by R. W. Peake
He looked over his shoulder, grinned, and put his horse to the canter.
“Centurion,” Asprenas said, his face serious, “it would have probably been a better idea not to warn him about that.”
Glancing up, I recognized what I had learned was his amused expression, which consisted of a slightly different tilt of his head so that his nose was just a shade lower, and I had to laugh.
“Good point, Tribune.”
Despite our best effort, the courier, more familiar with the road, along with the advantage of having a fresher mount that was selected by the courier service specifically for its speed and endurance, made it to the walls of Augustodunum very shortly before we did. The only reason we lost sight of him was because it finally got too dark to see, but we had closed to within about three or four furlongs, if that. Latobius was tired, but not to the point I worried about him, while Asprenas’ horse was in slightly worse shape. Despite not quite catching him, the courier had done us one slight favor, and that was to inform the guard detachment at the town gate not only that we were just behind him, but who we were, so our delay on arrival was minimal. Since this was a settlement that had been created during the long reign of the Princeps, finding the Praetorium, where we knew Germanicus would be, was not difficult; navigating through the people thronged in the streets was another matter. This was slightly unusual since it was after dark, but I honestly did not think much about it since I had never been to Augustodunum, or around the Aedui, and I assumed these were people who liked to congregate even after the sun went down. And, as we quickly learned, many of them did speak Latin, if a heavily accented version of it, but any of us who had been on the frontier were adept at making out what was being said. It was what they were saying that caused both Asprenas and me to draw rein, exchanging a look where, I was certain we bore identical expressions.
“They already know?” He did keep his voice low. “They’ve already heard about the mutiny?”
I stifled my first response that my ears worked in the same way his did, saying instead, “It sounds that way.”
This quickened our pace, but the traffic was heavier the closer we got to the center of the town, and when we made it to the forum, while it was not packed, there was a sizable crowd, all of them facing the Praetorium. I quickly lost count of the number of times I heard someone mutter the word “mutiny,” yet I assumed that the citizens were all talking about the mutiny of the Rhenus Legions, and as I thought about it, I realized that it was actually reasonable that they would know already.
“They’re talking about what’s happened in Mogontiacum,” I said softly to Asprenas as we crossed the forum at a walk, both because of the people and the fact that, frankly, our horses were too tired.
“That makes sense, I suppose,” Asprenas allowed. “It’s closer than to our camp.”
We had reached the steps, where we dismounted, and in something of a surprise, when I told Asprenas to go ahead while I tended to the horses, which consisted of using my rank to order one of the sentries standing on the porch watching us approach to stand guard over them, the Tribune actually balked.
“I’ll wait,” he said, but when I glanced over at him, he refused to meet my gaze.
He doesn’t want to give Germanicus the news alone, I thought, which was understandable, and once again the delay was minimal. Pointing to one of the four men who were standing there, looking down uncertainly, I snapped the order for him to descend the stairs, having learned long before how important tone is when issuing orders to a strange ranker. Turning to the men next to him, there was a muttered conference, but just before I was about to raise my voice, the man I had selected came down the steps, slowly enough to send the signal of his reluctance.
“Juno’s cunnus,” I muttered to Asprenas. “It looks like disobedience is contagious.”
Asprenas gave a curt nod, then began ascending the stairs as I handed the reins to the surly ranker, who I vaguely recognized as being one of the men who were more or less permanently assigned to serve Germanicus, not as a personal bodyguard, but as an adjunct force to provide security like this.
“Is the Propraetor present?” I heard Asprenas ask of the three remaining sentries.
“He is,” one of them spoke up, “but may I inquire into the nature of your business, Tribune?”
“You may not!” Now, I thought, that sounds like the Tribune I started out with, but I had to intervene, since this was precisely what the sentry should be doing.
“Excuse me, Tribune,” I interrupted him, gently, “I seem to have misplaced my copy of our orders. You have yours, I’m sure.”
Now there had only been one scroll containing the orders from Caecina to go find Germanicus, but to his credit, Asprenas immediately recognized my purpose.
