I probably overdid the whole Scipio/Longus argument (there's another one at the end of Day 2). *shrug* I'm no historian, so sue me...
Enjoy (a tad to technical to, though, I think)
Bubi
Trebbia - Part One
While we had fought at Ticinus, the Gauls started to shift their allegiances, and showed early signs of their fickleness that would be of concern to both sides. Unknown to us in Scipio the Elder’s camp, the Senate had already recalled Tiberius Sempronius Longus from Sicily, and he had dismissed his Legions to rendezvous in Ariminium later that year. Chances were, he would be in command when the first full army versus army encounter would come to pass, and everyone in the camp was anxious for their commander to recover. And so, barely a month after the skirmish, we had hastily retreated to winter just south-east of Placentia, which was thankfully still loyal to us, albeit rather dubiously. Hannibal and his army had crossed the Po and were a few miles west of the Trebbia tributary, camped on a low ridge in the valley, forces bolstered by the presence of several thousand Gallic ‘allies’. And the cavalry that was supposedly friendly with Rome was now with them, which ceaseless rankled at both the Scipiones. Scipio the Elder had recovered slightly, but he was unable to walk without help. Indeed he was irritated beyond belief when Longus arrived with two legions and Latin allies, along with roughly another two legions worth of nigh useless levies that he had picked up along his haphazard march, a total force of roughly twenty-two or twenty-three thousand. As the older of the two, and with the larger army of almost twice Sempronius’ numbers, Publius’ father should have been in command, but the former had other ideas as he made his camp just west of Placentia, a most inconvenient place as far as we were concerned, as the unpredictable townsfolk served as an effective buffer against any attack that the Carthaginians may have made. The two consuls had not even seen each other yet and things were already off to a bad start.
“They look almost as young as we do,” I commented as we watched maniples of hastati and Italian levies tromp past us, my breath steaming up in the chill December air.
“And what does that tell you?” he replied, looking into the distance, across the valley at where the fires of the enemy camp flickered.
“Inexperience, and from the look of them, most are impatient to get this over and done with. And the rest don’t want to be here.”
“Indeed,” Publius curled his lip up in contempt and turned his horse around.
We headed back into the camp and made our way to the command marquee where Sempronius had made himself comfortable, along with his staff.
“Well, Scipio, I’d like to make my army comfortable first before we decide on any particular course of action, though I’d like to do away with this African before winter’s out.”
“As would I,” Publius’ father looked and sounded tired, and he had become rather haggard in appearance, no thanks to an infection that the medici were lucky to notice early, “But let us not allow haste to disrupt logical thought in our operations against this Carthaginian, Sempronius. He has won more than his fair share of victories allows, so we must remain wary until he is dead. I imagine he will be as vermin: cunning; difficult to catch; and even more difficult to kill. And don’t forget who his father was.”
“Yes, yes, quite,” the younger consul stood and inclined his head, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Scipio, I must see to my castra. We will discuss this further later.”
“I watched him leave, and wondered at his manner. He was definitely young for a consul, being barely forty years of age, and I was sure that a part of him wanted the victory now, because of the upcoming consular elections for 535 which meant that he would lose his chance for a Triumph. Once he and his officers had quite the chamber, Scipio the Elder beckoned the few senior officers present closer to him. As the praetors and tribunes neared, he held out a hand, and an attendant quickly gave him a cup of watered wine.
“Thank you,” he muttered hoarsely, before addressing us, “Reports please, and preferably accurate ones, I’m not sure I trust that man.”
“Two legions, with cavalry, all full strength,” Gaius Atilius said, holding up a wax tablet, “Two allied Latin legions and two thousand Italian cavalry. And let us not forget the eight thousand levies that he picked up on his way from Ariminium.”
“No, let’s forget them, really,” Lucius Manlius hissed, “Anyway, I wouldn’t put much stock in his legions though, since they are newly raised and need drilling, much more so than our own.”
