Marching With Caesar-Revolt of the Legions

by R. W. Peake

  Finally, Germanicus spoke, but all he said was, “Let me sleep on this tonight. Asprenas,” he acknowledged the Tribune, “I understand what you’re saying, and I think you’re absolutely correct in your assessment. However,” he hesitated for just a heartbeat, then went on, “there are other factors that I must keep in mind, which make this a difficult decision. So,” at this, he stood up from the desk, “let me think about this.”

  Seeing us out, Germanicus called to one of the men who had been arguing, and I heard him give the man instructions to see to our needs.

  The last thing he said to us was, “You’ll stay here. There are rooms for visiting dignitaries, and you’ll each have one.” Turning to me before I could bring it up, he grinned at me and asked, “Pullus, did you ride Latobius?” Both impressed and touched that Germanicus would remember my horse, I could only nod, and he turned to Asprenas. “Does he still spoil that horse?”

  The Tribune, who I had come to, if not exactly like, at least tolerate, answered Germanicus with a laugh, although he was looking at me, “Terribly, Propraetor.”

  “Well,” Germanicus was still smiling, “I will personally guarantee that he’s cared for, Pullus. Does that ease your mind?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, only partially comprehending that I was being teased, something I do not normally like much, since I was still grappling with all that had taken place, and that Germanicus had remembered Latobius. “He’ll appreciate it. Although,” I did recover slightly, “not as much as I do.”

  As I hoped, this made Germanicus laugh, and he turned away, leaving us in the care of one of his aides. Honestly, I was tempted to go check on Latobius, but I realized that, if Germanicus heard that I had, he might take it as an insult, or more likely use it to tease me more, so I contented myself with caring for my own needs, which consisted of asking for and getting a large chunk of bread, a couple small cheeses, some boiled pork, and an amphora of water, which were brought up to my room. True to his word, we were led to the opposite wing, where we ascended a staircase and were shown two rooms, side by side. The aide, a nobleman who Asprenas said he did not know, clearly thought it beneath him, but I was too tired to take offense and so was the Tribune, and by rights, he should have been angrier.

  Standing there, each of us in front of our rooms, we paused for a moment, though I cannot say why, and Asprenas turned to me to ask, “Pullus, what do you think Germanicus will do?”

  I considered for a moment, and when I responded, I was not playing him falsely when I said, “Well, you did a good job of reminding him what’s likely to happen. Honestly,” I added, “I should have thought about it in those terms as well. Arminius isn’t going to hesitate once he finds out what’s going on.”

  Again, I was being honest, but I could see that this pleased him, which in turn, seemed to encourage him to compliment me. “I think the Propraetor needed to hear what you told him, Pullus.”

  After an awkward silence, we bade each other a good rest, exchanging a grin at the thought of more than two parts of a watch of sleep. The food I had requested arrived immediately afterward, but I did not finish before, for the first time in days, I doffed my armor, took off my caligae, and collapsed on the bed; I cannot say for sure, but I believe I was asleep before a count of ten.

  Awaking the next morning, while I could have slept more, I still felt better than I had when we arrived, and I made my way to the office, where not surprisingly, I found Germanicus already awake, though this time, he was seated. I was allowed in immediately, but when he looked up and saw me enter, he gave a weary shake of his head.

  “I haven’t decided yet, Pullus,” he told me.

  Naturally, my first urge was to argue, but I caught myself, understanding that, of all the people in Rome, Germanicus was the last man who needed to be reminded of all that was at stake. Instead, I simply requested his leave to see to Latobius, which he granted.

  “Don’t go far,” he warned. “Because once I do decide, we’re going to be moving fast.”

  Assuring him that I was only going to the stable, I chose to ignore the grin he gave me, waving a dismissal to me to proceed. After checking on Latobius, which essentially consisted of bringing him an apple and ensuring that he had been rubbed down the night before and had hay and water, I returned as quickly as I could to the Praetorium, not wanting to be the cause of any delay, so certain was I that Germanicus would not tarry in his decision. By the end of that day, my confidence was wavering, I was growing increasingly restless and bored. Unsurprisingly, Asprenas had sought out the company of his fellow nobles, but since there was no Legion with Germanicus, my choices for chatting as we waited were limited. I had not brought anything to read, naturally, so I was essentially consigned to sitting in the outer office, pacing about, or occasionally going to relieve myself and get some fresh air. If I had known that this would be the case for the next three days, I cannot say whether it would have made me appreciate this first day or not. It was not for a lack of trying on not just my part, but that of Asprenas, in urging Germanicus that every day of delay was one that we could not afford, and I will say that the Propraetor bore the harassment with a fair amount of grace. Until, finally, on the second full day after our arrival, he indulged in a rare fit of temper, something that I had never seen before, and even being the object of his ire, I have to say that I was a bit impressed in his use of language. I had come into the office for what, as he pointed out, was the fifth time that day, and he finally had had enough, banishing me from his presence in a quite colorful manner, warning me that he did not want to see my face the rest of the day. If this had been Tiberius, I would have been shaking in my caligae, certain there was at least a flogging in my future, although if it had been Tiberius, I would have never behaved in that manner. This is not to say that I was not slightly worried, but I suppose I was counting on our previous relationship and my knowledge of Germanicus as a man who did not bear grudges. And, seemingly in answer, not long after I resumed my spot in the chair that I had essentially appropriated as mine, one of Germanicus’ clerks came looking for me.