“Ah, yes.” He did sound somewhat embarrassed, pulling both scrolls from his pouch, and using the firelight, opened one of them to scan it. Then, handing the other to the sentry, he said crisply, “Here are our orders, signed by the Legate Aulus Caecina Severus of the Army of the Rhenus, directing the Princeps Prior and me to come to Germanicus in all haste.” He emphasized the last word, and I did not think it would hurt for me to add, “The Tribune is correct, of course, and I don’t think you want either of us telling the Propraetor that, after almost killing our horses, we were held up by you…what did you say your name was? And your rank?”
As I expected, this had the desired effect, the man handing the scroll back to Asprenas without even glancing at it, stepping aside even as he assured us, “That won’t be necessary, at all, sirs. You may enter.” Following Asprenas, I smiled when the sentry added helpfully, “I believe that he’s still up and in the Praetor’s office.”
I only nodded, mainly because my mouth had suddenly gone dry, and as we strode from the vestibule into the outer office, my mind was racing as I tried to prepare myself for telling Germanicus that at least two-thirds of the Army of the Rhenus was in revolt, since at that moment, I was certain that, while he knew about Mogontiacum, he was ignorant of the situation with the 1st and 20th. That just shows the dangers of assuming anything, because I was as wrong as I could be.
As the sentry had indicated, Germanicus was not only up and working in the office that normally belonged to the man officially in charge of a Roman-controlled town, he was actually pacing back and forth, listening to two of his aides engaged in a vociferous argument. That we were able to actually approach the door without any aide or even a clerk intercepting us I took to be another sign that Germanicus was at least partially aware of what was taking place in Germania. Even through the door, I recognized the muffled command to enter as being issued by Germanicus when Asprenas knocked, and as was proper, I stood aside as Asprenas entered first. The gentle nudge I had to give him when he suddenly froze in the doorway got him moving again, but his nerves were such that he did not even turn to reprimand me for being so impertinent.
Looking at Asprenas, Germanicus’ eyes narrowed, although he sounded calm as he said, “Salve, Tribune Asprenas. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Then, when he saw me, his mouth dropped open for an instant, and even by the lamplight, I saw him go pale. “Pullus? What…” He looked back to Asprenas and clearly saw something in the Tribune’s face, although I had not yet drawn abreast of him. Germanicus’ aides had stopped their bickering, their expressions mirroring each other; concern and curiosity in equal measure. However, Germanicus turned and said, “Leave us. I’ll summon you when I need you.”
The two men, who might have been cut from the same cloth as the Tribune I was with, clearly did not like being dismissed in such a summary manner, although they both obeyed without a word of protest, and I felt a small smile forming as I thought about how, when Germanicus had been sent to do an impossible task by his adoptive father Tiberius, so many of the young nobles under his command gave him an argument about every order. Much had changed since then, but my reminiscing about days gone by was cut off by the unsubtle slamming of the door.
&nb
sp; “Neither of you would be here if it was good news.” Germanicus had moved to sit on the edge of his desk, facing us. “So, what is it?” His expression shifted slightly, and he asked, “Is it the Legate? Has he fallen ill?” Standing up, he went on, “Is he dead?”
“No, sir,” Asprenas answered quickly, but instead of acknowledging the Tribune, Germanicus looked at me for confirmation, and I shook my head, even as I saw the flash of irritation on Asprenas’ face out of the corner of my eye.
Since Germanicus was looking directly at me, I spoke up, “At least, he wasn’t when we left, sir. But that might change.” I was actually about to continue, then thought better of it, turning instead to Asprenas, saying, “You should tell him, Tribune.”
Now, I honestly thought I was doing the right thing, but Asprenas looked anything but pleased, shooting me a look that expressed his feelings quite eloquently, though he did not hesitate, informing Germanicus in what, I had to admit, was a very thorough report of the situation. By the time Asprenas was finished, Germanicus had fallen back to land heavily on the desk, his mouth agape in shock.
“Of course,” I added, “judging from what we heard out in the streets, you’ve already heard about Mogontiacum.”
This elicited a completely unexpected response from Germanicus, a loud gasp, which served as our first hint that, in fact, matters were much, much worse.