“Ha, that’s hardly surprising1” the consul said derisively, “Half the principles and triarii we have saw marine experience during the first war with these Phoenicians. No, rather idiotically, his main resource will be the Latins... despicable!”
Scipio the Younger looked at the praetors who both shook their heads at him wearily. Despite this, Atilius cleared his throat and continued.
“Both the allied legions are severely under strength, almost half strength, together they make less than five thousand. I’m sure we can all add,” he finished uncomfortably.
“Any funditores?” Scipio the Elder asked, taking another sip of water.
“No, and therein lies our problem,” Manlius poured himself a cup of water and sat down heavily next to his commander, grumbling unnecessarily, “our scouts reported something like eight thousand Balearics. They’ll be able to leech us of morale before needing to draw swords if they wished to.”
“I’d rather you not entertain such thoughts with the enemy so close at hand,” the consul said, reprimanding him, “but since you’re on the subject: enemy numbers and disposition... again, please.”
“Not much has changed in the last few days. Numbers are steady at between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and fifty thousand including camp followers. But by the looks of things, Hannibal doesn’t trust about a third of them.”
“Neither would any of us, including those two,” Atilius gestured at me and Publius, “So I can hardly blame him.”
“Yes... but regardless of how he feels about his Gallic... friends, how they feel about him will work to our advantage, given time,” Scipio the Elder thoughtfully.
He set his cup down and picked up a small stack of tablets, poring over them for a few moments.
“Son, your thoughts please,” he said suddenly, taking both of us by surprise.
He looked at the praetors, who both nodded, this time, and they acceded him his father’s attention, even though the old man was still studying the tablets. After a few moments of silence, he lowered them and looked at his son.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“Ah, no, Father, I’m just thinking,” Publius replied, and he really was thinking about it.
His father grinned and the praetors and a few of the tribunes smirked as well.
“Think for as long as you...”
“We wait,” the reply cut him off, “Hannibal has a very large army, and it will consequently be unwieldy: very unwieldy, and it is nearing the winter solstice. Thus, a large army is a hungry army, and they will be a massive strain on those areas that they’ve conquered.”
“Astute of you,” his father nodded, “And you Gaius?”
I blinked, not expecting to contribute.
“I’m not entirely sure, sir,” I replied, trying to think of something to say while stalling them.
Bizarrely, he laughed, “Come now, Gaius, you’re not a politician...”
“Yet!” Manlius chuckled.
“Quite, but regardless, you are part of my retinue and allowed your opinion.”
“Of course, sir, but whether you will consider it is another matter,” I replied, trying to grin.
“Ha! The boy understands it well, Publius,” the old praetor slapped me on the back, guffawing.
“Yes, he does, but even so, I have asked for his thoughts on the matter,” the consul sat up and frowned, bringing silence to the council once again.
“I agree with all that has been said here thus far,” I started carefully, “I’ve had a brief survey of the land between their camp and Placentia, which is effectively a box, flanked by their camp and the river with woodland to the north and a great deal of undergrowth and bracken and rubbish to the south. So, they’ll feel safe right where they are, and won’t be inclined to take the fight to us. If we can sow discontent among his so-called allies, so much the better. We will deprive him of a fair part of his army, though the winter will do that as well. And if we’re lucky, they’ll be in little state to fight during the next campaign season. Also, we need the time to bring Sempronius’ legions up to battle readiness.”
“Well gentlemen, it looks as though we are of one mind. We winter here and keep the Carthaginians hemmed in. When we do fight, what allies he will have will be unreliable at best, so he won’t be able to bring his full numbers to bear, and that will work to our advantage. Though, young Laelius has touched on a point that is quite important. Sempronius’ legions are in no fit state to fight, so they will need to be drilled while we winter here. He’ll have to make do with occupying the centre of the line when it comes down to wrestling it out. I think our auxiliaries are better prepared than his Romans, even if it disgusts me to say so. And why in the name of the gods did he camp on the other side of the town?!”
“I suspect he’s looking for a fight,” Scipio the Younger said dryly.
