Marching With Caesar-Revolt of the Legions

by R. W. Peake

  Laughing in delight, I had to tell my horse, “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t bring an apple. But,” I promised him, and my change in tone must have alerted him, because his head jerked up, his ears once more pricking forward in eagerness, “we’re going for a ride today.”

  “You,” the immune grumbled, “spoil that horse too much, Centurion.”

  Even as he said this, Latobius had turned, and without being told, obediently trotted over to the spot where all the bits of tack and saddles were stored, waiting to be saddled, although he was impatiently pawing at the ground, and I pointed to him doing that, saying, “He may be spoiled, but look how easy he’s making it for you.”

  Laughingly agreeing, the immune turned and walked to where Latobius was waiting, while I walked to the handful of other mounts that would serve as the next spare horse. As I did so, I felt someone’s eyes on me, and I turned to see Asprenas regarding me with what appeared to be curiosity.

  Seeing me turn, he said, “You must ride that horse quite a bit, Centurion. And,” he turned to examine Latobius, and whatever his other faults, I could see he knew horseflesh, “it’s a magnificent animal. I’m surprised that it hasn’t been claimed by one of the officers.”

  Realizing what he meant, I felt that stab of anger, but I kept it in check as I simply said, “He has been, Tribune.”

  “Oh?” Asprenas looked startled, turning back to me. “And yet he allows you to ride him whenever you please?” Sniffing, he said, “You and this officer must be very good friends.”

  There was something in his tone that caused me to actually look up at him from where I was putting the bridle on the spare horse I had selected, and I saw he was wearing a smirk, or more accurately a lascivious leer, and that initial flare of anger blossomed into a full flame, yet somehow I managed to keep it within myself, mostly anyway. By this time, Latobius was saddled, the spare mount had been bridled, and tossing a coin to the immune, I leapt into the saddle, and in the same movement, put him into motion.

  It was only as I rode past that I deigned to answer Asprenas, simply because I needed those extra heartbeats to get myself under control, saying, “I suppose you could say that we’re good friends.” Only when I had gone past did I explain, “Because I’m the officer who owns this horse.”

  “You?” Asprenas’ voice expressed what sounded like a combination of surprise and indignation, but heavier on the latter. “You?” he repeated, but while I did not look back, I could hear he was following behind. “Why would a…” That was when I did turn around, fixing the Tribune with a cold stare, his face coloring as he apparently decided to use a different word than the one he originally intended, “…Centurion need a horse, especially one of this quality?”

  “Tribune,” I could only shake my head; it was not like I had not heard things like this before, “what you don’t know about us…Centurions,” I deliberately matched Asprenas’ tone when he had used the word, “could fill the Tabularium.”

  Hearing his gasp of shock at my words took much of the anger away and brought a smile to my lips.

  The only other delay in Ubiorum was when we went from the stables to the Quaestorium, where I signed for a supply of three days’ worth of rations for two men, getting even more satisfaction from the look of dismay when I handed Asprenas his sack containing three round loaves of Panera Castris, a hunk of boiled pork, and a smaller sack of lentils and chickpeas, although I did not bother mentioning we would have no time to stop and cook them. Let him figure that out on his own, I thought with grim amusement; he just thinks he’s unhappy right now. We made just one other stop, but this time, I did not let Asprenas know where we were headed, since I understood that he would feel compelled to try and assert his authority. While I suspected that it would be inevitable at some point, unless we were fantastically fortunate to run into Germanicus in the next day or so, I thought it better to delay that moment, so I moved Latobius at the trot, then only when we drew abreast of my quarters did I bring him to a stop.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” I said shortly, already off and striding to the door.

  Balio had been left behind, and thankfully for both of us, he was where he was supposed to be, seated at his desk, and not obviously fucking off, although he leapt to his feet with an expression of surprise and a fair amount of guilt.

  “Princeps Prior!” he exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you!” Suddenly anxious, he followed me as I strode past him, heading for my private quarters. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Grab me two clean tunics,” I told him, although this was not my main reason for being here, “and go outside and roll them up in my sagum. It’s on Latobius.”

  Naturally, he complied, and I waited just long enough to make sure he left the building, listening for the door slamming, before I turned to my real purpose. Under my desk, there was a floorboard that, to outward appearances, looked like every other one, but under which I had hollowed out a space in the foundation. Pressing on one end of the floorboard, the opposite end tilted up, just enough for me to grab and lift out, followed by the other three. Reaching down, I found what I was looking for only after some rummaging around, moving aside the wooden box in which the copies of my Avus’ scrolls were kept for safekeeping and, most importantly, away from prying eyes. I could not even begin to imagine how a man like Tribune Asprenas would react to the information contained therein, particularly the knowledge that I might be even wealthier than he was. So much had happened so quickly after the Princeps’ death that I had not even had time to ponder what this might mean for the Pullus family, and I was reminded at this moment as my fingers brushed the box. It was something to think about, and to investigate, whether or not Tiberius, in his role as Imperator, would lift the edict that barred my family’s name from being entered into the equestrian order, but this was not the time. Retrieving a leather bag, I opened it and quickly examined the contents, feeling the weight of the coins, and judging whether it would be enough. Next to the box of scrolls was another box, this one banded with iron, with a lock, and there was even more money there, but I decided this would have to do, simply because I did not want to make Asprenas suspicious and have him come barging in. Quickly replacing the floorboards, I pulled the carpet back in place, then left my quarters, just as the outer door was opening.

