by R. W. Peake
Word shot through the army like lightning that Caesar was being awarded a triumph in Rome, and the rumor was that he would be taking the entire army with him to enter the city. Almost as quickly, the word changed, as it is wont to do in an army, although this rumor had the added weight of turning out to be true, at least partially. We were then told that, rather than taking the army, Caesar would be taking the more senior Legions, meaning the 7th, 8th and 9th, leaving the 10th behind. Supposedly the idea was that, over the next years we of the 10th would have our chances to celebrate triumphs, but I can tell you that it did not set well with us. The day before Caesar and the other Legions left for the march to Rome, near the end of October, we were paraded for one final formation in front of the Praetor, where awards for individual bravery were handed out. It was on this occasion that I won my first decoration, a set of phalarae for my actions on the hill when we had been surrounded.
My only warning was the night before, when the Pilus Prior bashed me with his vitus because he judged the coat of varnish on my harness was lacking, and he asked, “What if by some miracle you happened to be chosen to be decorated, eh Pullus? Would you really embarrass the Cohort and the Legion with that sorry job?”
“No, Pilus Prior.”
And I applied another coat of varnish to my harness, although I was sure that when I was finished it looked exactly the same as when I started.
That formation the next day was a glorious affair, one of the reasons Vibius and I joined the army. All four Legions, arrayed in formation in dress uniforms with the horsehair plumes, those of the army previously earning decorations wearing them, with the Centurions standing in front of their Centuries. The weather was glorious and I wished that my sisters and Gaia and Phocas were here to see what was happening, but I had no time to send word to them. I was one of about 30 men from the 10th Legion to be decorated, including two other men from my Century, Rufio being one of them. Two men were awarded the coronacivicus for saving fellow Romans from certain death, and while their awards are the simplest, it is the most prized. The award itself is nothing more than grass plaited together to form a simple crown, yet what it represents is the highest honor one individual Roman can win. Pilus Prior Crastinus was awarded the coronamurales for being the first over the wall in the assault on the first town, his third such award. Although he could have left it to one of the Tribunes in command of the Legion that day, Caesar chose to personally award all the decorations, despite it taking more than a full watch for all of the Legions. Even though he must have talked to more than a hundred men being decorated, he still remembered most of their names, including mine.
“Gregarius Pullus, I’m happy to see that you survived your first campaign. From what I heard, that’s an exceeding accomplishment, given your habit of always being in the front.”
I did not think it appropriate to mention that most of the time I had been at the front, I was ordered there by the Pilus Prior; there are some things that generals do not need to know. Instead, I felt the heat rise to my face and all I could manage was a mumbled thanks, which he was gracious enough to ignore. Despite being at intente, I found my eyes moving down to the silver disks that make up the phalarae, each of them emblazoned with a symbol of the Legion, in this case the bull. By the end of my career, the phalarae would bear the likeness of Octavian and his wife, or of Caesar, but at the beginning of my time under the standard it used the symbol that was identified with the Legion that one served with when winning it. At the same time as the individual awards were given, decorations were given to individual Legions and Cohorts for valor of special significance. These awards are discs like the individual phalarae, but they have no special engraving and are larger than the individual awards, and are attached to the Signifer of the Cohort. Second Cohort was awarded two of these decorations, more than the other Cohorts, each of whom received one, a fact that only served to fuel the rivalry and resentment of the other Cohorts, which we did nothing to lessen in any way. The final blessing we received from Caesar came in his closing remarks to the army, where he singled out the 10th for special praise, saying that if he ever had need of a Legion in the future, we would be the first to be called. There is no way to describe the effect of these words among us and I think that day, perhaps more than any of his subsequent actions, Caesar won the loyalty and affection of the 10th Legion, something he would use to the fullest in later days.
The next morning, Caesar left for Rome, followed by the Legions he had selected to march in his Triumph in Rome, who would march at a much slower pace than Caesar did. As fast as Caesar moved with an army, he was even faster when traveling on his own, with only his personal entourage, lictors and bodyguard. He had made it to Corduba from Rome in 24 days, and there was no reason to believe that he would move any slower on the way back. The other three Legions marched off with him, and while we still held some resentment, it turned out that they marched a long way for nothing. Once Caesar arrived in Rome, he was faced with a choice of entering the city in triumph at the cost of running for Consul, the custom being that no general under arms could run for the Consulship. Supposedly the idea behind this was that the voters would be unduly influenced by the presence of armed troops. Therefore, the 7th, 8th and 9th ended up being sent to winter at Aquileia without ever setting foot in Rome, a fact that pleased us to no end. The rest of us were given orders that now that Hispania was pacified, we would be marching east to what would become not only our winter quarters, but our home base for the next two years, Narbo Martius. None of this was known to us at the time; all we knew was that we would be spending the winter somewhere else. Before we left we were allowed a week of leave, staggered over the next month, and so it was around the Ides of November that Vibius and I found ourselves making our way home, a trip that for at least one of us was something to rejoice about, since Vibius was going to see Juno. So was I, but that was more painful than pleasurable; yet, I was looking forward to seeing her as much as Vibius despite the pain.
