri and Teutones.

Caesar was surely aware of their ancestry as he approached the Aduatuci citadel and must have felt the pull of history. Marius had saved Rome from their invasion decades earlier; now his nephew could win glory in Rome by writing the final chapter of the ancient Cimbri and Teutones saga. Caesar soon had the town cut off from reinforcement and supplies with a fortified rampart, but the tribesmen had plenty of food. The Aduatuci stood on their walls and laughed at the Romans building a giant tower in the distance. They shouted that the besiegers would never be able to move such a monstrosity up to the fortress. Caesar says the jeering suddenly stopped when the siege tower began to roll toward their walls. Like the Suessiones earlier, the Aduatuci had never seen such a marvel but knew their city would not be able to stand the coming Roman assault.

A deputation from the citadel soon arrived at Caesar’s camp and offered the tribe’s surrender. They asked only that they might be allowed to keep their weapons to protect themselves from hostile neighbors. Caesar accepted their surrender, but insisted that all weapons be handed over immediately. The Aduatuci reluctantly agreed and began throwing piles of spears and swords over the walls—but the men secretly hid a third of their arms deep inside the fortress. Caesar ordered the tribe to remain in the stronghold that night, but instead, they burst out of the gates in the early morning hours fearing that the Romans were preparing to slaughter them all the next day. Caesar’s troops hunted them down by torchlight and killed about four thousand of the men in a rare nighttime battle, but the rest managed to flee back into the fortress. At dawn, Caesar broke open the city gates with a battering ram, sent in his troops, and sold every surviving Aduatuci, including the women and children, into slavery. The merchants who followed the legions paid Caesar personally for the fifty-three thousand captives. Thus the last descendants of the Cimbri and Teutones were marched south to spend the rest of their lives laboring in the fields and quarries of the Mediterranean world. Caesar did not show mercy twice.

Caesar’s problems in Gaul, however, were not quite over for the year. Just after the battle against the Nervii, the twelfth legion under Caesar’s protégé Servius Galba had been sent to secure what we know as the Great St. Bernard Pass into Italy before winter set in. Roman merchants had long been accustomed to traveling through these heights, but the natives of the area demanded outrageous tolls for the privilege. Caesar knew that if he could gain control of this strategic pass, he would have a shortcut from northern Italy straight into the heart of central Gaul that would cut many days of travel from the normal coastal route. Galba was given this commission even though his legion was still short of men. Securing the pass went well at first with only a few minor skirmishes, which the Romans easily won. The local tribes grudgingly provided hostages from among their children, then Galba settled most of his troops in the Alpine village of Octodurus nestled just below the soaring heights of Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn. To keep peace with the natives, he restricted his men to a fort on one side of the village while the townspeople remained on the other side, separated by a rushing river. The grain he had ordered to be brought up the mountains had not yet arrived, but he was confident the supply trains would appear soon and that the cold mountain winter would be peaceful. The next morning, however, he learned that all the natives had ominously vanished from their side of the village. Looking up at the crags above his camp, he saw thousands of warriors gathered from neighboring tribes. The natives of the Great St. Bernard Pass had decided that the Romans were bent on outright conquest, not merely securing a passage to Italy. They were also furious at being forced to hand over their children to the Romans as hostages. With only a few thousand legionaries in the camp, the tribesmen felt confident they could bury the Romans beneath rocks and spears in the first assault.

Galba knew he was in a desperate situation. He considered a hasty retreat down the mountain, but, in the manner of Caesar, decided instead to fight against difficult odds. The enemy began its attack by hurling stones and spears at the Romans, then rushing the walls of the fort. The legionaries were vastly outnumbered and could not afford to leave their place on the wall even if they were grievously wounded. The natives on the other hand had plenty of reserves to replace any man who fell. In this impossible situation for the Romans, a centurion named Baculus proposed the outrageous idea of rushing boldly from the fort and attacking the enemy. The Roman troops were in such straits at this moment that they were willing to do anything rather than wait for the fort to be stormed. At a signal from Galba, all the troops burst from the gates of the fort at once and charged the natives. The Alpine warriors were so shocked by this unexpected counterattack that they fell back, then began running headlong down the valley in retreat. The Romans alledgedly killed ten thousand men in the scramble, returning exhausted to their camp that night along with all the weapons they could collect from their fallen enemies. Galba was proud of his victory, but he knew he couldn’t hold the pass with so few troops and no reliable supply line. The next day he burned down the whole village, then moved his men back to the lowlands of the Province.