The consul made a sound of obvious disdain and laid himself back down again, a grimace coming to him as he felt his side.
“Excuse me, sir,” Atilius nodded and gestured for his fellow praetor to follow him out.
Publius and I also excused ourselves and went out to get some food with the other younger officers.
“I imagine things are going to be tense between the two armies,” Vitellus said as we neared his campfire.
“Yes, both sides will be on tenterhooks for a good few months, eyeing each other nervously, I suppose,” Publius sat himself down as I picked up a couple of bowls and tossed one over to him.
“No, you mistake me, Scipio,” the veteran looked at my friend and grinned, “I meant your father’s army and Sempronius’ army.”
I smirked and Publius grinned, “Yes, things might prove to be worse between those two than between Romans and Carthaginians.”
“Ah, the joys of politics,” Vitellus shook his head, raised his cup in a mock salute and made himself comfortable, before tearing into a small loaf of bread.
Publius and I followed his example and tucked into our stew.
The following day, we attended council early to see if anything was going to come about thanks to the presence of Sempronius and his four legions. In the command tent, Scipio the Elder was still pale and wan, but still better than he had been over the last month. Seated at a tablet and map strewn table, three tribunes and the two praetors were assembled with him. News of the competence of us two youths had gone around and the five officers acknowledged our presence with polite nods. Publius nodded back and strode over and stood beside Manlius.
“Has Sempronius decided on anything?” he asked quietly so as not to disturb his father’s thinking, “Meaningful, I mean.”
“We haven’t receive any messages yet, not even a cursory call to conference,” the praetor replied, and the annoyance was there to hear.
“I doubt he’s even awake, given the hour, or lack thereof,” I commented bluntly.
Publius and Manlius looked at me and I justr shrugged. The sun was yet to rise this day and while we had eaten breakfast, I decided on a whim to send Vitellus and a single turma from Atilius’ legion to see what was going on across the valley, if anything. They came back two hours later and reported that nothing was going on... anywhere. Fires were being lit, but there was little to no activity in either the Carthaginian camp or the other Roman castra beyond obligatory patrols and guard duties. In contrast, everyone in our camp was up, preparing breakfast (or eating it) or making ready to conduct their morning drills. The more fervent Joveans were consulting with the priests in the camp, and a few scouting parties had already departed and returned. In his foresight, Scipio the Elder had ordered all the velites to don the Gallic trousers and shirts beneath their kilts and tunics to keep warm. They did so reluctantly, but given the frequent precipitation of sleet and snow, both the praetors made comments to the effect that appearance made little difference if one was about to lose their limbs to the cold. And thought it was not so cold that that would happen, it still made a great deal of sense.
“In that case, better to beat these Africans now, so we can warm ourselves by the fires in our own homes instead of suffering chills up here,” Sempronius had arrived at the second hour and immediately started to complain about the weather.
“Longus, we should not be too hasty,” the older consul replied wearily, “I am yet to gain a full survey of this entire area, essentially all of which could be considered a battlefield. Know that we are at a disadvantage currently. Hannibal outnumbers us and since we have separate camps, there is little except Roman building technology preventing him from defeating both of us piecemeal. Thankfully same said technology is currently enough of a deterrent. Together, we can muster barely seventy thousand troops, of which I command no less than two thirds.”
“Yes, yes, you need not remind us all of your seniority, we are well aware of it,” Sempronius’ veneer of civility was starting to crack, “The question remains of what we are going to do.”
Scipio the Elder sat quietly for a few moments before replying.
“We winter here, for a number of reasons. For the good of both our armies, they must train and grow accustomed to fighting in this atrocious weather should it come to is. For the good of the local people, they must take the time to realise that Carthage will be a worse master than Rome: mercenaries are not good for an empire as events will soon prove, while citizen troops are. For the good of Roman command, we need to draw into a single camp preferably just east of Placentia. And for the good of my self, I need to recover. And all the while we stay here: we will receive reinforcements while they will lose theirs. We will fight on Roman terms, so we need to be careful of any provocation he provides us.”