We came swaggering into Astigi, wearing our full dress uniform, minus our shields and javelins of course, but wearing both of our blades. I took great care to polish the phalarae to a high sheen and truth be known, I was looking forward to showing off to Juno, letting her see for herself who the better man was. Almost as soon as those types of thoughts crossed my mind though, I would feel ashamed, yet at the same time I seemed unable to control my mind from going in that direction. Both of us carried our personal items in our pack slung from our furca, loaded with souvenirs and some of the more interesting booty that we had earned in this campaign. Vibius was particularly anxious to give Juno a rather exquisite gold necklace, inlaid with enamel and semi-precious stones, including topaz that Vibius swore would match her eyes. I was dubious; I thought her eyes were more blue than green. However, I was smart enough to know that arguing the point with Vibius might give him an indication that I was paying attention to the color of Juno’s eyes, and nothing good could come of that, so I held my peace. For my own part, I brought a couple of bracelets for my sisters, a brooch for Gaia and a gold armband carved with an intricate pattern of leaves and such for Phocas. For Lucius, I brought nothing but myself and my scorn, and the determination that I was going to rub in his face the success I had made of myself, still some months short of my seventeenth birthday. I will say that, even after all these years, the feeling we both got when we walked into Astigi’s forum, all eyes suddenly upon these two bronzed and hardened warriors, is a memory that I still savor. Particularly since some of the first people we ran into were our old nemeses Marcus and Aulus, who still spent their days skulking around the town, picking on people weaker than they were. These were the two boys who I once caught dumping Vibius headfirst into a bucket of cac that some citizen had neglected to dump out, surrounded by a small group of other boys who they had intimidated and awed into following them about. Using my size and strength, I thrashed Marcus and couple of other boys, while Vibius almost killed Aulus with a rock, and there had been bad blood b
etween them and Vibius and I ever since. Neither of them ever adopted a trade; at least, that is what we were told later by Juno, and yet they always seemed to have enough money to keep them well plied with cheap wine and in the favor of the few whores who lived in Astigi. What I always found strange was that they still managed to attract a small crowd of toadies and minions, weaklings who sought the protection and approval of Marcus and Aulus by being as vicious as they could get away with. Vibius and I stopped to talk with the woman who we had once bought our weekly meat pies from, basking in her adoration and the admiring glances of all the females in the area, not minding that most of them were old enough to be our mothers. As we were chatting I caught sight of the two, standing off to the side, surrounded by their pack, and it was their bad luck that I happened to look up when Marcus was pointing at us and saying something that the others thought to be the funniest thing they had ever heard. Our eyes locked, and I saw the color drain from Marcus’ face. That should have been enough for me, but it was not.
I nudged Vibius and when he looked over, I nodded in their direction and said quietly, “Apparently there’s something about us that amuses our old friends. I think we should go over to say hello and find out what’s so funny. I’m always in the mood for a laugh, aren’t you Vibius?”
He grinned at me, and replied cheerfully, “Absolutely! Excuse us ladies, we need to go catch up with some old friends.”
As he turned to join me, I saw the looks of alarm on the faces of the women we were talking to and I thought to placate them. “Don’t worry, ladies. They’re old friends of ours. We just want to catch up.”
“Don’t take me for an idiot Titus Pullus,” sniffed the meat pie vendor, “I know exactly what kind of ‘friends’ you are with those two, though I can’t say that if you killed them anyone here would shed a tear. I just don’t need our place of business being torn to shreds, that’s all.”
Giving her a look of complete innocence, I made my eyes as wide as I could, not fooling her a bit. Walking casually over to the group, none of them seemed to know exactly what to do, choosing to look to Marcus and Aulus for an indication. For their part, we had stared across our shield into the eyes of our enemy enough to read exactly what was going through their minds, and it was not that different than what we had seen in the faces of Lusitani and Gallaeci. Their instinct was screaming at them to make a hasty retreat, while their pride was cementing their feet in place, suiting us just fine.
“Salve ladies,” Vibius called out, causing both Marcus and Aulus to flush with anger and embarrassment, yet both of them wisely bit back a retort.
Instead, Marcus tried to sound pleasant as he responded. “Salve Pullus and Domitius. It’s good to see you back safe and sound. We’ve heard of the licking you applied to those savages up north. I’ll bet you both saw plenty of action, neh?”
I felt myself smiling; I can guess that it was not very convincing. “You could say that,” I replied coolly. “But at least we faced real men. Better than anyone we’ve beaten before.”
I knew how insulting this was, yet somewhere along the short distance walking over to them, I went from wanting to mildly humiliate them to deciding to provoke them enough to give me an excuse to kill them. All of them if I could find enough of a reason for it.
I saw the look of surprise flit across Vibius’ face as well, but he instantly quashed it and like the good friend that he was, waded in by my side. “Yes, Marcus. Titus is telling the truth. The men we killed make everyone we ever faced before that look like their mother’s afterbirth.”
Both Marcus and Aulus went white with rage and I saw Aulus’ hand move to his belt. Underneath his tunic, concealed from sight, I could make out the outline of a dagger of some sort, and the smile on my face widened as I realized that I might be getting my wish. Vibius continued as I watched and waited. “So what have you……boys been up to since we’ve been gone? Been beating up on cripples?”
