But there was no rest for the Roman soldiers that night, nor did they dare to rejoice as though the barbarians were vanquished. For the Teutones were not yet beaten. Even then their wild cries and lamentations over the dead, mingled with threats against their enemy, reached the ears of the Romans. In the darkness the strong soldiers trembled, lest they should be attacked that night, while their camp was defended by neither trench nor rampart.
But although the terrible cries never ceased, the Teutones did not attempt to attack their enemy.
Next morning Marius saw that it would be easy to set an ambush beyond the camp of the Teutones.
So he ordered Marcellus, one of his officers, to take three thousand men and hide them in the thickly wooded hills behind the camp of the enemy. His orders were strict, that Marcellus should not stir from the hill until the Teutones were in the thick of the battle with the main body of the Romans.
The Roman camp was on a hill, and Marius now ordered his cavalry to ride down to the plain.
But when the Teutones saw the horsemen coming toward them, they threw prudence to the winds, and dashed up the side of the hill to meet the enemy.
Marius, who had followed his cavalry with the main body of his army, saw that the steepness of the ground would make the foothold of the Teutones uncertain and their blows less strong than they would have been on the plain.
So he bade his troops to stand and await the attack of the barbarians, and then, after hurling their javelins into the midst of the foe, to force them steadily backward with sword and shield.
Marius himself stood by the side of his men, ready to fight where the danger was greatest.
Against the solid front of the Roman army the Teutones threw themselves in vain. They could not break its ranks. Slowly and in disorder they found themselves being pushed back toward the plain.
At length they were once more on level ground, and immediately they attempted to form their front ranks anew, meaning again to attack the enemy.
Suddenly those in front heard behind them wild cries of despair. Swords flashed in the air, javelins seemed to fall among their ranks as thickly as a storm of fail.
Marcellus, with his three thousand men, had dashed out of his ambush, and had fallen upon the rear of the Teutones.
This was more than the barbarians could bear. With the terrible enemy before and behind, they yielded to panic, broke their ranks, and fled.
The Romans followed, determined that the enemy should not escape, and cut down more than one hundred thousand men.
For long months the bones of the barbarians were left in the field, until at length, bleached clean, they were used by the neighbouring folk to fence their vineyards.
After this great victory, Marius chose the most splendid treasures from the spoil and laid them aside, to grace his triumph when he returned to Rome.
He then ordered the rest to be gathered into one great heap, to be sacrificed to the gods.
Around the huge pile the soldiers were presently gathered, their arms in their hands, their clothes decked with garlands. In their midst stood Marius, wearing a robe with the purple border, and holding aloft a lighted torch with which to set fire to the sacrifice.
But at that moment horsemen were seen in the distance spurring their horses toward the assembled army.
What tidings did they bear? No one in the great gathering stirred until the horsemen rode up, and crying that Marius had been elected Consul for the fifth time, handed him letters from the Senate to tell him of this new honour.
The soldiers were well pleased that their general should be so distinguished, and clashed their shields to show their delight, while the officers crowned him with a wreath of laurel.
Marius then touched the pile of treasures with his lighted torch. The flames leaped up, crackled, and soon the sacrifice was consumed.
CHAPTER XC
Marius Mocks the Ambassadors of the Cimbri
W
HILE
Marius was carrying all before him, his colleague Catulus was in a sorry plight.
He had found it impossible to hold the passes of the Alps against the Cimbri, and had been forced to descend into the plain of Northern Italy. Here he crossed the river Adige, and encamped on its bank.
The Cimbri never doubted that they would be able to conquer the Romans. Already they were elated to find that the passes were not guarded. No tidings of the terrible battle of Aquæ Sextiæ had yet come to daunt their courage.
And so, in the sheer pride of their strength, they flung aside their clothing, and naked, climbed through falling snow and over ice-clad rocks to the top of the mountain passes. Then, turning their broad shields into sledges, they boldly shot down the slopes on the other side.
When they reached the Adige they saw the Roman camp across the river. Before attacking it they determined to dam the stream.
The Roman soldiers, as they watched the barbarians at work, were amazed at their strength.
Giant trees were uprooted and flung into the river as though they were saplings. Huge rocks, too, that seemed beyond the strength of man to move, were hurled into the bed of the Adige as though they were stones. Who could fight with such men as these barbarians seemed to be?
To the dismay of Catulus, his army decided that they could not face such foes, and they began to steal out of the camp. It was evident that soon the whole army would take to flight before it was attacked.
But the Consul could not let the soldiers so disgrace their fame. Rather would he take upon himself the blame of having ordered a retreat. So, seizing the Roman eagle, he hastened with it to the front of his men, and himself led them away.
When the Cimbri saw that most of the Romans had left their camp they crossed the river and captured it, in spite of the brave defence of those who had scorned to turn their backs upon an enemy.
The barbarians showed that they could respect courage, for they spared the lives of these brave soldiers. But before they let them go they made them swear upon their brazen bull to observe certain conditions. Now the brazen bull was to these barbarians sacred as a god.
When, a short time after this, the Cimbri were defeated, the bull was carried away with other spoil, and treasured by Catulus in memory of his victory.
After taking the Roman camp, the barbarians wandered through the plains of Lombardy, burning and plundering wherever they went.
Marius, meanwhile, after his victory over the Teutones and Ambrones, was recalled to Rome, and voted a triumph.
Hearing, however, that Catulus was in danger from the barbarians, he would not stay to celebrate it, but hastened to join his colleague.
The two Consuls met near the river Po, and crossing the river they found the Cimbri at Vercellæ.
Here the barbarians expected each day to be joined by the Teutones and Ambrones.
As they did not wish to fight until their allies arrived, they pretended that they were anxious to make terms with Marius, and sent to ask him to give them land for themselves and their brethren.