  Seeing Asprenas standing there, before he could step inside, I reached him, saying, “I apologize for the delay, Tribune. I’m ready now.”

  I could tell he wanted to complain, but this stop had lasted perhaps a span of two hundred heartbeats, if that, so he contented himself with giving me what I am sure he thought was a severe look. Balio had finished as well, my sagum back in place, though I double checked to make sure it was tied securely; satisfied, I remounted Latobius and began moving again, so rapidly that it forced Asprenas to scramble a bit to get back on his own horse, making him look a bit like a boy following his father and trying to keep up, which was precisely what I intended. We were going to be heading south, but I led us to the Porta Decumana, which was located on the western side of the camp, because I did not want to contend with the people in the town who, seeing two officers of the Legion, would immediately assail us and demand to know about what was going on across the river. Granted, this was now the second full day of the revolt, yet now that we had learned there was a level of coordination, I believed that operating on the assumption that the civilians knew about it was the best course, so I led Asprenas around the outskirts of Ubiorum. If this had been even five years earlier, we could have completely avoided any dwellings, but the town had been steadily growing, except for the period of time immediately after the Varus disaster. Now that enough time had passed and people no longer feared that a horde of Germans would come swarming across the river at any given moment, the growth had resumed. Once clear of the town, we turned south, our first destination, Colonia Augusta Trevorum, the road to which we took ten miles south of Ubiorum. I think it suited us both that neither wanted to engage in convers
ation with the other, and fairly quickly, I was reminded of the simple pleasures of riding a horse, especially where both animal and man knew each other so well. Although we made good time, it was still almost ninety miles to Trevorum, as we called it, although now we were back on this side of the Rhenus, we were on good, Roman roads. Stopping at midday, and realizing that we had essentially ridden an entire day, since it was around noon when we left the camp, when I unsaddled Latobius, rubbed him down, and strapped his bag of feed over his nose, did the same for the spare mount, then without saying anything, went under a tree and rolled out my sagum, I did so confident that Asprenas would not object.

  “What are you doing?”

  Stifling my impulse to offer some retort, I tried patience. “We’ve ridden for a full day, Tribune. I think we should probably rest for at least two parts of a watch.”

  “I didn’t agree to that,” he said stubbornly, and I lifted myself onto one elbow to regard him, dismounted and holding his horse’s reins.

  Sighing loudly enough I knew that he would hear, I asked, “So are you saying that we keep going, Tribune?” Struck by a small inspiration, I made a show climbing to my feet as I said, “If you insist…”

  “No!” He held up a hand, looking startled. “I’m not saying that at all! I agree that it would be wise to stop, especially since,” he glanced up at the sun, “it’s the hottest part of the day. I just…” He stopped then, and I thought with a fair amount of amusement that he was at a loss about how to get out what he wanted to say without sounding petulant, then he settled on, “…should have been consulted, that’s all that I’m saying.”

  Frankly, I realized immediately that this was not an unusual demand, especially from a Tribune who technically outranked me, and it was with some chagrin I admitted to myself that I had been so intent on showing Asprenas that I was the one truly in command that I had created this situation.

  “You’re absolutely right, Tribune,” I found myself saying, “and for that I apologize. Now,” I lay back down on my sagum, “I would respectfully suggest that you find a good spot to get some rest.”

  I did not look directly at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he had expected an argument, so he stood there for a moment, seemingly at a loss before, finally, he tended to his horse in the same manner I had with Latobius. My last memory of this period was hearing both horses in my care munching contentedly on their meal, and it was in this manner that we traveled for the next two days, never stopping for even a full watch, which was incredibly wearing, even on a much younger man like Asprenas. And, despite my resolution to avoid any kind of meaningful interaction with the Tribune, riding mile after mile wears even the strongest will down. The problem was, what to talk about? One by one, I mentally discarded each topic. Politics was, naturally, completely out of the question. Anything about either myself or the Tribune I dismissed almost as quickly, believing that it would inevitably lead us to something like politics. Talking about the mutiny was just as fraught with dangers, and I was despairing of thinking of anything. Finally, more out of desperation than anything, I broached the subject of chariot racing. For a span of time, I smugly congratulated myself for my choice, since Asprenas turned out to be an ardent supporter of the Greens, and he enthusiastically described the strengths and weaknesses of each driver, their teams, to the point that, before we had gone ten miles, I was very unhappy with myself. Still, I tried to keep in mind that it was better than the alternative. When we reached Trevorum, as hopeful as I was, if only to stop learning more about the Greens and chariot racing than I ever wanted to know, I was not all that surprised that Germanicus was not there, but we did learn that he was making his way down to Lugdunum. This, as far as it went, was good news; that Lugdunum was more than five hundred miles from where the mutiny was taking place was not. In one way, Asprenas and I were of a like mind, in that neither of us were willing to part with our personal mounts in Lugdunum, but as a precaution, and keeping in mind my lesson when we stopped that first day, I suggested to Asprenas that we actually obtain two spare horses apiece.

