Chapter 91: The Son of Vulcanus The region that Rome called Gaul was vast.
Even excluding the northern part of Italy, known as Gallia Cisalpina, it included all of modern France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Germany west of the Rhine.
This immense land was home to many different tribes and peoples.
While it's difficult to estimate precisely, most scholars agree that the population exceeded five or six million.
There were large tribes, such as the Haedui and the Nervii, with over a hundred thousand members, scattered throughout Gaul. Including smaller tribes, the total number of tribes in the region was nearly a hundred.
The Romans classified the tribes of Gaul into three categories: Gallia Comata, or "long-haired Gauls"; Aquitani; and Belgae.
During the Roman Republic era, much of Gaul remained uncultivated, with more forests and marshes than farmland. However, the region had a mild climate and abundant water, making it suitable for settlement. It was here that Europe's largest grain-producing area would later emerge.
In contrast, Germania, to the east of Gaul, had an inhospitable climate and terrain, making it difficult to sustain large populations. As a result, when the Germans faced food shortages, they frequently crossed the Rhine to raid Gaul.
Had the Gallic tribes united, they could have easily repelled the Germans. Unfortunately, Gaul lacked such unity.
Instead, the tribes often fought among themselves, expanding their power at the expense of others. The weaker tribes, when defeated, sought help from the Germans to reclaim their lands.
In this fragmented environment, the Germans expanded their influence in eastern Gaul with little resistance.
Ariovistus, a German leader who had been granted the title "friend of Rome" by Caesar, became stronger each day.
Originally, the title "friend of Rome" was a reminder that a tribe was under Rome's control and should not act recklessly. However, Ariovistus interpreted it as recognition of his own power by Rome.
Unfazed, he continued to attack the Gauls. Eventually, the Gallic tribes, unable to withstand his raids, began to flee westward.
Even the Sequani, who had originally invited him, were overwhelmed by his power and came under his control.
The Helvetii, a tribe from present-day Switzerland, faced similar problems. Their territory, surrounded by the Alps and Roman provinces, made expansion difficult.
When they encountered the powerful Suebi tribe, a Germanic branch, they found it hard to maintain their existing lands.
Desperate, they decided to invade Brittany in western Gaul.
However, this area was already inhabited by the Santones and Pictones tribes, who had lived there for generations.
Undeterred, the Helvetii prepared for invasion, burning down their twelve cities and 400 villages to strengthen their resolve.
Finally, they gathered nearby smaller tribes, and the total population—combatants and non-combatants—exceeded 350,000, with more than 90,000 warriors.
When Caesar and Marcus received this news and arrived, the Helvetii were already near the Roman province.
Marcus, anticipating this situation, had already assembled his legion.
Caesar, feeling that this was not enough, immediately issued an order.
"We need to form two more legions urgently. Once they are ready, send them north."
"Do we need permission from the Senate?"
"In emergencies like this, a commander can act independently and seek permission later. This is one of those emergencies."
Caesar did not wait for the new legions to form and marched toward the Rhone Valley with the four legions already prepared.
Marcus followed, leading a legion he had assembled using his own funds.
When the Helvetii saw the 30,000 Roman soldiers, they were confused. They outnumbered the Romans three to one in combatants, but their opponents were the highly trained Roman legions.
They could not predict how much damage they would suffer in direct combat.
Moreover, their goal was not to fight Rome, but to migrate to western Gaul.
Desperate, they sent an envoy to Caesar, seeking mediation.
"Our only goal is to avoid the Suebi tribe and migrate westward. O merciful governor of Rome, we promise we will not cause trouble. Please allow us to pass through your province, and we will return south once we have crossed."
"Well… You know the land you wish to pass through is already occupied, right? Did the Santones or Pictones ask you to settle there?"
"No, but…"
"Then you plan to attack them and take their land."
"Isn't it natural for tribes to fight each other? Rome has not intervened in such matters until now, as far as we know."
"That may be true for typical conflicts. But if you drive out the original inhabitants, it will cause chaos, and that disorder could spread throughout Gaul."
The envoy's face darkened. If they could not pass through Roman territory, their only option was to try a western route. However, this path led through the lands of the powerful Haedui and Sequani tribes.
"Is this a refusal, Governor?" the envoy asked.
"Normally, yes. But I will consider your plight. However, even as a governor, I cannot make such a significant decision on my own. I will hold a council to discuss it. Come back in two weeks."
"Thank you. We will return with hope for a positive response."
