Chapter 200 : Falling Constellations

Word of what happened along the Rhodanus did not take long to reach Rome.

Passed from one signal tower to the next, the dispatch reached Rome in just half a day.

Amid the uneasy murmurs of citizens gathered in the Forum, a herald unfurled the newly arrived dispatch and raised his voice.

"Without warning or formal declaration of war, the Helvetii have crossed the river, violating the sacred boundaries of the Republic! The fate of Proconsul Pomptinus remains unknown..."

Dread and shock rippled through the gathered crowd.

"Geneva? Isn’t that where young Caesar led the sons of the nobility just recently?"

"What happened to Caesar?!"

"Lucius Caesar rallied the shattered cohorts on the field and oversaw an orderly withdrawal! He currently holds Geneva! However, with Proconsul Pomptinus and most of the senior commanders missing, it remains unclear who holds imperium in the region..."

The herald swept one arm across the crowd, his voice booming over the sea of anxious faces.

"The Senate is taking every measure to restore peace and order to Gaul! At the upcoming Popular Assembly—"

Had it been any other foe, the plebeians might have reacted with measured concern. But these were Gauls.

The very same Gauls who had crushed a Roman army at the Allia centuries ago and put the glorious city to the torch.

And now, word of legionary defeat in the north had reached the city.

Amid the creeping dread, another emotion flared white-hot: pure, unadulterated fury.

"Attacking us without a declaration of war?! The very honor of our Republic is at stake!"

"If we let mere barbarians trample our dignity, what will the rest of the world think? All of Gaul will take us for fools!"

From senators to ordinary citizens, Romans united in a clamor for vengeance.

Under such intense public pressure, the Popular Assembly moved with unprecedented haste, rushing through a measure granting Pompey extraordinary imperium.

The newly introduced public opinion polling played a decisive role in clearing the political hurdles.

"What’s your take on this?"

"Gaul must be pacified if we want to sleep soundly in our beds. Who knows when those savages might march down into Italy?"

With heralds, newspapers, and public opinion polls all reinforcing one another, Roman consensus crystallized faster than ever before.

As the assembly ratified his command, Pompey climbed the Capitoline Hill in full armor, offering solemn sacrifices to Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

"O Gods, protect our Republic!"

Nearby, the massive gates of the Temple of Janus stood flung wide open. Closed only in times of universal peace, those doors had stood ajar for generations.

The message was clear.

The Roman war machine had begun to turn in earnest.

***

"What did the dispatch from Rome say?"

"The assembly ratified Pompey’s extraordinary imperium," Antony replied. "And the moment the bill passed, Pompey named you a military tribune."

"I don’t recall agreeing to any such appointment."

I set aside the paperwork in my hands.

Ever since the disaster on the Rhodanus, I had been drowning in triage. With Helvetian forces still pouring across the river, maintaining our defensive perimeter, tending to the wounded, and reorganizing broken cohorts was a nightmare.

And because Pomptinus and most of his legates were still missing, command of the entire front had fallen squarely into my lap.

"Word of you leading the withdrawal reached Rome, and now everyone in Rome is singing your praises." Antony said with a chuckle. "Pompey trusts your judgment too. If you hadn’t stepped up with the cavalry, the entire legion would have been butchered at the riverbank. Isn’t it only natural that everyone is pinning their hopes on you?"

"But military tribune..." I muttered.

A tribunus militum was a high-ranking military position, responsible for everything from administration and discipline to leading tactical detachments in battle.

Military tribunes could be elected by the assembly or appointed directly by the commander-in-chief. It wasn’t shocking that Pompey would give me the title.

What shocked me was that Pompey had ordered me to take charge of every Roman soldier around Geneva until he arrived. That was a level of boldness only Pompey could muster.

"So, what do we do?" Metellus broke his silence. "The 10th Legion lost over a third of its strength in the opening clash. We saved them from total destruction, but they took a crippling blow."

"And the other legions are made up entirely of raw conscripts," I added.

Pomptinus had mobilized three legions for this campaign: the 10th, the 11th, and the 12th.

The 10th was composed of seasoned veterans, intended to serve as the iron fist against the Helvetii. By contrast, the 11th and 12th were fresh conscripts, relegated to holding the fortifications or sitting in reserve.

With our veteran core battered and demoralized, all I had left were two green legions jumping at shadows.

Worse, the 11th was spread thin across a defensive perimeter stretching for miles.

"And the Helvetii are bringing more warriors across the river even at this moment," I said, studying the map on the table.