Caesar reports in the Gallic War that while he had been engaged defeating the Belgae in the summer of 57 B.C., he sent his lieutenant Publius Crassus west into Normandy and Brittany to subdue the tribes along the English Channel and Atlantic coast. Now Crassus returned to headquarters and reported that the Veneti, Osismi, and all the other maritime states had surrendered to Rome. Caesar passes over this episode with notable brevity since events of the next year were to prove the conquest of the western tribes was anything but complete.

Nevertheless, Caesar declared in his annual dispatch to the Senate that all of Gaul was finally at peace, with even some German tribes on the far side of the Rhine sending emissaries declaring their submission to Rome. Caesar soon established his legions in winter quarters in western and central Gaul, as well as several among the Belgae and Galba’s battered legion in the south. He then began preparations to leave for Italy and Illyricum confident that the conquest of Gaul was practically finished. Even his enemies in the Senate were impressed as they declared an unprecedented fifteen days of thanksgiving for Caesar’s achievements. The consensus among the more moderate senators, including Cicero, was that Caesar had washed away the blemish of any unconstitutional actions during his consulship by his victories in Gaul.

Not everyone in Rome that winter was happy with Caesar’s success. Pompey had been slowly distancing himself from the triumvirate during the last year—not going as far as to side with the optimates, but lending them an increasingly sympathetic ear. Cato and the rest were working very carefully to pry Pompey away from Caesar and Crassus. The major reason for Pompey’s discontent was simple jealousy of Caesar’s victories. Pompey never deluded himself that he was a master politician, but he took pride in his unmatched accomplishments in war. The adulation now heaped on Caesar for his military triumphs hit Pompey hard as everyone seemed to forget his own exploits in Asia. He began to mutter against Caesar, urging the Senate not to read his dispatches from Gaul in public and even hinting that someone, perhaps himself, should be sent to Gaul to replace Caesar.

The optimates played on Pompey’s discontent for all it was worth, listening to his complaints and agreeing that Rome needed a way to counterbalance the rising power of Caesar. When food riots broke out in Rome in September of 57 B.C., the Senate voted, at the urging of Cicero, to give Pompey extraordinary powers to administer the grain supply throughout Roman lands for five years. This appointment, like his mandate to end piracy several years before, carried with it military power to enforce his authority even above governors throughout the Roman world, including Gaul. Many senators were genuinely concerned about securing the food supply for Rome, but those who opposed Caesar saw this as a perfect opportunity to curb his influence and to break up the triumvirate. Most of the optimates detested Pompey, but they hated Caesar even more.

A few months later, Pompey discovered how shallow his support in the Senate really was when he attempted to add to his portfolio the mandate to reinstate the now-exiled king of Egypt. Ptolemy XII had been driven out of Alexandria by his eternally discontented subjects and had fled to Rome with bags of gold. With these he bribed senators and hired assassins to kill the delegates the Alexandrians had sent to Rome to explain their side of the story. Intrigue to regain the Egyptian throne became so heated that the Senate grew weary of the matter and rejected Pompey’s bid to retake Alexandria for Ptolemy. They were afraid that giving Pompey effective control of Egypt as well as the grain supply would make him a virtual emperor of the Mediterranean. Pompey took this rebuff with ill humor and soon became convinced that there was a conspiracy not only against his power but his life as well. He even brought in armed guards from his home region of Picenum to protect him in the unruly streets of Rome.

Caesar was, of course, keeping a close watch on all these events from Cisalpine Gaul. The proceeds from plunder and slave sales among the Belgae had provided him with enormous amounts of cash that he now applied liberally to his political problems in Rome. Any potential tribune or other would-be magistrate knew Caesar would lavishly finance his campaign as long as he swore to support Caesar’s agenda. He was also working behind the scenes to rebuild the triumvirate. In utmost secrecy, Caesar met with Crassus at Ravenna that winter, then welcomed Pompey at the small town of Luca just over the border in Cisalpine Gaul. Caesar once more demonstrated his consummate skill in personal politics, wooing his two partners into a reaffirmed pact that would benefit both of them greatly. It was agreed that Crassus and Pompey would serve as joint consuls once more in the year 55 B.C. They would unite with Caesar to form a solid front against the optimates and anyone else who stood in their way, including Cicero. The prize for both Pompey and Crassus would be unprecedented military commands after their year as consuls. Both would have the opportunity to conquer enemies far more glorious and lucrative than Caesar’s Gauls. For his part, Caesar wanted to continue his war in Gaul unfettered and serve again as consul in 48 B.C., the earliest year he would be eligible. Caesar’s deference to his two senior partners won over both to a new alliance that chilly winter. Pompey soon sent a message to Cicero warning him that he would oppose Caesar at his own peril.