  “The Propraetor wants to see you,” he told me, so I naturally leaped up and followed him back into the office.

  Germanicus was still behind his desk, perusing a tablet with a deep frown, but he looked up at the sound of the door. Waving at me to enter, as he did so, he ordered the other occupants out of the room; as normally happened, the clerks, a combination of slaves and freedmen, hopped up and went scurrying out, while the noblemen made a more leisurely exit, all of them expressing their displeasure to varying degrees.

  Once we were alone, Germanicus pointed to the chair in front of his desk, which I took to be a good sign, and as I sat down, he said, “I apologize for that display earlier, Pullus. I understand your urgency, I truly do, but you have to understand how much pressure I’m under right now.” He paused as if considering something, then gave me a direct gaze and continued, “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room, Pullus. Do I have your word that you won’t divulge any of what I’m about to tell you?” He surprised me then by suddenly giving me a grin, which I understood when he finished, “Not even to that horse of yours.”

  “I swear on the black stone,” I answered solemnly, then returned his smile. “Not even to my horse.”

  Nodding, Germanicus pursed his lips as he tried to frame his thoughts, then began, “As I mentioned the first night when you and Asprenas got here, matters are complicated, not just with these two revolts, but particularly back in Rome. Pullus,” his tone turned cautious, “I know you recall when we served together, things between my father and I were…tense.”

  That, I thought, is putting it mildly, but aloud, I agreed, “Yes, sir. I do recall that.”

  Germanicus sighed, and the look he gave me was tinged with what I believe was a genuine sadness as he continued, “I wish I could say that matters between us have improved, but they haven’t. He was against the Princeps giving me Propraetor authority, and even more adaman
t that I not be given overall command of the entire Army of the Rhenus.”

  I do not know why this surprised me; nonetheless, it did. I suppose I had believed that, by this point, Germanicus had proven beyond any doubt that he was loyal and had no intention of attempting to usurp Tiberius.

  As if reading my thoughts, he went on, “With the death of the Princeps, things have only grown more tense.” Suddenly, his expression betrayed his anger. “I don’t know who’s behind it, but I’ve learned that there are…factions in Rome who are dripping poison in my father’s ear that I have pretentions to claim Imperator for myself.”

  Now this did not surprise me, and my mind immediately went back to Claudius, the former Tribune, and the role I had played in his downfall at the behest of Augustus. That was when I had learned that, despite appearances of tranquility and peace, the world of Roman politics is anything but; there are always small men who dream of greatness. And, frankly, I considered Germanicus to already be a great man, despite his relative youth, and I understood that there are always men who look at someone like Germanicus and think, “If I was in his position, this is what I would do,” never understanding that one reason for his greatness was in his recognition and acceptance of his current role. As far as Tiberius and his suspicions went; well, having served the man in the capacity I had, I am forced to admit that he had good cause to be suspicious of others, given how shamefully the Princeps treated him for so many years. He had endured a succession of humiliations, as Augustus continually pushed forward one potential heir to his title after another, all at the expense of Tiberius, his most loyal and able general.

  “So,” Germanicus explained, “that’s why I’m not doing anything until I hear from Tiberius. Now, I sent a courier to Rome less than a third of a watch after the message from Siscia came, and that was two days before you and Asprenas got here.”

  While I appreciated his speed of action, I did not see how this helped our situation on the Rhenus, and I said as much.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Germanicus agreed, “but my hope is that my father sends someone from Rome who has been given the authority to make decisions in his name, and that they run into the courier I sent shortly after you got here.”

  That, I thought, is one of the most forlorn hopes I have ever heard, but I decided not to say as much. However, as matters turned out, that is exactly what happened; that it would impact me so directly and dramatically I had no way of knowing, although I will say that when the agent from Tiberius arrived, I did have at least a modicum of warning that I would probably not like how matters turned out.

  It was not until the next day, which both Asprenas and I spent in the same fashion as the previous ones; I alternated between sitting in the outer office, short trips outside, and trying to keep myself from going mad. Only by happenstance was I actually sitting in my spot, shortly before sunset, when the outer door opened, and a lone man strode in, removing a light cloak spattered with mud, under which a courier bag was strapped across his body. My first reaction was only mild curiosity; for the first couple of days, I had leapt to my feet every time one such man arrived, certain that he would be bringing instructions from Rome. And, honestly, in my initial cursory glance, I did not recognize the man, although I should have, but he certainly recognized me.

  “Pullus? By the gods, what are you doing here?”

  I had already looked away, but it was the combination of hearing my name, and recognizing the voice that drew my attention back, causing me to leap to my feet. Staring at me in open-mouthed astonishment was Tiberius Dolabella, but it was a version of the man I barely recognized. Although it was true that I had not seen him for some time, it was clear that Dolabella had aged far more than one would expect. Part of it was that his face was gray with fatigue, although when I stood to face him, I saw even that color drain from his face, but it was how gray his hair had gotten, the deep seams that now lined his face, and most pronounced, the heavy, dark circles under his eyes, even as one of them looked past me as always.