  “I’d rather you figure out a way to find a spare rider,” the Tribune answered wearily, and just the manner in which he said it made me burst out laughing.

  His initial reaction was to glower at me, but then I suppose the impact of his own words caught up with him, and he laughed as well, the two of us sharing a moment of camaraderie, both just weary travelers still with many miles to go.

  “Would that I could, Tribune,” I replied. “Would that I could.”

  I was sorely tempted to linger a bit longer in Trevorum, looking longingly at the row of inns that lined both sides of the road on the outskirts of the town, and a glance at Asprenas confirmed he was of a like mind.

  “We need to keep going,” I said, and he opened his mouth to say something, though before he could, I pressed on, “because I don’t know about you, Tribune, but I don’t want the deaths of every officer trapped in the praetorium haunting my dreams if the mutineers run out of patience.”

  Snapping his mouth shut, Asprenas only gave a curt nod, then, with our mounts switched out, and with two extra horses apiece now, we did exactly that.

  If it were not for a chance meeting with a rider carrying dispatches, we would have continued on to Lugdunum, when Germanicus was actually not there, but north and slightly west in Augustodunum, which had been created by the Princeps as the regional capital of the Aedui, the primary inhabitants of the area. All I really knew of the Aedui was that they were one of the many tribes who were subjugated by Divus Julius, and more importantly to me, my Avus. That, however, had been more than fifty years before, and they had since settled down under Roman rule, enjoying all the benefits that come with it. And, as often happens at momentous times, if we had been only a sixth part of a watch sooner, or later for that matter, we would not have hailed the rider heading north towards us, just as he was turning west, where a secondary road led to Augustodunum, though we did not know that yet. Holding up a hand, I hailed the rider as he approached, thinking that if he was coming from Lugdunum, which was likely since that was the only large population center in the direction we were heading, he would be able to tell us at least how close to Germanicus we were. He ignored me, which I should have understood would happen, but thankfully, young Asprenas had that invisible aura that every person of the lower classes of Rome learns to identify from an early age, along with the fact that we had agreed to resume riding in full uniform, as tiring as that was, for moments such as this, so that when he shouted at the rider to stop, he actually did so. Not, I will confess, that I was particularly happy about it, especially when Asprenas went trotting past me, looking insufferably pleased with himself, and I followed behind, murmuring my thoughts to Latobius, while Asprenas addressed the courier.

  “I am Senior Tribune Marcus Nonius Asprenas of the Army of the Rhenus. We’re looking for the Propraetor, Germanicus Caesar,” Asprenas intoned, and since I was behind him, I indulged myself in an eyeroll as he spoke. “We’re on official business on behalf of Legate Aulus Caecina Severus, and it’s extremely important that we reach the Propraetor as quickly as possible. Do you know where he is?”

  The courier, who appeared to be perhaps in his mid-twenties, looked at the Tribune first, then to me, clearly surprised.

  Pointing down the road in the direction he was about to head, he said, “He’s in Augustodunum, Tribune. I’m bringing dispatches for him.”

  “From who?” Asprenas asked, but I could have saved the Tribune the trouble.

  “I can’t tell you that, sir,” the courier answered, and for a moment, I thought Asprenas would press the issue, then he gave a shrug to show how much it did not matter.

  “How far is Augustodunum?” I asked him.

  “From here?” He pondered for a moment, then answered, “Thirty miles.”

  “Pluto’s cock,” I muttered, and Asprenas did not look very happy either. Looking up at the sun, which was on its downward arc, I guessed
, “If we push the horses, we might make it before dark.”

  The courier coughed, in a manner that told me it was not random, and when I looked over, he shook his head, saying, “Centurion, if it was flat ground, that would be true, but in about ten miles, the road starts going up. Not much,” he allowed, “but if you’ve already been pushing your mounts, and,” he indicated our spare mounts, which we had just switched out, “it looks like you have, that might be asking too much. Although,” the courier turned his head to examine Asprenas’ horse, which he had switched to not long before this meeting, then he looked at Latobius, who I was leading at that point, “if those two horses are as strong as they look, you might just do it.”

  “When do you plan on arriving?” Asprenas asked, and at this, the courier gave the Tribune a grin.

  “Sooner than you, sir,” he answered cheerfully, “but that’s because,” he reached down and patted the neck of his horse, “I’m on Lightning here.”

  Asprenas turned to look at me with a lifted eyebrow, and for a moment, we were just two men who appreciated horses…and competition.

  “Centurion, I suggest you switch to your mount,” Asprenas said, but I was already swinging out of the saddle, preparing to switch it to Latobius.

  “I’m sorry, Tribune,” the rider told Asprenas. “I can’t wait. By regulations, I shouldn’t have stopped.”

  Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, the courier wheeled his horse, and before he got too far away, I called out, “Don’t worry! We’ll catch up.”