With the Roman threat neutralized, the barbarians had begun their crossing in full force.

What was the right move?

No matter how many times I ran through the possibilities in my head, there was only one logical conclusion.

I tapped a spot on the map.

"We must abandon the defensive line."

"Retreat?!" Antony raised his voice. "You want to abandon the ramparts entirely? Just let those Helvetian dogs march into central Gaul as they please?"

"The only force holding that line right now is the 11th Legion," I replied calmly. "And they’re stretched paper-thin."

Pomptinus’s original doctrine was sound on paper: hold a long perimeter with trenches and watchtowers, identify the enemy’s crossing point, and commit the veteran 10th to crush them at the water’s edge.

"With the 10th out of commission, holding that defensive line serves no tactical purpose. If we stay spread out like this, the Helvetii will mass their forces at a single point and punch through with ease."

"And any cohorts on the flanks would be completely cut off," Metellus said, nodding grimly as he caught on. "We’d be defeated in detail. Lucius is right. So, what do you propose instead?"

"We pull back every man and concentrate our forces right here, in Geneva. Let them try cracking a concentrated garrison."

"If we withdraw now, rumors will spread that Rome fled before the Helvetii." Antony argued, scowling. "If that impression spreads across Gaul, our allied tribes might switch allegiances."

"We already lost on the Rhodanus," I countered. "If we suffer another defeat in the field, things will spiral past the point of no return. We need to make a hard choice."

In war, an hour’s hesitation could cost thousands of lives.

I didn’t have the luxury of weighing every possibility.

"Besides, even if we pull back from the river, the Helvetii can’t simply ignore us and march merrily into Gaul."

"Why not?"

"Because as long as we hold Geneva, we’ll threaten their supply lines and flank." I tapped the map again. "Moving hundreds of thousands of civilians, herds, and supply wagons across a river is a logistical nightmare. With a concentrated Roman force threatening their flank from Geneva, they can’t afford to bypass us. They’ll have no choice but to lay siege to the city first."

"Holding Geneva gives us the anvil we need until Pompey arrives," Metellus mused. "And to hold the city, we desperately need the 11th Legion."

"Exactly."

"But executing that withdrawal won’t be simple," Metellus sighed. "The Helvetii are already probing our defenses. Pulling thousands of green recruits out of the trenches without the enemy noticing..."

"Is practically impossible," I finished for him.

Metellus was right. If the Helvetii caught even the slightest sign of a full withdrawal, they would immediately attack our retreating men from the rear.

To pull the 11th back safely, we needed a clever distraction.

Antony let out a bored yawn. "Why make it so complicated? Just prop up straw dummies along the ramparts and slip away under cover of darkness."

"Savages or not, they aren’t blind," Metellus shot back. "They’ll spot the ruse immediately unless their attention is drawn elsewhere."

"Diverting their attention, you say..." I murmured.

That was indeed the cleanest solution.

"Then we should stage a diversion."

"A night sortie is out of the question," Metellus said firmly. "Especially with the 12th. Green recruits fighting in pitch-black darkness will panic, lose their heads, and slaughter each other before they even find the enemy."

"We don’t need to fight them. We just need to keep their attention fixed somewhere else."

As both men looked at me in confusion, I laid out the specifics of the plan.

"As you said, Metellus, the enemy will never expect an aggressive night action from a defeated army. Which means..."

I had brought something along when I hastily departed Rome. Something I had originally prepared as an extravagant novelty for Julia.

When I finished explaining, Antony threw his head back and burst into laughter.

"That is utterly insane. Gloriously insane! Here I thought you were going to pull out giant kites again... To think you had something this absurd hidden away!" He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye.

"Can I lead the vanguard for this one?"

***

"Charge! Sweep the Roman dogs from the line!"

"Hold the ditch! Keep firing the scorpiones!"

Following their victory over the 10th Legion, the Helvetii kept up relentless pressure on the Roman perimeter.

As their warriors continued streaming across the river, they probed for a weak point in the Roman defensive line.

Torsion bolts, arrows, heavy javelins, and lead sling bullets crisscrossed the air.

The struggle between the attackers trying to breach the line and the defenders fighting for their lives grew increasingly savage.

Predictably, the green recruits of the 11th Legion reached their limit first. Unlike the barbarians, who constantly cycled fresh warriors into the fray, the Romans had to fight without a moment’s respite.

"Relief will arrive from Geneva soon! Hold the line a little longer!"

"Dammit, we’re all going to die here..."

