Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part II-Cleopatra

by Peake, R. W.

  Arriving at my tent without being seen, I pushed through the front flap, startling Diocles, who was dozing in his chair behind his desk. He took a look at what I was carrying, his eyes growing as wide as denarii as he sat upright.

  “Master, may I ask what you're doing?”

  “I'm hiding a body,” I replied in what I assumed was a reasonable tone.

  “In here???” Diocles jumped to his feet, obviously alarmed.

  “Where else?” Despite my grim cargo, I was trying suppress a laugh at the sight of Diocles so upset. “Nobody would think to search my quarters and who knows, if things don't go well in a couple of thirds of a watch, I might be joining Sacrovir.”

  It was a grim joke, but it was not far off from being the truth. Deciding to put Sacrovir in my private quarters, my reasoning was that since we were supposed to be leaving the tents behind, it would give me at least a few thirds of a watch before scavengers came poking about to see if anything valuable was left behind. By that time, our collective fates would be decided one way or the other, making it of little matter if we failed and he was discovered. If we were successful in our endeavor, I would be returning to the tent and I could decide what to do about the body then. I placed the body under my cot, after thinking about putting him in it before discarding the idea. Sacrovir was a small man, so when I stuffed him against the far wall, he was almost completely out of sight. Draping a blanket over the edge of the cot, I knew that it would look odd, but I did not want anyone happening to come into my private quarters immediately spotting the body. Calling again for Diocles, I told him to bring some water to wash the blood off my hands while I checked myself carefully for Sacrovir’s blood. There was a small stain on my tunic, but it would be hidden by my armor, so I did not change again. Diocles returned and I washed quickly, knowing that time was running short. Once I dressed myself, I took care to don my decorations, despite there being no real reason for it. However, I wanted to let my record of all that I had done for Rome be visible, not only to Antonius and Cleopatra, but the men. Once I was satisfied, I stepped into the outer office to find Balbus, Scribonius, and Macrianus standing there.

  “Is it done?” Scribonius asked the question and I gave Diocles a surprised look, since I had expected that he would tell the others.

  Instead, he just shook his head. I told Scribonius that I had indeed taken care of Sacrovir.

  “Where's the body?”

  In answer, I just jerked a thumb over my shoulder towards my private quarters, but it took them a moment to comprehend.

  Scribonius and Balbus exchanged a puzzled look, then Balbus asked, “Are you saying that you dumped him in your tent?”

  I nodded. For several heartbeats, nothing was said, all three men staring at me as if I had lost my mind, then Balbus roared with laughter, slapping his thigh at the idea. The others joined in, and it was contagious, all of us standing laughing for several moments until tears were streaming from our eyes and we were gasping for breath.

  “I will say this for you, Titus,” Scribonius managed to gasp. “You're not boring.”

  Emerging from the tent after a quick conference, it was decided that I would postpone the actual act to the last possible moment. This was to avoid giving Antonius time to react by sending other Legions after us, which was the one possibility that worried me the most. I knew the men would defend themselves and in truth, especially if Antonius sent the Eastern Legions after us, they would not have any problem in cutting them down, both physically and mentally. However, I did not believe that Antonius would be that stupid, no matter how angry he might be. He would most likely send Balbinus’ 12th, which was almost as veteran as the 10th, and perhaps the 19th as well. Not forgetting that I was certain Balbinus was an agent of Octavian, I still could not afford to risk everything on that belief. Therefore, I had to be prepared for the possibility that the 12th would come after us. If we refused to march out of the camp and down to the ships designated for our use, it would give Antonius too much time in which to react, not to mention that if we were forced to fight, doing so in camp would be the worst possible spot.