As the envoy left, Marcus, who had been listening nearby, chuckled and asked, "Shall I order the army to build a fortress?"
"As expected, you understand quickly. It saves me the trouble of explaining," Caesar replied with a smile.
Caesar had no intention of holding a council.
No rational person would allow an invading tribe's army to roam freely through Roman territory.
The council was merely an excuse to buy time to prepare for the Helvetii invasion.
Marcus, understanding Caesar's plan, immediately suggested a course of action.
"I'll order the soldiers to build ramparts along the river and dig trenches. As soon as the new legions arrive, we will put them to work as well."
"Do you plan to command them yourself? You could leave it to another officer."
"There are veteran centurions who don't trust a young officer like me. I need to earn their trust quickly, especially the 12th legion."
Caesar nodded in understanding.
If a commander fails to earn the trust of his subordinates, the outcome of the battle is predetermined. If the centurions don't trust the legionnaire, it could cause confusion in the Roman army's highly structured command system.
"That must never happen in Caesar's legions. I'll give you time, so take control of your legion. If you don't gain the centurions' trust by the time the battle starts, I'll have no choice but to appoint the first centurion of the 12th cohort as the temporary commander."
"I understand. I will take my leave."
With Caesar's approval, Marcus began to act.
He ordered the construction to begin and summoned his entire legion.
Marcus knew he had the support of the ordinary soldiers, having passed policies that benefited citizens, participated in the pirate wars, and helped pacify the East.
Spartacus, the second centurion of the first cohort, was also popular with the soldiers, admired for his legendary battles.
For the new recruits, Spartacus was a living idol, someone they aspired to emulate.
No Roman was unaware that Spartacus had been a warrior in the service of the Crassus family. The soldiers who admired Spartacus naturally had a favorable view of his master, Marcus.
However, it was a different matter for the centurions, especially those who had served in the army for many years.
They acknowledged Spartacus's accomplishments. He had earned great renown for killing enemy generals during the slave revolt and had been awarded a civic crown in the East. His achievements were indisputable.
But there was still unease about Marcus, a young and inexperienced commander, leading a legion.
Of course, no one was foolish enough to express these concerns openly in front of Marcus. He was a representative of the Optimates and heir to one of Rome's wealthiest families. The centurions were more likely to court his favor than to dismiss him outright.
Yet, Marcus, ever perceptive, could sense that most of the centurions did not trust him. On the battlefield, a single decision from a commander could mean the difference between life and death for countless soldiers. It wasn't unreasonable for the centurions to feel that it might be better to act on their own rather than follow the orders of a young, untested legionnaire.
In fact, most centurions responded to Marcus's summons with polite but detached attitudes.
This is why there's such an exclusive culture in the army, Marcus thought with a faint sigh.
As he shook his head slightly, Lucius, the first centurion of the first cohort and the senior officer of the legion, approached him. This position was usually held by the most capable centurion, someone chosen not by a single commander but by consensus among the centurions. Lucius was trusted by everyone in the legion and had the authority to participate in strategic meetings with the commanders.
In short, winning over Lucius was the key to gaining the trust of the legion.
"Legionnaire, why have you summoned only us? I've heard that other legions have already started preparing defenses," Lucius asked.
"A good question. Before we officially go into battle, there are a few things I want to discuss and demonstrate," Marcus replied.
The soldiers' faces lit up with curiosity, while the centurions seemed slightly annoyed, anticipating a long and tedious speech typical of commanders who had spent years in politics.
Marcus smiled at their unspoken thoughts. "As you may know, Caesar, the supreme commander, has given me full discretion to command the 12th legion. I'm sure you all know that your salaries come from my personal funds. Let me assure you, I do not hesitate to reward soldiers who perform well. You'll receive solid rewards and preferential treatment compared to the other legions, based on your individual performance."
The soldiers couldn't help but smile at the mention of rewards. Even the centurions reacted positively—who wouldn't welcome the prospect of more money?
Marcus surveyed their reactions before continuing. "Performance is important, but I believe we all agree that survival is even more crucial. I will not stand by and let my soldiers die in vain. I plan to use the power granted to me to greatly increase your chances of survival. I promise you'll soon be thanking Jupiter that you're assigned to my legion."
One of the centurions raised his hand. "Does this mean our legion will be stationed in the rear?"
Since Marcus was Caesar's son-in-law and a prominent figure in the aristocratic faction, most assumed that he wouldn't be sent into dangerous battles. This made them think his legion would stay behind.