Cicero, a proud man, but also devoted to self-preservation, agreed not only to support Caesar but to speak in his favor on the Senate floor. The orator swallowed his pride and advocated an extension of Caesar’s power in Gaul as a matter of national security since changing leadership before the war was completed would put Rome at unnecessary risk. In addition, money should be provided to support Caesar’s new legions and his imperium from Illyricum to the English Channel must be prolonged for several years. The Senate concurred despite the clamor of the outraged and outmaneuvered optimates. The winter of 57 B.C. had begun with Caesar in great political peril, but with the spring of 56 now drawing near, his future had never looked brighter.

Caesar spent most of that winter in northern Italy, but he traveled to nearby Illyricum, where he also served as governor. Since deciding to wage war in Gaul, he had left the rule of Illyricum to subordinates, but he maintained constant contact with the Province and now visited it in person. This mountainous territory on the east coast of the Adriatic Sea had once served as a haunt of pirates and as a buffer state between Rome and Macedon, but now the land was at peace. Caesar had insisted on the governance of the province when he was still pondering an invasion of Dacia to the east—and though he was currently occupied in Gaul, he maintained a lively interest in Illyricum with an eye to future campaigns beyond the Danube.

The bad news from Gaul came early that spring of 56 B.C., just as Caesar had settled affairs in Rome and was touring Illyricum. Young Publius Crassus, who had earlier assured Caesar that the Gaulish maritime tribes on the west coast had been subdued, now reported that his emissaries had been seized by those very tribes. Crassus had settled into winter camp on the northern bank of the Loire River, near the Atlantic. Since food was scarce in the immediate area, he had sent legates to nearby tribes, including the Veneti of Brittany, to requisition supplies. Even though the Veneti had given hostages and assured Crassus just a few weeks before that they would willingly submit to Caesar, they now decided that spending their lives as Roman subjects was not for them. They put the legates in chains and sent an embassy to Crassus demanding that he exchange the Veneti hostages in his keeping for his own men. They then sent messengers to the other maritime tribes encouraging them to join the rebellion against Rome and were pleased with the enthusiastic response from their Gaulish kindred. With little forethought—as Caesar says was typical among the Gauls—the Veneti and their allies had now started a war with Rome.

In spite of the poor record of Gaulish tribes in the previous two years, the Veneti were well positioned to succeed in a prolonged conflict against Rome. Like the Phoenicians and Athenians before them, the Veneti were a people of the sea. Skilled at sailing the dangerous waters of the north Atlantic, they also dominated trade between Gaul and Britain. Unlike the Helvetii or Belgae, the Veneti could maintain an endless supply line by sea and had the mobility to sail unimpeded from one fortress to another if threatened. They knew they could not defeat the Romans in a pitched battle on land, but they could wear them down using their unchallenged dominance of the sea.

As soon as the message from young Crassus arrived in Illyricum, Caesar ordered a fleet of warships to be constructed on the Loire and rowers, seamen, and pilots to be recruited from the experienced sailors of the Province. Caesar himself quickly finished his business in the Balkans, then headed west to meet the fleet in early summer. The Veneti heard news of Caesar’s armada and began to make their own preparations. Ships were readied for battle and more allies were recruited, including the Venelli of Normandy and the Morini and Menapii tribes along the Belgic coast. The Veneti even recruited fighters from across the sea in Britain. The Veneti leaders realized the formidable nature of the Roman military machine, but they were confident that their own skills at open ocean sailing combined with Roman ignorance of the coastline would see them through the summer until the Romans ran out of supplies and were forced to withdraw. The Veneti fortresses were all located on precipitous spits of land reaching out into the sea and could be attacked from land only with the greatest difficulty. The force of the ocean waves pounding constantly beneath the walls and the potent force of Atlantic tides also made a sea attack by the Romans unlikely. All the Veneti coastal forts were soon well stocked with grain and ready to withstand a protracted siege.

Caesar inserts an amazing statement in his Gallic War just before he begins the campaign against the Veneti, in which he describes why the maritime tribes revolted against Rome: “Human nature everywhere yearns for freedom and hates submitting to domination by another.” This kind of refreshing honesty is typical in Roman writers from the earliest days of the Republic to the fall of the empire. The Romans never pretended that they were bringing freedom or a better way of life to the peoples they conquered. They frankly admitted that they were only interested in increasing their own power, wealth, and security through conquest. They had no particular desire to spread classical culture throughout the world unless it served their own plans to better control a province. Caesar freely admits that the Veneti were simply fighting for liberty, just as he would have done in their place. Nevertheless, he was determined to crush them.

