Marching With Caesar-Rebellion

by R. W. Peake

  Iras, either sitting next to Simeon, or when she would trade places with Birgit so she could nurse Miriam and spend time with Sextus and Valeria, watched the pair as they rode alongside the wagon, with mixed emotions. She was happy that Diocles had provided a way to help improve her son’s education, but she couldn’t help worrying about the boy’s almost obsessive interest in Titus Pullus. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the young Titus to know about his great-uncle and adoptive grandfather, yet she did fret that her son would have the same spell cast over him by Pullus’ exploits that her husband had experienced. She had heard more times than she could count how Titus Pullus’ visit to Gaius’ farm to see his sister Valeria and her son, young Gaius, had been the pivotal moment of Porcinus’ life and, as she watched Diocles and Titus together, she could almost feel the giant Roman’s shadow falling across the boy.

  The weather held for the first week, but just a day from Genua, a huge storm came rolling in from the sea. Even with a paved road, their progress was slowed by sheets of rain, driven almost horizontal by the wind. The thunder and lightning that accompanied the rain made the younger children whimper with fear, and despite their best efforts to stop it, water streamed through the cracks in the seaward side of the wagon to form puddles in the bed. It didn’t take long for Gallus, who had been appointed the de facto leader of the trip, to decide to find shelter, which they did at a farm where they were given space in the barn, only after Iras grudgingly dropped some coins into the hands of the farmer, who eyed the group with the kind of suspicion that locals always seem to have for anyone from outside their world. The weather didn’t break for two days, costing Iras even more money, and the enforced closeness of the barn – the farmer’s wife had taken one look at Iras and Birgit and, knowing her husband as she did, had forbidden them to enter the ramshackle house – wore on the entire party’s nerves. Not that there was an appreciable difference between the barn and the house, Iras had muttered to Birgit. Fortunately, the weather was fine after that, or at least good enough to keep traveling. Reaching Genua on the tenth day of the journey, they turned north, and they were all happy to leave the coast. It was at Placentia, two weeks into the return journey that they heard the first word of what had occurred to the north, at place they were calling Brigantium.

  “It was a bloody fight. At least, that’s what I heard,” was how Iras and her children were informed, but it was only Titus who had instantly known that what the two men next to them in the inn were talking about concerned his father and his Legion.

  “Let’s go outside,” Titus told his brother and sister, who protested at being pulled from their meal of bread and cheese, but Titus wouldn’t be swayed.

  Grabbing what they could, the pair of younger children allowed themselves to be led by the hand out of the inn, as Iras mouthed a silent thank you to Titus, who merely shrugged in reply. Diocles, Birgit, and the two bodyguards were sitting with them at the same table, but by unspoken consent, it was Gallus who turned to the man who was speaking.

  “Salve, friend.” Gallus’ tone was genial, but the man, who appeared by his dress to be some sort of merchant, eyed Gallus, taking in his soldier’s boots and belt, along with the sword, and seemed hesitant to engage in conversation.

  Ignoring the look, Gallus asked him, “We couldn’t help but overhear you talking about that fight up in Rhaetia.”

  “So?” The man was clearly suspicious, and he kept glancing from Gallus to Libo, not seeming to see the women or Diocles at all. “I was just talking. There’s no crime in that, is there?”

  Gallus put up a placating hand.

  “Pax, friend,” he said soothingly. “I mean no harm. And no, it’s no crime to talk about such things.”

  “Then why do you want to know?” The merchant’s tone turned belligerent; only then did Iras and the rest of her party notice how red-rimmed his eyes were.

  His companion was apparently not as inebriated, because he looked decidedly nervous. Gallus was doing his best to be patient, but Iras knew the man well enough to hear the strain in his voice as he tried to reason with the merchant.

  “We’re just curious. We’ve been down in Arelate, and this is the first we’ve heard about any of this. We just wanted…”

  “I don’t give a brass obol what you want,” the man snarled, and he tried to lurch to his feet.