  The bucina of the Praetorium sounded the call to start the day, prompting the Centurions and Optios to leap into motion, yelling and cursing at the men to rouse them. From all outward appearances, it was just a normal day of an army on the move, the men moving quickly and smoothly, albeit not very happily. As I walked the Legion streets, I watched carefully, but I saw no signs that the men were aware that momentous events were about to occur, other than a possible sea battle, of course. They were grumbling quite a bit about the idea of having to fight on the pitching deck of a ship, another sign that none of the Centurions or Optios had said a word. Only Gaius appeared even more tense than normal so I took him aside to calm him down and assure him that all was proceeding as planned to this point, reminding him to keep his mouth shut about what he knew. He was slightly offended that I should admonish him about it, but at that moment, I did not particularly care about his feelings. All around the camp the sounds of men rousing to start their day broke the pre-dawn stillness, where just moments before it had been completely silent. For reasons I did not understand the feeling of nerves and near-panic that I experienced the whole night had disappeared, and I was as calm as I had ever been before a battle, despite my hope that this would be a bloodless one. Perhaps it was because I was committed now; I had thrown the dice, and now it was just a matter of seeing if they came up Venus or Dogs. There was no reason to be nervous at this point and I made sure that I bantered with the men, chided a few of them, while with a couple of them who were moving particularly slowly, gave them a smack with my vitus. Some of the more sharp-eyed among them seemed to notice that I was wearing my decorations, yet no comment was made. A few moments later, the bucina sounded the call for all Primi Pili to report to the Praetorium. Taking a deep breath, I turned to head for the meeting with Antonius and Cleopatra, where we would be told which ships we were loading onto. Or not, as the case may have been.

  Entering the Praetorium, I saw that perhaps half the Primi Pili had arrived to that point. The Tribunes were mostly present, along with the Legates. Antonius was there, dressed not in his ceremonial armor, but in a relatively plain cuirass, although it was still inlaid with gold while the curled edges were leafed in the same material. His greaves matched his cuirass and his paludamentum was about his shoulders, freshly laundered and bright. Cleopatra stood beside him, also wearing her armor, minus the helmet, which she carried under her arm. She stood stiffly and I knew that she wanted to strike a martial pose, but anyone with a set of eyes could see how nervous she was, the sweat beading on her upper lip. Turning to survey me coldly, her eyes narrowed at the sight of my full uniform.

  “We're not marching in a triumph, Pullus,” she snapped. “I don’t think the enemy will be able to see your decorations from the deck of their ships.”

  “It's not for the enemy, Your Highness. It's for my men. They like seeing all that their Primus Pilus has done in the service of Rome.”

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to shoot back a sharp reply, but Antonius was in no mood for our bickering.

  “Pullus, is the 10th ready to load?”

  “Yes, sir. They're fully packed.”

  I spoke carefully, but neither he nor the queen seemed to notice that I had actually dodged the question.

  “Very well,” he grunted. “You'll load on the following ships.”

  He reached out to offer a wax tablet, which I took. Written on it were the names of fifteen ships, most of them quinqueremes.

  “You'll be in my squadron, in the center of the line, so expect some heavy action. I hope your men are ready.”

  “They're ready for whatever comes their way, General.”

  I do not know whether it was the words or my tone, but he looked up sharply from what he was doing, signing something held by a scribe, to give me a searching stare that I was sure looked into my heart and saw all that was there. For the space of several heartb
eats, our eyes were locked together, before he gave a minute shrug, as if it was not worth pursuing. Heaving a silent sigh of relief when he nodded to me, indicating that I was dismissed, I turned to head for the door of the Praetorium.

  As I was leaving I passed Balbinus, who gave me a nod as he passed, although he seemed distracted. I was tempted to pull him aside to see if he had anything planned, but decided I could not take the risk. Instead, I made my way back to the Legion to find that the men were in the last stages of making themselves ready. Calling for Valerius, I had him give the signal for all Centurions to gather at my tent, then waited. Diocles was responsible for supervising the loading of the mules that would take our baggage to the ships to be loaded, so I handed him the wax tablet, which contained the location in the bay of the ships along with their respective names. As I did, I arranged to meet with Diocles and the rest of the slaves, with all the baggage, on the eastern side of the upthrusting promontory about a half-mile from the first of our ships. Wanting to continue the fiction as long as possible, I knew that the absence of the baggage would alert Antonius, so it was imperative that we be seen together. The Centurions began arriving at my tent, their faces taut with the tension of the moment. Watching the men carefully, I looked for any signs of deceit; furtive glances, whispered conversations, anything that might indicate that treachery was in the works. It relieved me to see that while the men were sober, and some even grim, they all appeared to be committed to our course of action. Once they were together, I announced loudly enough for any of the men nearby to hear that we had been told which ships we would be boarding.

