No More Learning

To inspire their courage with the
further incentive of plunder, Vocula led out part of the force against
the neighbouring tribe of the Cugerni,[309] who had accepted Civilis'
offers of alliance. The rest of the troops were left behind with 27
Herennius Gallus,[310] and it happened that a corn-ship with a full
cargo, which had run aground close to the camp, was towed over by the
Germans to their own bank. This was more than Gallus could tolerate,
so he sent a cohort to the rescue. The number of the Germans soon
increased: both sides gradually gathered reinforcements and a regular
battle was fought, with the result that the Germans towed off the
ship, inflicting heavy losses. The defeated troops followed what had
now become their regular custom, and threw the blame not on their own
inefficiency but on their commanding-officer's bad faith. They dragged
him from his quarters, tore his uniform and flogged him, bidding him
tell them how much he had got for betraying the army, and who were his
accomplices. Then their indignation recoiled on Hordeonius Flaccus: he
was the real criminal: Gallus was only his tool. At last their threats
so terrified Gallus that he, too, charged Flaccus with treason. He was
put in irons until the arrival of Vocula, who at once set him free,
and on the next day had the ringleaders of the riot executed. The army
showed, indeed, a strange contrast in its equal readiness to mutiny
and to submit to punishment. The common soldiers' loyalty to Vitellius
was beyond question,[311] while the higher ranks inclined towards
Vespasian. Thus we find a succession of outbreaks and penalties; an
alternation of insubordination with obedience to discipline; for the
troops could be punished though not controlled.

Meanwhile the whole of Germany was ready to worship Civilis, 28
sending him vast reinforcements and ratifying the alliance with
hostages from their noblest families. He gave orders that the country
of the Ubii and Treviri was to be laid waste by their nearest
neighbours, and sent another party across the Maas to harass the
Menapii and Morini[312] and other frontier tribes of Gaul. In both
quarters they plundered freely, and were especially savage towards the
Ubii, because they were a tribe of German origin who had renounced
their fatherland and adopted the name of Agrippinenses.
[313] A Ubian
cohort was cut to pieces at the village of Marcodurum,[314] where they
were off their guard, trusting to their distance from the Rhine. The
Ubii did not take this quietly, nor hesitate to seek reprisals from
the Germans, which they did at first with impunity. In the end,
however, the Germans proved too much for them, and throughout the war
the Ubii were always more conspicuous for good faith than good
fortune. Their collapse strengthened Civilis' position, and emboldened
by success, he now vigorously pressed on the blockade of the legions
at Vetera, and redoubled his vigilance to prevent any message creeping
through from the relieving army. The Batavians were told off to look
after the engines and siege-works: the Germans, who clamoured for
battle, were sent to demolish the rampart and renew the fight directly
they were beaten off. There were so many of them that their losses
mattered little.

Nightfall did not see the end of their task. They built huge fires 29
of wood all round the ramparts and sat drinking by them; then, as the
wine warmed their hearts, one by one they dashed into the fight with
blind courage. In the darkness their missiles were ineffective, but
the barbarian troops were clearly visible to the Romans, and any one
whose daring or bright ornaments made him conspicuous at once became a
mark for their aim. At last Civilis saw their mistake, and gave orders
to extinguish the fires and plunge the whole scene into a confusion of
darkness and the din of arms. Discordant shouts now arose: everything
was vague and uncertain: no one could see to strike or to parry.
Wherever a shout was heard, they would wheel round and lunge in that
direction. Valour was useless: chance and chaos ruled supreme: and the
bravest soldier often fell under a coward's bolt. The Germans fought
with blind fury. The Roman troops were more familiar with danger; they
hurled down iron-clamped stakes and heavy stones with sure effect.
Wherever the sound of some one climbing or the clang of a
scaling-ladder betrayed the presence of the enemy, they thrust them
back with their shields and followed them with a shower of javelins.