"Who are your brethren?" the Consul asked the ambassadors who stood before him.
"The Teutones," answered they.
Those who surrounded Marius laughed, for well they knew what had befallen the Teutones.
"Do not trouble yourselves for your brethren," replied Marius, taunting them, "for we have already provided land for them, which they shall possess for ever."
Then the ambassadors understood that their brethren lay slain upon the ground, and their anger rose. Fearless of danger, they hurled threats at the Consul, saying that the Cimbri and those Teutones who were still left alive would avenge the death of their fellows.
"Their rulers are not far off," cried Marius. "It will be unkindly done of you to go away before greeting your brethren."
Then the kings of the Teutones, who had been captured, were brought before the ambassadors, loaded with chains.
Seeing how these mighty chiefs had been humbled, the ambassadors were silent, and soon after they went back to the Cimbri to tell them what they had heard and seen in the Roman camp.
The Cimbri could not restrain their rage when they knew what had befallen their allies. Three days later they were on the plains of Vercellæ, impatient to avenge their defeat.
Marius, too, was eager for battle. His cavalry, strong as ever, wore that day strange helmets. Each one looked like the head of some strange beast, while above the head waved a lofty plume, that added to the height of the soldier. Their white shields gleamed in the sun, and their breastplates were of iron.
The day began in discomfort for the Cimbri. Cold and frost they could endure, as they had shown when they crossed the Alps, but heat soon made them weak and stupid.
In vain they tried to shelter their faces with their shields. The sun shone in their eyes, beat upon their heads. Clouds of dust, too, were blowing, and hiding them from the Romans, who, not seeing the great numbers arrayed against them, fought the more fearlessly.
To help them to keep their ranks unbroken, the front rows of the Cimbri were fastened together by long chains, which were slipped through their belts. But when the battle went against them these chains were a source of danger.
On this day the Cimbri were worsted, and when the Romans began to cut them down, the chains made it impossible for those in the front to escape.
Those in the rear fled to their camp. But here, as in the camp of the Ambrones, the women, clad in black, mounted upon the wagons and slew their own husbands, brothers, sons, if they ventured to seek refuge from the enemy.
Rather than fall into the hands of the Romans, many of the men and women hanged themselves, after first killing their little children. Although many of the Cimbri died in this terrible way, more than sixty thousand were taken prisoners.
Catulus claimed the victory of Vercellæ as his, and was dissatisfied with Marius, who, he said, did not wish to share the honour with any one.
However that may be, when the Consuls returned to Rome, Marius was offered two triumphs, but he would only accept one, and that one he shared with Catulus.
CHAPTER XCI
Metellus Is Driven from Rome
M
ARIUS
had been Consul five times already, but he was not yet content. He wished to be elected for the sixth time, and he determined to do all he could to gain his end.
But it was no easy task, for now that no enemy threatened Rome, she was ready to cast Marius aside.
Moreover, although on the battlefield Marius was brave above all others, in the Senate or the Assembly of the people his courage deserted him. He knew that he was not eloquent, and he no sooner stood up to speak than he grew timid and ill at ease.
Yet he did his best, and to the people he tried to behave more pleasantly than he felt, and that is at no time an easy thing to do, nor even, it may be, a right thing to attempt. But Marius smiled when he would much rather have frowned, and spoke kindly when a cross answer was hidden in his heart.
Metellus, from whom he had wrested the command of the army, was the man he feared most, and he thought if only he could have him banished from Rome all would be well. Although Marius at once began to plot and plan, it took a long time to get rid of Metellus. But this is how in the end he succeeded.
First, Marius joined Glaucia and Saturninus, who were popular with the people, but too daring not to be hated by the Optimates.
Saturninus had been tribune in 101
B
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C
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, and wished to be re-elected for the following year. When he found that the people had not voted for him, he was so angry that he did not scruple to order his successful rival to be put to death.
The people, subdued by the violence of Saturninus, then gave him the post he coveted without more ado.
Glaucia became prætor for the same year, while Marius achieved his ambition, and was made Consul for the sixth time.
Saturninus now brought forward a bill regarding the division of land. The people would, as usual, be asked to vote for or against this bill, but the tribune added an important clause to his measure, saying that whatever the people voted, to that the senators must take an oath to agree.
Marius, as Consul, pretended to be very angry with Saturninus for adding this clause to his bill, and he said that he, for one, would never take such an oath. The senators, he added, needed to take no oath to make them agree to anything that was for the good of the State.
The other members, among whom was Metellus, were equally indignant, and swore that they would never take the oath demanded by Saturninus. Marius was now satisfied that he had entrapped Metellus.
He himself had promised Saturninus secretly that he would take the oath, and as soon as the people had voted in favour of the bill he did so. Nor did he make any worthy excuse for breaking his word, but, as Consul, advised the other members of the Senate also to agree to the clause which before they had sworn to reject.
When Marius took the oath the people could not control their delight, but broke out into loud applause. But the nobles were angry with the Consul for saying one thing and doing another, yet, because they were afraid of the people, they took the oath, all save Metellus, who refused to break his word.
This was just what Marius had hoped would happen, for he knew that Metellus was too upright a man to stoop to act as he and the other senators had done.
Saturninus now demanded that the Consul should punish Metellus for refusing to confirm the vote of the people. He wished that the senator should be forbidden to stay under the shelter of any roof in the city, that he should be refused the use of fire or water.
The mob went even further, and would have killed Metellus had his friends not defended him.
But Metellus would not allow his friends to fight, telling them that he would leave the city rather than cause strife. "For," said he, "either, when the position of affairs is mended and the people repent, I shall be recalled, or if things remain in their present position it will be best to be absent."