The chamber was silent as we took in what he said.
“No, I cannot agree with that, Scipio,” the consul shook his head, “Using your words, for the good of Rome, we need to be rid of this invasion of aliens as soon as possible. Should we winter here, only to defeat them in the spring, what will our people say: that we should have beaten them earlier to save them the nightmares while they slept?”
“What ‘our people’ say is of little consequence. Conjecture of what may or may not happen is neither here nor there, Longus. Our sole purpose here is to fix Hannibal and ensure that he remains pinned, during which time we formulate a plan to neutralize the threat he poses, before he deals us another severe blow.”
“Deal us? Or deals you?”
“Have a care of your language, boy!” Manlius barked, getting to his feet.
“Why should I, old man? I’ve done more over the last few months than just give Hannibal free march into Italy. Rome’s influence has increased with little to thank you for.”
“Oh yes, I heard about that little affair in Miletus. Four legions against three thousand peasant levies, a great victory you scored for yourself, consul!” his derision could get hardly any worse.
“That is more than I can say for you, former-consul. Your days of glory are long past, and Scipio will probably not see any by the looks of things.”
Publius’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the tablets he was holding, just as his father’s back straightened, and the praetors did not take kindly to the insults either, tactless as they were. And not did I take kindly to it either. It took me a while amidst the tense atmosphere to realise that mine was not the only hand that strayed to his sword. On each side, each consul was flanked by his retinue.
“Enough!” Scipio the Elder finally snapped, “Sempronius, if you wish to make this personal, I’d rather you did so out of my presence. Now, unless you have something more constructive than potential propaganda to contribute, I’d suggest you heed my advice.”
Any reply the other consul was about to give was interrupted by the entrance of an officer from his legions. He went up to one of the tribunes and they conversed quickly. The tribune then relayed the intelligence to the consul.
“It would be helpful if information was forthcoming to us all.”
Sempronius turned to Scipio the Elder with a sneer.
“It seems as though Hannibal is the one seeking a fight. I will oblige him, because you clearly won’t.”
And wit hthat he turned on his heels, loudly handing orders out to his tribunes.
“Attius, assemble the Italian cavalry and one thousand of the Lagin infantry, we’re moving out to...”
The rest of it was lost amid the shuffling of his officers as he left. However, we had heard enough.
“Provocation, indeed!” Publius said loudly, more to vent his frustration than to be heard, “That’s barely a nudge!”
“Publius!” his father called, prompting a coughing fit.
The earlier irritation with Sempronius was instantly replaced with concern for Scipio the Elder as one of the tribunes called the physicians. Shortly after, though, he recovered, though the doctor remained close at hand.
“Publius,” he spoke with a low voice, “Take Gaius and cavalry from Atilis’ legion to find out what’s going on, but don’t get involved. Lucius, take a few scouts across the Po, and check that we’re not about to be overwhelmed by a flanking force. I don’t want to take any chances with Sempronius running amok.”
“Yes, sir,” Publius saluted his father, and Manlius followed suit.
“What think you?” Atilius asked as the scribes in the staff noted down the consul’s orders.
“Raiding and pillaging,” he replied, handing over a tablet with a short message on it, “The Gauls that Hannibal has supposedly liberated wanted to maintain their neutrality. Apparently, Hannibal took issue with that and I was right. He will lose allies quickly and waste his energies in keeping them under heel. These Celomani sent an embassy for aid, as you know, and this is why. Take your legion and one of the allied legions over to Sempronius’ camp.”
“Sir?”
We were all taken aback by this.
“For now, it will be ostensibly for the purpose of unity, especially after this morning’s farce, but I want you to keep an eye on him. He’ll know what’s going on, and hopefully, he won’t be so foolish as to force a pitched battle. Send a report to me by this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have your orders gentlemen.”
And so we did. A scribe handed me mine and Publius’, so we left to gather Atilius’ cavalry.
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