If we can’t say exactly
Alarmed at the potential threat on their northern border, the Senate ordered consul Gnaeus Papirius Carbo—brother of the Gracchan land commissioner who had been driven to suicide—to take legions north to guard the frontier. Carbo placed his legions in the principal Alpine passes to make sure the Cimbri did not enter Italy. Whether it was the presence of the legions or because they never planned to enter Italy in the first place, the Cimbri kept moving west into what is today the Austrian Alps. After they bypassed his initial positions, Carbo reformed his legions and followed the Cimbri at a safe distance to monitor their movements and make sure they did not get any ideas about taking a left turn into Italy.5
Eventually, the Cimbri took notice of the Romans and sent ambassadors to meet with Carbo. The consul was surprised by their civilized manners and pleased when they said they sought no quarrel and were simply looking for an uninhabited territory to live in. In an apparent gesture of friendship, Carbo assigned some local guides to show the Cimbri the best route to Gaul—which he said would take them past the city of Noreia. But either because Carbo was genuinely suspicious of Cimbric intentions, or was spoiling for an opportunity to win a triumph, this gesture of friendship was a deadly ruse. Carbo instructed the guides to take the Cimbri on a circuitous route through the mountains while Carbo took his legions on a shortcut to Noreia. There Carbo’s troops took up a hidden position and waited to pounce when the unsuspecting Cimbri finally arrived.6
Philosophers of war have maintained that victory in the field often goes to the general who is either able to choose the terrain of battle or maintain the element of surprise. At Noreia Carbo had both, but it did him little good because he dramatically underestimated the size of the enemy. When Carbo sprang his trap, the legions were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer number of Cimbric warriors, who smashed Carbo’s army and forced them into a disorganized retreat. It was a humiliating defeat.7
Luckily for the Romans, the Cimbri did not follow up their victory by invading Italy. It really did seem like they were searching for a peaceful homeland to settle and had no wish to tangle further with the duplicitous and warlike Romans. But the fate of the two nations was now linked—the Battle of Noreia was only the beginning of the Cimbrian Wars.
EVEN BEFORE THE arrival of the Cimbri, the Senate was not thrilled about the state of their northern border, which now seemed to be under constant and perhaps fatal pressure from migrating hordes.
The trouble began on the Macedonian border in 114. The Scordisci, a Thracian tribe that dominated the Danube, began making incursions south into Roman territory. To stop the incursions, the Senate dispatched consul Gaius Porcius Cato, grandson of the legendary Cato the Elder, but Cato’s army was crushed. With the Roman defenses in Macedonia shattered, the Scordisci overwhelmed the reserve garrisons and carved a wide swath of destruction. One scandalized Roman colorfully described the Scordisci invasion: “They left no cruelty untried, as they vented their fury on their prisoners; they sacrificed to the gods with human blood; they drank out of human skulls; by every kind of insult inflicted by burning and fumigation they made death more foul.” This culminated with the sack of the Oracle of Delphi, one of the most famous and sacred institutions of the Greek world. Though known to hold a rich depository of treasure, the Oracle was protected by its universally recognized sanctity. But as the Scordisci recognized no such sanctity, they plundered Delphi at will.8