  Then, in a softer tone, I asked the Centurions, “Are you ready?”

  They either nodded or murmured that they were prepared for what was to come. Satisfied, I explained what was going to happen and what I expected. With that done, I resumed my normal tone, telling the Centurions to assemble the men.

  Marching out of the camp, we did so along with the three other Legions assigned to ship out with us. Those Legions staying behind lined the streets but not much was said, since most of those men were from the East and we did not have anything in common with them other than the uniform we wore. Our men were silent; their eyes straight ahead, shoulders back, the tramping of their feet made it sound as if a giant walked the Earth. As is always the case, the men marched better because the eyes of the new Legions were on them. Seeing Canidius standing by the Praetorium with his Legates about him, he could only watch as the best of the army marched away. Not knowing what was going to happen after the next third of a watch, it made me wonder if I would see Canidius again or serve under him, although I doubted it. As we exited the camp, the sun had crested the horizon, shining over the bay, illuminating the ships waiting for us. Smoke hung in the air from fires that still smoldered, but there were no longer raging flames burning. In the growing light, I saw another Legion marching in front of us, recognizing it as the 12th. Directing the Legion, we cut across the inlet, the hills where we had initially cut our wood now standing denuded to our right. As we marched, I noticed that now that the trees were down, we had an unobstructed view of the sea, the stumps dotting the slopes serving as an obstacle to anyone choosing to attack us. Spotting Diocles waving to me, walking in front of the mules, I gave the commands to angle the Legion over to where he was. Stopping next to the baggage train, I gave an order that was met with quizzical glances by the men, although the Centurions seemed to understand my intent immediately. We were still about a half-mile away from where our ships were pulled up to the shore, their gangplanks lowered from their sides down to the beach. Breaking formation, the men went to find the mules on which their gear was loaded, taking it off the beast’s back. That was not unusual, even if it was still a good distance away from the ships. What puzzled the men was my order to dump their baggage on the ground next to the mules to perform an inventory at that moment. They began going through their gear, mumbling to each other about the oddity of their Primus Pilus. Standing there, seemingly watching them, my eye was really on the knot of people that I recognized as those surrounding Antonius and Cleopatra, who were directing the loading of their respective squadrons. Knowing that it would take several moments before someone noticed that the 10th was not moving, I was also wagering that what we were doing would cause puzzlement, enough that it would draw Antonius himself.

  It was one of Antonius’ Legates who first noticed what we were doing, and I saw his black-plumed helmet turn to examine us. After a moment, he walked slowly over to Antonius, got his attention, then pointed in our direction. Antonius turned, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, which was now halfway over the line of hills to the east of the bay. He stood still for several moments as I watched closely, knowing that Antonius was obviously trying to determine what we were doing. Finally, he turned to call the slave who held his horse, which was about to be loaded onto his flagship, and the beast was led to him. Without waiting for a saddle, Antonius leapt aboard the horse, using the lead rope as a makeshift rein to head in our direction. Turning about I snapped an order to the Centurions, who had remained standing in their spots, whereupon they immediately began bellowing orders to assemble, telling the men to leave their baggage at once and return to their spots in formation. Despite their obvious confusion, the habit of obedience had been drilled into them and they were veterans, so they moved quickly. At the sight of the men returning to their formation, Antonius pulled up short, seemingly undecided whether to keep heading to us or to turn back and go get help. At least, that is what I assumed, and the delay gave me the chance to give the next order, which the Centurions immediately relayed to the men. If they had been confused before, they were positively befuddled now, yet they still obeyed, dropping their packs at their feet before taking their shields out of their leather cases. Seeing the men hefting their shields, with their two javelins in their free hand, Antonius furiously kicked his horse in the ribs with his heels, making the animal leap forward. If Antonius had not been a superb horseman he would have been thrown, but he managed to stay aboard, the horse galloping the remaining distance as I turned to face the oncoming Triumvir. His face was a mixture of rage and confusion as he approached, and for a moment, I thought he intended to run me down, so that I tensed my legs, ready to leap out of the way. At the last moment, he yanked hard on the halter, the horse skidding to a stop while showering me with clods of dirt.