  Fortunately, his legs weren’t ready to support his weight, so he collapsed back on the bench, and Iras heaved a silent sigh of relief. Gallus was clearly angry, but before he could say or do anything that would make the situation more difficult, Iras spoke up.

  “I’m sorry.” She adopted the manner that she had learned in the palace in Alexandria, that of a meek, slightly scared woman. “He’s just asking for my benefit. You see, my husband is a Centurion in the 8th Legion, and he was probably in this battle that you’re talking about. Those are his children that just went outside.” Suddenly inspired, she lifted Miriam up above the table, where she had been gurgling and cooing as her mother tried to eat her own meal. “This is his youngest daughter. That’s the only reason Gallus here is asking.”

  It was a good idea, and it would have worked if the man hadn’t been so drunk. Instead, her words brought a leer to his face as he looked from her to Gallus, then to Libo. Diocles, seated next to Birgit, instinctively pulled her closer to him and away from Gallus, who she was seated next to at the table.

  “This is not good,” he muttered so that only she could hear.

  “So, you say that your…husband is in the Legions?” the merchant asked Iras, but she knew from his tone that he wasn’t going to wait for an answer. “But here you are with him,” he jerked a thumb towards Gallus. “So my question is, how does this husband of yours know that brat is his?” He pointed to Libo. “Or his, for that matter? No respectable woman would be out traveling with this sort. Besides, Legionaries aren’t allowed to be married. Everyone knows that!”

  The merchant didn’t see the blow that knocked him from his spot on the bench. Iras did; so did Gallus, Libo, Diocles, and Birgit, because none of them were the ones who landed it. Titus had put his brother and sister in the wagon, and was returning, determined to hear about the battle his father had probably been in, and was just in time to hear the merchant’s last words. He hadn’t stopped to think; he had just launched himself at the drunken man who insulted his mother. They both landed on the floor, between the benches, with Titus on top, and the boy began pummeling the man, who was too stunned to do more than cover his head with his arms. Gallus took his time pulling Titus off the man, while the other patrons of the inn roared with laughter at the sight of a boy attacking a grown man. It took considerable effort on Gallus’ part to stop Titus, and it was with no little surprise that the bodyguard realized that this boy, even at ten years old, was almost as strong as a full-grown man. Finally, Gallus wrested Titus away as the merchant, his face red from the combination of drink, embarrassment, and the result of several of Titus’ blows, struggled to a sitting position. Handing Titus to Libo, who now had his one hand full with the struggling boy, Gallus leaned down to the man, offering his hand to help him up. The look of surprise on the merchant’s face was so comical that Iras had to suppress a giggle, despite the fact she was still angry at the slur.

  “You’re lucky it was just the boy,” Gallus said, “and that’s his mother you insulted.”

  For a moment, it appeared as if the man was going to slap Gallus’ hand away, but then his companion spoke up.

  “That’s more than you deserve, Mela. You insulted the lady. By rights, you’d be looking at your liver right now.”

  Grumbling under his breath, the merchant nevertheless took the offered hand and sat heavily on the bench. The other travelers, sensing that the entertainment was at an end, slowly returned their attention to their own business. With that matter settled, at least for the moment, the merchant was at least willing to talk.