"Wouldn’t it be better to just lay down our arms?"

"Surrender just to become a barbarian’s slave? I’d rather fall on my own blade."

From exhausted legionaries to battle-weary centurions, men began writing their wills, bracing for the inevitable slaughter.

It was at that desperate juncture that orders from Lucius Caesar arrived.

"Prepare to withdraw? With the savages breathing down our necks, how are we supposed to pull back?!"

"He says he’ll send a signal tonight and that we should watch the sky. I have no idea what he means by that."

"Look to the sky... I’m not sure either, but get the men ready anyway."

And when midnight fell, every soul on that riverbank learned exactly what Lucius had meant.

***

"We have assembled more than enough warriors. We’ve pinpointed the weak points in their line, so breaching it will be trivial," Divico said, gesturing toward the crude map.

As the chieftains gave their reports, Orgetorix sat in commanding silence.

Divico clicked his tongue in irritation at the sight. Following the victory at the riverbank, Orgetorix’s prestige had climbed to unprecedented heights.

Even if the Roman cavalry had prevented a total massacre, besting a Roman legion in open battle was a monumental triumph.

Secret envoys from other Gallic tribes were already arriving in their camp, eager to curry favor.

Divico despised the man’s growing arrogance, but for the sake of the Helvetii, he held his tongue.

The tribe mattered more than personal pride.

"We launch the full offensive in two days," Orgetorix declared, rising to his feet. "Have everything in order by then. The Roman garrison left in Geneva will undoubtedly attempt a sortie to relieve their comrades."

Their strategy was brutal and simple: use overwhelming numbers to shatter the Roman line, isolate the Roman pockets and destroy them one by one.

Even if Geneva sent reinforcements, they had more than enough warriors to block the relief column.

"Feed the men well. Spare no meat."

"Our grain supplies are already thin," Divico warned. "We cannot afford to waste rations so carelessly—"

Before he could finish, an alarm gong shattered the night.

"Enemy attack! The Romans are upon us!"

"What?!"

Divico, Orgetorix, and their chieftains bolted out of the command tent.

"Have they completely lost their minds?" Divico spat, peering into the gloom. "Attacking us in the dead of night?!"

Whether you were a disciplined legionary or a fierce Gallic warrior, night battles were considered sheer insanity.

In the pitch black, friend could not be told from foe, and maintaining formation or maneuvering troops was practically impossible.

No sane commander willingly chose a night battle.

Yet there was one crucial detail the Helvetian chieftains had failed to grasp.

The enemy commander they were dealing with had never claimed to be in his right mind.

"To arms! Wake everyone up!"

"What are those Roman dogs plotting...?"

As Divico muttered the words, a blinding flash of yellowish-white light tore open the heavens.

***

"Keep moving! Loose on the gallop!"

Antony roared with laughter, aiming his bow high into the air.

"Light your fuses! Loose!"

The riders drew custom arrows fitted with thick paper cylinders, touched the fuses to the flames of their lanterns, and drew their bows.

They weren’t aiming at the barbarian tents.

They were aiming straight up into the pitch-black sky.

BOOM!

CRACK-CRACK!

A series of deafening explosions echoed across the riverbank, loud enough to rattle teeth on the far side of the river.

Sleeping Helvetian warriors stumbled out of their tents in terror, craning their necks toward the sky.

Flashes of yellowish-white light were followed by cascading showers of bright gold. Blinding showers of sparks poured from the sky like radiant liquid fire.

"The stars! The stars are falling from the sky!"

"Do not panic! It is only the ash of fire! Form your ranks!" the chieftains screamed, trying desperately to restore order, but their shouts were drowned out by the thundering concussions overhead.

Terror-stricken warriors dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in the dirt.

"Taranis is enraged!"

"The god of thunder has cursed us!"

It wasn’t just the men who broke.

The Helvetian horses went wild, rearing and kicking through the camp in blind panic, trampling tents and spreading chaos like a plague.

Meanwhile, Antony and his cavalry wheeled in a wide, sweeping arc, loosing volley after volley of screaming firework arrows.

Their mounts had been carefully desensitized to the flashes and blasts of gunpowder back in Rome.

"Keep firing! Buy the 11th enough time to withdraw! Don’t let up!"

Amid the deafening thunder and terrified screams of the barbarians, dazzling blossoms of light bloomed across the night sky like falling constellations.

And under cover of that blazing display, the legionaries of the 11th slipped away from the ramparts and vanished into the darkness.