  Looking down at me, he pointed a finger as if it were a javelin, jabbing at my face and snarling, “Pullus, by Pluto’s cock, you better have a good reason for whatever this is.”

  “I think I have a very good reason, General,” I said loudly enough for the men immediately behind me to hear, knowing that it would be relayed back down the column quickly. I gestured back towards the men of the 10th. “These men are the reason that I'm refusing to board your ships. We're not going to Egypt. We're not fighting for you any longer. We're through.”

  For a moment, I thought he would fall from his horse as he reeled backward, his face white with shock. I heard the excited whispers of the men behind me when they finally realized what was happening, that they were involved in a mutiny. This was the moment of truth, when I would know how strong a hold I had on this Legion, but I did not turn to look to see how the men were reacting, relying on the Centurions and Optios to alert me in the event there was trouble.

  “You faithless, gutless, cocksucking son of a whore!” Antonius’ face was contorted with rage. “I'll have you flayed alive for this, Pullus! I swear it by all the gods I will!”

  He twisted around to see that one of his Brundisium Cohorts, probably alerted by the Legate, was now marching in our direction. Cleopatra had stopped what she was doing as well and was now looking in our direction; hand over eyes, along with most of the other people gathered on shore. Only one Legion, I could not tell which one from this distance, was actually loading onto the ships. Another Legion had stopped and they were facing in our direction. I suspected it was the 12th and Balbinus, and that he was watc
hing to see what would happen before he made his decision. So be it, I thought grimly, it will be up to us. Risking a look back over my shoulder, I saw that at least the men of the First and Second Cohorts, having heard and understanding what was happening, looked grimly determined to follow my lead.

  Catching Balbus’ eye, I nodded to him before turning back to face Antonius, whose hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. My heart began hammering on the realization that he seemed to be seriously considering drawing his weapon and charging. Behind me, Balbus ordered the cornicen to sound the call to move from column to double line, the notes ringing out through the air. Immediately the Centurions and Optios took up the call, yelling at the men to move quickly and I was gratified to hear the crashing of sound that signaled men running, with no hesitation whatsoever.

  Over the noise, I called to Antonius while pointing to his sword, “General, I have no wish to fight you, but if you pull that out, I'll kill you, and we both know it. I may be all the things you say I am, but I'm also Titus Pullus of the 10th Legion, and you know that I'm one of the best men in the army with a sword. And even if you did strike me down, you can see the men are determined to stay here. I have no doubt that they'd kill you to do so.”

  My words had frozen his hand and he stared down at me from his horse, his face still a mask of impotent anger. The white had been replaced by the rush of blood and I had seen that look before, when he seemed to lose his head, giving in to the overwhelming fury that he was feeling, even his eyes seeming to glow red. However, he made no move, instead looking back over his shoulder to see the Brundisium Cohort suddenly come to a crashing halt at the sight of a full Legion deploying in line, ready for battle. All pretense of work had stopped, the men of the Legion that was in the process of loading now openly watching the drama unfold. The standing Legion still had not moved, but I saw that they had also unslung their shields, making me worry that they might actually want to engage with us. The 10th finished moving into line, whereupon the Cohorts in the second line faced about so they were looking roughly in the direction from where we had marched. This was pre-arranged, to avoid the possibility of a Legion marching out from camp to fall on our rear. The Brundisium Cohort was now faced with the prospect of tackling a full Legion, something that they clearly had no intention of doing, since they had stopped and were not moving.