  There are some things that are better off unknown; at least, that was the conclusion I
ras came to after hearing about the battle on the lake against the Rhaeti. The merchant had described it as a great victory, but also claimed that the casualties among the Legions were heavy, particularly so with the troops under the command of the young Drusus. At the same time, the name of Tiberius was being spoken of as a great general, and the ultimate architect of the masterstroke of attacking the enemy in the rear by rowing across the lake. All Iras knew was that her husband was involved; the merchant had been certain that the 8th was one of the attacking Legions. The only consolation came from the fact that this distracted Iras a great deal from the monotony of the trip, as the family continued their journey, through Placentia and on to Mutina. It was at Mutina that the party heard that the Legions had moved up into Noricum, where other tribes were rebelling. More troubling than that was the first muttering about unrest back in Pannonia. Despite this news, it didn’t change the route on which Iras had insisted; no amount of arguing or persuading could convince her to put her family on a boat again. What Gallus couldn’t understand was why Diocles, who had been able to convince Iras the first time, chose to remain silent this time. Unknown to Gallus, neither Iras nor Diocles were the real cause of this change of heart; Birgit was terrified of the idea of a sea voyage of any length. And Iras, who hadn’t been excited about the idea of another sea passage herself, had been receptive to her fears. Her motives weren't entirely based on fear; she also wanted to give Titus as much uninterrupted time with Diocles as she could. Once they returned to Siscia, as Diocles and Iras had discussed it, they had decided that the Greek would begin tutoring the other children as well. Going further, they agreed that the best way to dispel any talk of young Titus being groomed for ideas above his station was to offer Diocles' services to the children of other Centurions as well. With that in mind, Iras wanted Titus to have the undivided attention from Diocles for as long as she could get away with, although it was not only the other children who were upset with the idea that their big brother wouldn't spend at least part of the day with them in the wagon, or ride behind it on Ocelus. Now that both Birgit and Diocles had declared their feelings for the other, they seemed determined to make up for the time they had lost mooning over each other in Arelate. On this, Iras had held firm; they were stopping early enough in the day that the pair could enjoy their nights, although she noted with quiet amusement how often Diocles started the day looking haggard, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep, while Birgit was positively beaming with happiness. Titus had noticed this as well, although his attitude was more of bemusement than anything else; he understood the sexual act well enough, given how often he heard his parents panting and moaning, but he just couldn't quite grasp why adults seemed to be such fools about it. He had heard often enough men referring to it as an itch that needed to be scratched, which puzzled him even more, thinking of the analogy literally. When he scratched an itch, it obviously felt pleasant and brought relief, but he didn't do it any longer than it took to stop the itch. And he didn't keep scratching after it stopped itching! When he brought this up to Gallus, understanding that Diocles was hardly in the right frame of mind to discuss such matters, the bodyguard had laughed and given him the same answer adults always seemed to give.

  "Don't worry. One day, you'll understand."

  He seriously doubted that.

  One other pleasant byproduct of taking the overland route was that it gave the travelers the chance to see more of the country than they would have taking the same way back. At least, it started pleasantly enough, except the farther east they moved, the more disturbing the signs became that there was something going on. It started with small things, most often expressed in the demeanor and greetings that came from other travelers, but it didn't take long for all of them to notice that the traffic heading west was getting heavier by the day. It was when they were still two days away from Emona, the last town they would pass through before reaching Siscia and home that the nature of the traffic changed as well. Before they had gone five miles of that day’s journey, Iras counted no less than a dozen carts and wagons, each of them heavily loaded and accompanied by what to any observer looked like families. However, none of the westbound travelers said anything, or even acknowledged the calls of Gallus, or Libo, about why there were so many people on the Via Postumia. Finally, Gallus and Libo together forced a wagon to stop by blocking the road next to their own wagon, at a spot where the wagon driver simply couldn't swing wide onto the dirt next to the paved road because it was too muddy. The driver, clearly alarmed, leaped from his seat, waving what to Titus looked like nothing more than a stave or perhaps a pick handle, but he was quickly joined by two teenage boys who had clambered down from the back of the wagon, each of them armed with their own pieces of wood.

  Gallus held both his hands out, as Libo did the same, calling out, "Pax, friend! We mean you no harm! We're just trying to find out why everyone seems in such a hurry heading the opposite direction that we are."

  The man, clearly unconvinced, scowled suspiciously at the pair, then his eyes darted over to where Titus and Diocles were sitting on their horses, just behind their own wagon. It appeared that he was weighing his best options when Sextus and Valeria chose that moment to pop their heads out from their wagon to have a better view of what was a break in the monotony. Seeing the children, the man visibly relaxed, although his demeanor didn't change.