  Motioning to him, I walked into a corner, where he followed me, his eyes searching my face, and I whispered to him, “You’ll find out in a moment, but first let me ask you a question. Are you coming from Rome?” He gave a perfunctory nod, and I asked, “Are you bringing Germanicus instructions about what’s happening in Pannonia?”

  At this, he hesitated, and he asked suspiciously, “Why?”

  “Because if you are, there’s something you should know before you walk in there,” I explained patiently, not surprised at Dolabella’s reaction.

  I took a breath, then plunged ahead, telling him as briefly as possible about the revolt of the German Legions, and why I was there with Germanicus. Before I was finished, he was staggered to the point where he fell against the wall; this was disturbing, but then when he grabbed his chest, I felt a stab of alarm. Not, I should admit, out of any real concern for this man who had been such a rock in my caliga for so many years now, but because if he pitched over dead at my feet, it would require some explanation.

  “Are you all right?” I did ask him, but while he was gasping for breath, he nodded his head.

  Finally, he seemed recovered, then gave me a look that I had rarely seen on the agent’s face, sort of a rueful sadness, telling me, “I’ve been having these…spells recently. They come and go.” When he gave a small laugh, I was certain I heard a note of bitterness as he said, “I suppose things have been so…exciting the last few weeks, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Taking a deep breath, he seemed to gather himself, asking me, “You said they have a list of demands?”

  I nodded, and he asked me what they were, and I saw no reason not to tell him, although the thought did cross my mind that I was stealing Germanicus’ thunder, so to speak.

  Once I was finished, he said grimly, “Those are almost identical to the ones given by the Pannonian Legions.” Sighing, he said, “All right, thank you for warning me, Pullus.” His expression changed slightly, and he looked up at me, regarding me thoughtfully, which I did not quite understand, then he said, “Actually, you should come with me to see Germanicus.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he straightened up, took another deep breath, then strode to the door, clearly expecting me to follow; naturally, I did so, and because I did, I saw, or more accurately, heard the knock that Dolabella gave at the door, consisting of three sharp raps, then a pause, followed by two more but delivered even more quickly, then without waiting for a response, he opened the door. Curious, I made sure to be hard on his heels, certain that Germanicus would be at least irritated at Dolabella not waiting for permission, but instead of being angry, he looked relieved, which told me that this was a signal.

  Nevertheless, Dolabella displayed the proper decorum, approaching the desk while saying, “Please forgive this intrusion, Propraetor, but I come from…”

  “I know where you come from, Dolabella,” Germanicus interrupted, then amended, “or I know who you come from. Are you here bringing instructions, though? That’s the important thing.”

  “I am, sir,” Dolabella answered, but then he turned to indicate me. “However, when I saw Princeps Prior Pullus here, I was quite surprised. Naturally, I asked why. And,” Dolabella’s voice turned grave, “he explained why, so I know about Germania.”

  I was slightly surprised that Germanicus looked more relieved than anything, though thinking about it, I decided that I could understand why, if only to save time.

  Nodding, Germanicus asked tightly, “So? What does the Imperator want me to do?”

  “Actually,” Dolabella answered, “nothing.” Unsurprisingly, Germanicus’ expression hardened, and I thought that this was another example of how Tiberius did not trust him, but then Dolabella continued, “Because he’s sending Drusus to handle that. And,” Dolabella smiled slightly, “the reason he sent Drusus is because he suspected that there might be a similar situation in Germania.” This was when Tiberius’ agent produced a scroll, and I saw Tiberius’ seal on it, and he stepped clos
er to hand it to Germanicus, saying, “He had two sets of orders. These are what I was supposed to give you if his information was correct.”

  Germanicus snatched the scroll, unrolled it, and read it quickly. When he looked up, it was to me, and he gave me a smile. “Well, Pullus, it looks like we’ll be leaving for Germania at first light.”

  “Actually, Propraetor,” Dolabella spoke up, and despite playing it over in my mind, I do not believe that I could have possibly predicted what he was about to say, “I do have a request.” Germanicus frowned, but he indicated for Dolabella to continue, and I believe I can be forgiven for not paying close attention, not remotely imagining that I would be involved in any way; I was about to learn differently when Dolabella said, “I’d ask that Pullus come with me. I’m heading to Pannonia to…aid Drusus in his efforts to end this rebellion of the Pannonian Legions. And,” he turned to me, his face giving away nothing, “I believe Pullus here could prove to be a very valuable asset in that effort.”

  Germanicus was clearly skeptical, but I was no less so, and I protested by saying, “I understand that I served in the Army of Pannonia, but it’s been years. I don’t see how I could possibly be any help.” Struck by a thought, I pointed out, “I’m too far removed by now. Atticus was my Primus Pilus, but he hasn’t been in that post for some time, ever since he was named Camp Prefect. And,” I added, “let’s not forget why I was transferred from the 8th to the 1st. I can’t imagine the men have forgotten that.” Shaking my head, I said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see how me going to Pannonia will help anything.”