“Mogontiacum too? Silius’ Legions have revolted as well?”
Asprenas and I exchanged an alarmed glance, and I gave a slight nod to him that he should be the one to speak.
“You mean,” Asprenas asked, “you didn’t know about Mogontiacum? Then, what were the people in the streets talking about?”
Germanicus did not respond immediately; he had put his face in his hands, his head bowed into them as he slumped forward, trying to absorb this, leaving the two of us to wonder for the span of heartbeats before he spoke, very, very long, slow heartbeats. Finally, he lifted his head, and I suddenly realized that his eyes were red-rimmed, making me wonder if they had looked like that when we entered and I had not noticed, or this latest bit of news we brought had been the cause.
Not that it mattered, and Germanicus said dully, “No, Tribune Asprenas, I did not know about Mogontiacum. What the people of the town are excited and worried about, and understandably so, is that the Army of Pannonia,” Germanicus paused long enough to look over at me and gave me a smile that held no humor, “has risen in revolt as well.”
Now it was our turn to be staggered, but this was doubly true for me, which Germanicus knew and was why he had looked at me when he imparted the news. Indeed, I actually spotted a chair and headed for it, though I was in sufficient possession of my senses to look inquiringly at Germanicus, and he nodded, whereupon I fell into it so heavily that it cracked. I spent the next breath waiting for it to collapse, thinking that this would be oddly appropriate, but thankfully, it held my weight. Meanwhile, Asprenas had removed his helmet and, like me, found a chair, while Germanicus silently watched us. Finally, he spoke.
“We clearly have quite a bit to talk about,” he said, in what I still rank as one of the greatest understatements I ever heard in my life. Thankfully, of the three of us, Germanicus possessed enough of his wits to ask, “Have they made any demands?”
With some chagrin, Asprenas rose, withdrew the scroll, and handed it to the Propraetor, then settled back on his chair. None of us said anything, waiting for Germanicus to peruse the list, though he did shake his head a couple of times, and once muttered what I assume was a curse.
When he had finished, he looked up and said ruefully, “I have to hand it to whoever was behind this, because…” He suddenly twisted to look for something on his desk, then grabbed up another scroll before he turned back to address us. Holding up the one Asprenas had given him, he waved the other one as he remarked, “These could have been written by the same man. They’re almost identical.” Turning to me, just as Sacrovir had predicted, Germanicus asked me, “Pullus? What do you think? You know the rankers’ thinking better than either of us do. What’s behind this?”
I had been preparing myself for this moment for the entire journey, and I did not hesitate, feeling the pressure of the advancing watches and growing worry for my fellow Centurions with every heartbeat. “I think that on that list, there are two things that are non-negotiable, and if the men don’t get them,” I did not feel particularly happy saying it, but I was determined to get it out, “there will be a lot of bloodshed. And,” I felt compelled to add, “I don’t think that it would be long before Arminius would hear about it and recognize this was the opportunity he’s been waiting for.” Germanicus nodded, though I had no way of knowing if he was accepting everything I was saying was true or whether he agreed with it, but I continued, “I think there are a couple more items that might seem unacceptable, but I’d argue that they would actually help strengthen the Legions more than harming them.”
Only then did he speak, asking, “And those are?”
I felt confident, just by the manner in which he asked this, that he at least suspected what they were, but I was committed now, and I answered immediately, “Getting rid of the men of the emergency dilectus. Send them back to Rome where they belong. From everything I’ve heard, they weren’t told that they would not only be expected to complete sixteen years, but that it was raised to twenty not long after they…volunteered.” I will not deny that Pusio’s face was prominent in my thoughts as I said this, but there were a lot of Pusios throughout the Army of the Rhenus. “And,” I added, “I agree with one of the demands that I think they will not bend on, and that’s raising their pay.”
Germanicus did not answer me immediately, choosing to stare off in space for a moment. Then, he heaved a deep sigh before his gaze returned to me, and I could see by his expression how doubtful it was that I would like what he was about to say.
I thought he was going to prove me wrong when he began, “On the matter of pay, that might be possible,” he allowed, but then he shook his head as he went on, “but I’m afraid my father will never agree to letting those men come back to Rome.”