"That's a reasonable assumption, but no. How can you trust and follow a legionnaire who hides behind the lines on the battlefield?" Marcus replied.
"So, how do you plan to increase our survival rate?" the centurion asked.
"Seeing is believing," Marcus said with a grin. "Spartacus, bring it here."
At Marcus's command, Spartacus stepped forward, carrying several thick steel plates. The soldiers and centurions eyed the unfamiliar objects with interest.
"These are the secret to dramatically increasing your chances of survival," Marcus announced. "You can attach them to your armor, like this, to protect your shoulders and chest."
Marcus drove a cross-shaped stake into the ground and donned a lorica hamata, the traditional Roman armor. He then strapped the steel plates over his chest and shoulders, demonstrating how they were worn.
Marcus was testing the quality of the steel he had created, though he didn't yet have full plate armor ready for distribution. Instead, he used this solution as a workaround. The resulting appearance resembled lorica segmentata, the armor of the Roman Empire—though it was far more advanced in terms of protection.
He tapped the steel plates over his armor. "It may look sturdy at first glance, but it's stronger than you can imagine. To put it simply, you won't have to worry about enemy strikes on the parts protected by this armor."
In battle, the most vulnerable areas were the shoulders, chest, and face—especially the chest, which was the largest target. If they could protect these vital areas, it would greatly reduce the chances of a soldier falling in battle.
Marcus pointed to one of the centurions who had shown the most distrust toward him. "You there, your name is Rabius, correct? Show us what you've got."
"Me? What should I do?" Rabius asked.
"Strike that armor with your weapon. If you can pierce it, I'll reward you with 100 denarii."
Rabius hesitated for only a moment. He was confident that no armor, no matter how strong, could withstand a full strike from his weapon. Thinking he'd easily earn the prize, he charged forward with his gladius and struck with all his might.
Clang!
"Argh!" Rabius staggered back, his wrist aching. He couldn't believe his eyes.
The other soldiers and centurions stared in shock. They had never seen a sword bounce off armor like that.
Rabius's gladius had struck the steel plate as if it had hit solid rock. On the other hand, the plate remained completely intact, with no sign of damage.
"What... what is this?" Rabius gasped.
"Are you giving up on the 100 denarii?" Marcus teased.
Rabius shook his head vigorously and pulled out a javelin. He ran toward the plate and hurled it with all his strength. The javelin struck the chest plate directly.
Clang!
The metallic sound echoed as the javelin was deflected, its point shattered, while the steel plate remained undamaged.
"How is this possible? What is this armor made from?" Rabius asked, stunned.
"Do you believe me now? If anyone else can break this armor, I'll keep my promise and give them a reward. Any volunteers?"
As soon as Marcus finished speaking, the soldiers eagerly raised their hands.
"I'll try!"
"Me too!"
"I want a shot at it!"
One by one, soldiers attempted to pierce the steel plate, but none succeeded.
Marcus, with a knowing smile, produced a new gladius made of steel. He had considered using a longer spatha but decided against it—introducing an unfamiliar weapon would be too risky.
He removed the steel plate and slashed the lorica hamata with the new gladius. With a crisp sound, the chainmail tore apart like thin threads. The difference in strength between iron and steel was now clear to everyone.
The soldiers and centurions were stunned, especially the seasoned centurions who had fought on many battlefields. Their faces registered shock and awe.
Marcus enjoyed the reactions, savoring the moment as he stepped closer to the centurions. "Now, do you believe me?"
Lucius, who had recovered first, stammered, "Sir, legion commander… Do you mean we'll wear this armor in the campaign?"
"Of course," Marcus said. "I wouldn't have demonstrated it otherwise. I haven't secured enough for the entire legion yet, but I plan to provide this new armor to all soldiers on the front lines."
A murmur spread among the soldiers, followed by cheers from the front-line legionaries.
"Hail Marcus, the legion commander!"
"The son of Vulcan!"
To the soldiers, the armor that could withstand sword and spear strikes was something out of myth—something they had never expected to see in real life.
For them, Marcus had become a god-like figure, the descendant of Vulcan, the god of fire and metal.
The most competent commander was one who could protect the lives of his soldiers, and Marcus had just demonstrated that with solid proof—armor that could save their lives in battle.
By the end of the demonstration, Marcus had won over the hearts of his legion in a single day—well before the two weeks Caesar had allotted. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he listened to the spirited cheers of his soldiers.
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