Caesar recognized that a war in Brittany could spark rebellions among tribes throughout Gaul if they believed he was distracted by the Veneti and their allies. He therefore first secured potential problem areas, including the border with Germany. His chief lieutenant, Labienus, took up station along the Rhine to prevent any Germanic warriors crossing into Belgic territory. Next, he sent Crassus to Aquitainia in southwest Gaul to quell any uprisings among the tribes near Spain. Finally, he dispatched Quintus Titurius Sabinus with three legions to crush the revolt among the Venelli in nearby Normandy. Caesar had put a young man named Decimus Brutus in charge of preparing the Roman fleet along the Loire. Not to be confused with the Brutus who would one day deliver the death blow to Caesar, this Brutus nevertheless, after being much honored by Caesar, would also participate in his assassination.

But those events were still twelve years in the future. Now Decimus Brutus threw all his considerable energy into constructing and outfitting the ships Caesar would use to attack the Veneti. When Caesar arrived with the soldiers who would serve as siege troops on shore and as marines on the ships, the fleet was ready. The Romans had learned the hard way how to fight sea battles two hundred years earlier, during the First Punic War, but that was a naval conflict fought with similar ships by two mighty empires. The Veneti, as they had planned, challenged the Romans in a new way. Instead of playing by the normal rules of combat, the Veneti in a seaside fortress would watch patiently while the Romans toiled to construct massive towers and walls to blockade them from escape by land. Then, just as the siege towers were about to breach their walls, they would call in their sturdy ships and escape by sea to another fortress. Caesar couldn’t stop the Veneti ships because his own fleet was too fragile to handle the crashing waves around their strongholds. It was a maddening game for the Romans that lasted throughout the summer.

Caesar was learning a lesson that Roman generals had been taught many times in previous centuries—new foes often have unexpected weapons and techniques that must be overcome through ingenuity and adaptation. Unlike the Roman ships designed for warfare in the calm, deep waters of the Mediterranean, Veneti ships were flat on the bottom so that—like Viking longboats—they required very little water underneath them. This allowed the Veneti to maneuver in shallow coves and over rocky shoals that grounded Roman ships. The sides of Caesar’s ships were low to accommodate rowers and allow quick boarding of an enemy vessel, but Veneti ships rose many feet above the waterline. This made it extremely difficult for the Romans to use their trademark grappling hooks and almost impossible for them to climb up the sides of a Veneti ship. The Romans tried building small turrets on board to reach the Veneti, but these made their own boats unstable and even so were still not tall enough for them to look the enemy sailors in the eye. The Veneti fleet was also made of sturdy oak, with hefty crossbeams for support and held together by nails as thick as a man’s thumb. Roman ships on the other hand were designed to be light and fast, since ramming an enemy craft was standard procedure. But when the Romans tried smashing into a Veneti ship, they either bounced off or shattered their own prows. The Veneti also used leather rather than cloth sails as these stood up much better to the punishment meted out by Atlantic storms. However, the Veneti fleet did have one weakness Caesar realized he could exploit—since their ships had no rowers, they were totally dependant on the wind in their sails to move.

By the end of the summer Caesar had captured several empty Veneti fortresses, but he was getting nowhere on either land or sea. True to his nature, he then decided to risk everything on a major naval battle just off the coast. The whole Roman fleet under Decimus Brutus was brought up while the Veneti eagerly sailed forward to meet them. Here was their chance to destroy the Romans at last. Over two hundred fully outfitted Veneti ships engaged the Romans in what they were sure would be a crushing defeat for Caesar. On the cliffs above the sea, Caesar watched the battle unfold just as the Persian king Xerxes had gazed down on his own fleet fighting the Athenians at Salamis four centuries earlier. The Roman fleet was savaged at first by spears and arrows from the taller Veneti ships, but Caesar had a trick up his sleeve. Each Roman ship had been equipped with several long poles with a sharp hook on the end. The Romans now rowed close to a Veneti ship, hooked the lines holding the enemy’s sails, then reversed direction and rowed with all their might until their lines were cut. This left the Veneti ship without usable sails and immobilized. Several Roman ships would then converge on a disabled Veneti craft and fight their way on board with ladders. It was an exhausting battle that lasted all day, with many casualties to the Romans, but finally the Veneti began to flee. It was just at that moment the gods smiled on Caesar as the brisk wind suddenly ceased. With the air dead calm, the Veneti ships were sitting ducks. By nightfall, only a handful of the enemy ships had escaped.