This was the one thing I had my heart set on, which is what I blame for my interrupting him.
“But why?” I knew my tone was improper. “Sir, those men are like a tumor!”
Germanicus was not irritated by my outburst, but neither was he willing to indulge me, answering immediately, “You know why, Pullus. There was a reason the Princeps got rid of them in the first place. He made the calculation that they were less of a danger in the Legions than they were in Rome. And,” he took a breath, “I must say I agreed with the Princeps then.”
This did not make me happy, and I made no attempt to hide that, but as ever, Germanicus did not flinch from looking me in the eye. Also, by doing so, he sent a signal that this subject was closed, and I decided not to press further, at least right then.
Taking a breath, I stood up, sure that I knew what was coming, and when Germanicus looked towards me, I said, “With your permission, sir, I’m going to go make preparations. I need to get our horses taken care of, and we need to find an inn to get some sleep, but we’ll be ready to leave with you first thing in the morning.”
Asprenas opened his mouth, and judging from his expression, he seemed about to object, but he did not need to, because Germanicus shook his head.
“We can’t leave tomorrow, Pullus,” he said. “Not unless there’s a miracle of some sort, and I hear from my father.”
It took a moment for this to work its way through my tired, agitated mind, and as usual, once I comprehended what this meant, there was nothing in between my ears and mouth to stop me from blurting out, “Are you mad? We can’t wait that long!”
Even Asprenas looked alarmed at this decision, rising to his feet to address Germanicus. “Sir, I know that it’s not my place to do so, but I must agree with the Princeps Prior in this. When we left the camp, the Legate and most of the Centurions and Optios were trapped inside the praeto
rium, and we don’t know if the ringleaders of this mutiny are men of their word!” As he briefly glanced over at me, I understood why he did so when the Tribune, speaking in a low voice went on, “The mutineers were in the process of flogging a number of Centurions and Optios when we rode out of camp, sir. The gods only know what those…animals have done since we left.”
Germanicus turned his head to look at me inquiringly, and I nodded confirmation, though I was not particularly happy about Asprenas’ description of the rankers, but this was not the time to quibble.
“That,” Germanicus admitted, “is quite troubling.” He thought for a moment, then shook his head, saying, “But I can’t just go galloping off without hearing from Tiberius. Remember,” he reminded us, “there are two rebellions going on, in two different armies. In two different places. For all I know, Tiberius is going to deem the Army of Pannonia to be more important…”
“Than Germania?”
The only real surprise was that I had not been the one to speak, and I could see that Asprenas was just as surprised by his interjection as Germanicus, and certainly me.
His face flushed a deep red, but Asprenas argued, “Propraetor, while I know that there was all manner of unrest in Pannonia, and that you,” he surprised me when he turned and indicated me, “and Princeps Prior Pullus were a crucial part of quelling it, I would say that it wasn’t nearly as dangerous to Rome as what happened in Germania and Varus. And,” he finished, “Arminius is still in command of the tribes. What do you think he’s going to do when he learns of this? Because we both know he will.”
Despite my ambivalent view of Asprenas, I was deeply impressed, and I made a mental note to let him know that; whether he would appreciate my appreciation was another matter. More importantly, his words had an immediate impact on Germanicus, and he fell back on the edge of the desk, his face a study in conflict. Clearly, he accepted what Asprenas had said as being extremely likely; I would have gone farther and said it was as close to guaranteed as it is possible to be, yet he also had a better grasp on the political situation back in Rome. It should be remembered that, during these days immediately after the death of Augustus, there was an enormous number of questions about what that meant. While most of us in the Legions all assumed that the wishes of the Princeps would be respected, and Tiberius would be recognized as his successor, because of my unique perspective, both from my own observations and experience but also from reading my Avus’ account of the last time there was a vacancy at the top of Rome, I was probably one of the few men who had a glimmer that it was likely that what was assumed by most was not the case. Judging from the way Germanicus was behaving at this moment, I felt a small burst of satisfaction that it appeared as if my caution was warranted.