Finally, Marcus could take no more, though as I look back, I truly wonder if he realized just how much danger he was in the instant he uttered his next words. “Why don’t you ask Juno what I’ve been up to?” he shot back. “She and I have gotten to be very…..close.”
I did not even see it happen; as I’ve said before, Vibius was always much quicker than I was, but even for him this was the fastest I had ever seen anyone move. Before I could blink, Marcus was standing rooted to the ground, eyes open in shock as the point of Vibius’ dagger pushed into the soft area just at the base of Marcus’ jaw where it met the throat. Vibius pushed hard enough that a trickle of blood began to flow down Marcus’ throat, and despite himself, I heard Marcus whimper in fear. If it had ended there, it would have been enough to keep Marcus and Aulus from misbehaving, at least for the whole time we were on leave, but then Aulus had to do something stupid. Seeing his hand closing on the hilt of his dagger, while I was and never would be as quick as Vibius, I was still very fast, so before he had gotten his blade halfway out of his scabbard, I pulled my sword to make a perfect thrust, blade parallel to the ground and aimed at more or less the same spot where Vibius had pinned Marcus, except I did not stop at his throat. The point exited the back of Aulus’ skull, striking the side of the building where they were standing, burying itself an inch or two deep into the wood. That mark would remain there for the next several years before the building was torn down and replaced, the blood staining the wood around it, reminding me of that day every time I came home. As my blade struck, there was a collective gasp and a couple of the toadies let out a shout, while Marcus’ whimpering became a moan of fear, and the air filled with the smell of fresh urine as he lost control of his bladder. Aulus’ eyes remained open, bulging out as they stared at me while I watched his animus flee his body, a sight I had seen happen so many times before in the previous months, and his dagger clattered to the ground, making the loudest sound to this point. He remained standing only because I supported him on the end of my blade, and I reveled in the feeling of strength as I maintained my form, my arm out and parallel to the ground, with Aulus more or less dangling from my sword. After a moment, I quickly withdrew my blade and he collapsed in a heap, while I became aware of the heavy silence of the crowd around us, yet I refused to act concerned. Somehow I knew our future rested on how we conducted ourselves in the next few moments; if we behaved like we had done something wrong, then the chances were high that we would have trouble. However, if we acted like we had done nothing more than defend ourselves, and in a sense we had done just that, then I was sure all would be well. Acting deliberately, I wiped my blade off on Aulus’ tunic, my nose wrinkling at the smell as his body lost control of its functions and his bowels emptied. Any shock Vibius felt at what I did he instantly covered up, seemingly realizing the same thing, that this was all going to hinge on the next few moments.
Saying loudly enough for everyone to hear as I bent down to pick up Aulus’ dagger, I waved it in the air, “Your friend should have been more careful who he tried to kill, Marcus.”
Helping our cause was the stark terror, not only on Marcus’ part, but on his half-dozen followers, none of whom seemed inclined to point out that we had started the argument. Behind us, we could hear the beginning of talk, followed by the sounds of feet running towards us. I turned, quickly but with deliberation, sheathing my sword while holding onto Aulus’ dagger, in time to see three men of the city watch come trotting up, stopping when they saw two Legionaries standing in front of a body. The oldest one, a man of about 40 with a long white scar down the side of his face, approached us, hand on the hilt of his own sword while taking pains to show that he was not inclined to pull it.
“What happened here, Legionary Pullus?”
I remembered his name was Cornuficius and that he had been a member of Pompey’s Legions that retired in this area, deciding farming was not to his liking and taking the job as commander of the city watch. We had spoken a few times, but I held no opinion of him one way or another, and he seemed to be of a like mind.
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br /> Pointing down to Aulus, I responded calmly, “This man was stupid enough to try pulling a dagger on me. I killed him before he could use it.”
Eyes narrowing, he stared at Aulus’ body then looked me in the eye, obviously sensing that there was more to the story, but I was not willing to say anything more until I was asked. By this time Vibius had dropped his arm, although he still held his dagger in his hands, never taking his eyes off of Marcus, who was just now seeming to come out of his trance. I realized that for all their bluster and swaggering, neither Marcus nor his gang, and certainly not dead Aulus, possessed any experience in this kind of deadly action, and in fact this was probably the first time they ever faced a sudden death or seen one of their own die violently.
Turning his attention to Vibius, Cornuficius asked him quietly, “And what’s your part in this Domitius?”
Vibius shrugged, though he still did not take his eyes off of Marcus. Nodding at Marcus, Vibius replied, “This man insulted my betrothed. I took exception to it, and as we were talking, it’s like Titus said. Aulus decided to pull his dagger. Titus was quicker.”
His voice was flat, without emotion, a simple recitation of facts given in the manner in which we were trained; no flourishes, no commentary, just a plain and simple action report. It was a method of communicating with which Cornuficius was clearly familiar and he nodded as if it confirmed his suspicions. I thought we were in the clear, when finally Marcus came out of his trance.