The Veneti knew that with their fleet destroyed and most of their warriors slain, they could no longer offer any resistance. Since the sea was now off-limits to them and the Romans were dominant on land, they had no choice but to surrender. If they hoped for any mercy from Caesar, they soon realized their error. Not only had the Veneti broken Caesar’s cardinal rule by rebelling after surrender, but they had violated the sacred status of his ambassadors when they had held the legates of Crassus for ransom. To make an example of them, he executed all the surviving Veneti leaders and sold the rest of the population into slavery.

While Caesar was fighting in Brittany, his lieutenant Sabinus was engaging the Venelli over a hundred miles away in Normandy. Nearby tribes from the area west of Paris had also joined the Venelli in rebellion after their warriors had killed their own elders for refusing to lead their people against Caesar’s army. In addition, fighters from all over Gaul were arriving in Normandy every day to take up the anti-Roman cause. Caesar says some of these were true patriots while others were simply ruffians seeking plunder or young men weary of life on the farm.

Sabinus refused to meet the Venelli and their allies in open battle and instead withdrew behind a well-fortified camp on top of a long, sloping hill. Day after day the Gauls emerged from their own camp two miles away and taunted the Romans for their cowardice. Soon the Venelli were even approaching the walls of the Roman camp itself and hurling abuse at the legionaries standing guard. A storm of discontent began to rise among the frustrated Roman troops in the camp, but all was going according to the plan of Sabinus. The general then chose one of the Gaulish auxiliary soldiers among his men and made him an offer—he would receive a great reward if he would pretend to desert to the Venelli and tell them what Sabinus instructed him. That night the man slipped quietly over the walls and made his way to the Gaulish headquarters. The story he told the Venelli was exactly what they wanted to hear—Sabinus was a sniveling coward who was planning to withdraw his whole army secretly that next night to join Caesar in Brittany. The Venelli decided to launch an attack the next day before Sabinus could escape. At dawn the Venelli warriors and their allies were so excited at the prospect of spoils and glory that they ran the entire two miles uphill to the Roman camp in full battle gear. By the time they reached the top, they were exhausted. It was then Sabinus sent his own soldiers out of the gates. The fresh and eager legionaries began cutting down the weary Gaulish fighters, while those Gauls who managed to escape the slaughter on the hill were hunted down by the Roman cavalry. The spirited rebellion in Normandy evaporated as quickly as it had begun. As Caesar himself commented:

The Gauls are by nature very eager to begin a war, but they have no perseverance. If a setback or calamity befalls them, they cannot carry on.

While Caesar and Sabinus were leading their campaigns, young Crassus was locked in a fierce struggle against the Gauls of Aquitania near the Pyrenees Mountains. The Romans had crossed into this land from the Province in previous decades, but had always been driven back by the martial skill of the natives. In spite of setbacks, Crassus led his men first against the cavalry of the Sotiates tribe near Bordeaux, then surrounded their stronghold with towers and siege equipment. The Sotiates were experienced copper miners and attempted to tunnel under the Roman army, but in the end to no avail. After taking their city, Crassus moved against the Vocates and Tarusates, who had wisely recruited veterans from Spain who had served with a Roman rebel named Sertorius twenty years earlier. These men were trained in Roman-style warfare and gave Crassus a difficult time, but by the end of the summer he had subdued all of Aquitania from the mountains to the sea.

Caesar himself finished out the campaign season with a quick strike against the Morini and Menapii along the modern Dutch coast. Seeing that all the tribes that had stood their ground against Caesar had been defeated, the Morini and Menapii prudently gathered supplies and hid deep in their impenetrable forests. Caesar tried repeatedly to attack them, but his men were constantly ambushed while the Gauls only fled farther into the woods. In frustration, Caesar adopted the novel if impractical strategy of leveling the entire coastal forest. But as the summer was rapidly coming to an end, Caesar abandoned his woodcutting campaign and, burning all the native villages in the area, left the Morini and Menapii for another day. He gave orders for his legions to make winter camps throughout Gaul, but especially in those areas that had taken part in that year’s rebellion. These vanquished tribes had not only suffered defeat and a considerable reduction in population, but they were now forced to feed the Roman army that winter from their meager supplies. Caesar was teaching them a very deliberate lesson on the cost of rebellion.

After three summers of war in Gaul, Caesar had conquered—and in some cases reconquered—an enormous ring of land stretching from Lake Geneva down the Rhine to the North Sea, then through the lands of the Belgae to the English Channel and Brittany, and finally south to the Loire valley and the Pyrenees Mountains. If any Gauls or Romans had been unsure of his ultimate intent, it was now clear. Caesar had drawn a net around Gaul with only the center left untouched. With the boundaries of Gaul secure, he believed the heavily populated and prosperous central area would submit peacefully to Roman rule. If there was any trouble in the future, it was simply a matter of sending in his legions to close the net.