He saluted then said, “I guess this means that Vellusius made it back.”
I grinned, hoping that he could see it in the dark. “Oh he made it. It just took him a while to get his breath back. Says he’s getting old.”
“Aren’t we all,” Scribonius replied, then said sadly, “Not all of us.”
“What’s the butcher’s bill, do you know yet?”
“Not completely. I know of two dead and four wounded. One of them is Didius.”
“How badly?”
His tone was grim. “Bad enough. It’s his leg, but the muscle is cut almost all the way through and is hanging like a piece of meat. He'll need a litter.”
This was indeed bad news, but I decided that I would bribe Caesar’s surgeon to take a look at Didius to see if he could be fixed up enough to keep marching, since we were literally months away from the end of our enlistment. Nonetheless, the regulations were clear; the only way that Didius would get his full benefit was by serving his full enlistment. Because Caesar was the master of Rome and Didius one of his Legionaries, I was fairly confident that the regulations could be bent, but it was not a foregone conclusion, and I knew that if I were Didius, I would not sleep easy until the matter was decided. Better that we did not have to rely on Caesar, I thought, so spending the money was not an issue for me. The other man I was concerned with was Vibius, though I made no comment when I learned that he was unhurt. It was not all bad news, however; the only losses we suffered were with Scribonius’ Century, the rest of the Legion with only a handful of minor wounds to show for the action. We marched back to camp, leaving the watchtower unguarded, Caesar saying that it had served its purpose and would be too much of a problem to continue guarding. This confirmed my suspicions that Scribonius and his men had been nothing but bait, and I simmered with anger at Caesar, though I was still not sure why. He had done similar things more times than I could count; I had never had a problem with it before, and he had used men of the 10th before as well. Perhaps it was that it was my old Century, with my oldest friends.
We did not have everything our way, however. The next night, Gnaeus managed to reinforce the small garrison inside the town by a stratagem of deception. One of his Tribunes, Flaccus, I believe was his name, had spotted the youngsters of the 3rd. Recognizing them for what they were, once it got dark, he went alone to one of the sentry posts, and while pretending to be from Caesar, learned the challenge and watchword. Using that knowledge, he led a force past the youngsters, giving the watchword when challenged, leading his men into the town. Caesar was understandably angry when he learned of what happened, but because of the youth and inexperience of the men, he only had them flogged and not executed, as was his right. We continued the work on the ramp, the final piece before we could assault the city, but the work was slow going because of the weather and with the garrison reinforced, the Pompeians in the city could sally forth to try to destroy the ramp. Ironically, the weather that had been hampering our efforts also was an aid in keeping the enemy from setting fire to the ramp, so they would retire back inside their walls, frustrated in their attempts. In order to discourage their attacks, Caesar ordered that any man captured in their raids be executed in front of the walls, something that he had never done before, which I took as a sign that he was getting as tired and frustrated with the continuing resistance as we were. From our point of view, the matter between the Pompeians and Caesar had long since been decided. The refusal of the Pompeians to recognize that was not only pointless, but also criminal, because we in the ranks had no choice but to obey orders and to continue killing and dying. Because of their stubbornness, we were still huddled in thatch huts, shivering against the cold, worried about where our next meal was coming from, while men like Didius who had survived more fighting than any army in Roman history were being cut down. Now when Caesar gave orders to execute captured men, whereas at one point this would have been an unpopular order, we were now completely willing to carry them out. The fact that these were men just like us, who were only following orders, no longer made any difference to us, and since we could not take out our frustrations on the likes of Gnaeus, Sextus and Labienus, they suffered the brunt of our anger. The townspeople, seeing our treatment of the enemy combatants, began to fear that their fate would be even worse, so one day, perhaps a week into the siege, a lead slingshot was flung at the feet of a Centurion supervising work on the ramp. Since it was obviously not an attempt to kill the Centurion, he correctly interpreted that there was another purpose behind it, picking the missile up. Inscribed was an understandably brief message suggesting a surprise attack should be attempted, while giving the location, along with the expected signal, a shield raised on a standard. The Primus Pilus of the 30th Legion approached Caesar, asking that his Legion be allowed to conduct this operation, to which Caesar agreed. That night, the men of the 30th began tunneling towards the spot indicated in the message, working through the night, with the intention of attacking shortly after first light. The rest of the army was ordered to continue with their normal duties so as not to arouse suspicion. Given that we were now working on the ramp night and day, the work continued normally through the night. Unfortunately, the men of the 30th did not finish their tunneling in time to launch their attack when they had hoped, so it was perhaps a full watch after sunrise before the shield was finally raised to the standard. I do not know if the delay contributed to what happened, but the attack was a disaster. It started out well enough, as the section of wall that the men of the 30th undermined collapsed with a sudden roar and roiling plume of dust, taking with it a couple men unlucky enough to be standing on guard on that section of the wall. The First Cohort of the 10th was standing guard on the rampart of our camp, so they had an unobstructed view of the action. Accordingly, it was Metellus who pointed out the problem that I think was the main cause for what was about to happen. Even as the dust was still settling, the men of the 30th went running towards the gap opened in the wall.
“It’s not wide enough.” Metellus pointed to the hole and I instantly saw that he was right.