  "You mean you don't know?" His tone was still suspicious.

  "No," Gallus assured him. "We're coming from Arelate, returning to our home in Siscia...."

  He got not further as the man gave a snorting laugh that held no humor.

  "No chance of that," he said, shaking his head to emphasize the point. "If you're smart, you'll go no farther than Emona."

  "But why?" Titus was the one who asked this question, ignoring the envious stares of the two youths who were trying to determine how someone their age could afford a horse like that, even as old as it was.

  "Why?" the man echoed, then gave that humorless laugh again. "I'll tell you why, boy. The entire province of Pannonia has risen up in revolt, that's why! Those barbarian scum are killing every Roman they find! None of us are safe!"

  This declaration prompted Iras to stand up from where she had been playing with the children and, at the sight of her, the man finally relaxed.

  It didn't change his near-hysteria, however, as he turned to Iras. "Mistress, you need to listen to me! You're not safe, nor are your children! You’d do well to turn around right now and follow us out of this cursed place!"

  "But our home is in Siscia," Iras replied calmly. "We've been away a long time and just want to go home."

  The man shook his head impatiently, insisting, "You'll never make it to Siscia! I told you, the entire province is in rebellion! The Legions are nowhere near because they've been sent over to Rhaetia and Noricum! Siscia is defenseless!"

  "That's not true," Gallus interjected firmly. "There are three Cohorts of auxiliary troops that are always left there."

  "If you want to put your lives in the hands of a bunch of barely trained rabble that aren't even citizens, that's your business. But you shouldn't be putting the lady and her children in danger because of your misplaced faith!"

  Like all men of the Legions, even those no longer under the standard, neither Gallus nor Libo viewed the auxiliaries as the equal of Legionaries, yet they also knew that they were much more than “barely trained rabble.” Nevertheless, Gallus instantly saw that there was no reasoning with this man, who seemed very close to losing his mind from fear. Instead, he turned to Iras, the question clear in his gaze.

  Without hesitation, she spoke up loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I thank you for your concern, sir. But we’re going to Siscia. I have the utmost faith in the men of the auxiliaries, and I also know that if matters are as you say, the Legions are even now marching here."

  Staring at her disbelievingly, the man's mouth hung open for a moment before he made one last attempt.

  "Lady, I beg you. If you insist on h
eading east, I can't stop you, but I implore, no, I beg you for the sake of your children not to go farther than Emona."

  Rather than argue further, Iras simply said, "We will stop in Emona."

  With nothing further to be said, the bodyguards moved aside and allowed the other wagon to pass.

  Because of the rattling din of the wheels rolling over the paving stones, the man didn't hear her finish, "For the night. Then we go on to Siscia."

  Iras had much cause to regret those words. When they reached Emona, the fear of the citizens was at a fever pitch, brought on by news of a series of raids on some small settlements and farms to the north. It was impossible for Gallus to determine what was fact and what was the fevered imaginings of terrified townspeople, but he determined that, at the very least, something serious was taking place. That night, at the same inn they had stopped at on the way, which was almost deserted, Iras, Diocles, and the bodyguards discussed matters. Insisting on attending was Titus, taking the charge given to him by his father of protecting the family extremely seriously, even if it had been given in jest. It was a sign of Iras' worry that she not only didn't forbid his attendance, when he showed up wearing his sword, she only made a half-hearted attempt to have him put it back in the wagon. The talk was tense, as the two bodyguards tried to convince Iras that just because the man they had met a couple days before on the road was almost out of his mind with fear, it didn’t mean his advice wasn’t sound. But as Porcinus could have told them, and as they had learned over the course of this trip, Iras could be incredibly stubborn. In fact, when she and Porcinus argued about who had given what trait to their children, the charge that Titus' bullheadedness came from her was one she found impossible to refute. That characteristic was fully engaged during what quickly became a heated discussion.