by Ian Miller
Libo laughed. "No, I don't, and anyway, I don't teach all that many. I've taught you because even though your father's not exactly popular, he's been good to me and my family."
"He likes you."
"I know," Libo replied. "The second reason is you're a thinker. No, don't apologize! Most of the time it's good, but don't overdo it in combat. In every combat there are a number of tiny openings. You make some; the opponent's carelessness makes some. Being a left-hander will give you more than most would get, and being unusually tall will give you some more, so take advantage of them."
"I try."
"Yes, I know. In practice. Why did you keep bashing away at my knee. I can hardly walk on it."
"I'm sorry, I . . ."
"Don't be! That was combat. Now, why?"
"The first blow just happened. After that I thought I could slow you down and . . ."
"Good!" Libo said, and poured more wine into Gaius' cup. "Drink up! If you want to get soldiers on your side, you've got to drink with them! Now, Gaius, the first blow didn't just happen. That was one of those moments when I was slightly off balance and you made me pay. That's what I mean by taking advantage of a moment. Then you decided I had a weakness and you went to exploit it. That's good. Now, explain your end-game."
"Well," Gaius said slowly, "I started off trying to keep you off my left side, and when I succeeded I kept closing in on the right with my shield until I could get you on the weaker knee, then I feinted to distract you and went left so . . ."
"Well constructed," Libo nodded. "That's your strength, so build on it. Now, another weakness! You called me an old windbag."
"Well, yes, I suppose . . ."
"I barely heard it!" Libo snorted. "Remember the value of taunts in battle. If you make your opponent mad, you make him careless. Try to fight on your terms, not his."
"I'll try to practice," Gaius smiled and took a good swallow of wine.
"Another thing, you're not very strong yet. That's a matter of age, and exercise. Try to strengthen yourself, but if you get into a fight, try to keep at a distance and keep moving. Don't let yourself get boxed in. Use your reach, and your movement."
"I am spending some time doing the strengthening exercises you gave me," Gaius said, "but I'm not planning on getting into any more fights than I can help."
"Good," Libo smiled, then the smile went. "Now, I've taught you to kill, because either you kill them or they kill you. Kill if need be without a moment's hesitation, but never kill for the sake of killing. Do you understand?"
"I've already promised," Gaius said simply.
"That I believe you is why I taught you," Libo smiled. "This will be the last time we meet, I think, and I must give you some more advice."
"The last time? But . . ."
"Your family leaves tomorrow for Capreae?"
"The Princeps has required that we attend . . ." The boy paused.
"I know," Libo nodded. "Your stub of the Claudian gens has not been one of the favourite ones. Senatorial rank, and on the wrong side of every major issue."
"I know," Gaius smiled wryly. "Leaving aside such matters as our position on the Gracchus issue, and opposing the dictatorial powers of Sulla, we opposed Crassus' campaign against the Parthians . . ."
"Correctly! That was a disaster."
"True, but we opposed it before it was a disaster. Then one of us fought with Gnaeus Pompeius at Pharsalus . . ."
"A lot of Romans thought a lot of Pompeius."
"But not the other Claudians when they united with the Julians!"
"Trying to make up by supporting Antony was not exactly the brightest move either," Libo grinned.
"Nor was maintaining a low profile later," the boy agreed, "although keeping our mouths shut about a return of the Republic when Tiberius offered to decline the position of Princeps was probably a step in the right direction."
"It was not," Libo snorted. "Unlike Augustus, Tiberius the soldier didn't bullshit! I think he'd have supported a return to the Republic."
"Not now," Gaius shrugged.
"Probably not," Libo agreed, "but that's outside our concern. Now, listen to me. When you see Tiberius, stand up straight, look him in the eye, tell the truth, and don't be ashamed. Be respectful, don't be a smart-arse, and don't be intimidated." Libo paused, and Gaius remained silent. "Good! Don't let your mouth run away with you. If Tiberius wants to hear your opinion, he'll ask. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut, and whatever happens, don't show fear. The Tiberius I knew was never happier than with soldiers. Even if you're not one, look like you could be one. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"If the worst comes to the worst, and only then, tell Tiberius I'm calling in a debt."
"What do you mean?" He coughed as, in his surprise, wine went the wrong way.
"I once saved Tiberius' life," Libo said. "He promised me he would grant me whatever I wanted. I never got around to asking, so in an emergency, and only then, try that. Understand?"
"Thank you."
"Now, suppose you get to a legion. Because your family's of senatorial class, you'll start as Tribunus Laticlavius." He turned to the boy and growled, "Think you deserve it?"
"That's unfair," the boy nodded.
"That's not what I asked," Libo growled again. "The question is, do you deserve it?"
Gaius looked Libo in the eye. "I have to. I've got to learn enough to do the job better than anyone else."
"Good answer," Libo nodded. "Now, when you get to a legion, check the reputation of the Legatus. Learn what you can from what he does if he's good, and maybe what he doesn't if he's not so good. Understand?"
"Yes."
"How'll you know whether he's good or bad?" Libo challenged.
"Find out how many battle's he's won, see if morale's good, see . . ."
"Don't stare, but watch the Centurions when he's finished giving orders. They'll obey, but usually you can tell what they think of them. Which gets to the next point. The soldiers'll want you to lead, and that doesn't mean you charge off waving a sword."
"I'll try not to charge foolishly . . ."
"Yes, but let's forget about what you won't do and think about what you will do. What's the most important thing to do?"
"Make sure everyone's fed and equipped properly," Gaius replied quickly.
"That's a good start," Libo agreed. "If the men know you're in control of everything before the start of an engagement, they'll believe you'll stay in control. What else?"
"Do proper scouting," Gaius replied. "Organise any battle on my terms, at least as far as I can."
"You've got the right idea, except you're in danger of that weakness of thinking too much. If in doubt, it's better to plod in the standard Roman way than try for a sequence of brilliancies with all sorts of odd results."
"But?"
Libo smiled. "Don't forget the human touch. Strictly speaking, you only have to be right one more time than your opponent but the men want to think you're right all the time. Look confident, even if you haven't a clue what to do next. If you want a clue, you ask those with experience, but how and what you ask is important. If you want to know how long it would take to march to a hill and make camp, ask a Centurion. They know and they'll respect you for wanting to get the details right. But if you want to know something more subjective, ask your immediate juniors, and put it like a test. You know, what would you do if . . ? Make it look as if you're asking what they would do, to see if you could trust them. Never give the impression you haven't a clue.
"Now, before an engagement, go around and cheer up the men. How do you do that? By showing them you care. Remember, it's nowhere nearly as important what you say as that you've taken the time to say it. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Then there's nothing more to say," Libo said, "except to wish you good luck."
"Thank you," Gaius said, then he added, "You realize, of course, that Tiberius may end my military career before it begins?"
"Be yourself," Li
bo offered. "The old Tiberius would respect that, and if the old Tiberius is dead, then may the Gods help Rome."
The two sat against a rock, drinking wine, then finally they each knew it was time to part. Without speaking, they rose, embraced, then Gaius turned, gathered his equipment and strode away. He did not glance back. He could not believe that he would never see his old instructor again, but he knew that Libo was convinced, and that made him feel very very sad.
Chapter 3
But for the orders from Tiberius they would have waited. The sea was leaden grey, the wind howled, and their tiny boat was tossed about on the enormous waves seemingly like a leaf. The journey from Neapolis was not very far, but the wind was howling and the sea angry. Apart from Gaius and his younger sister Lucilla, the family had been hopelessly sick. Gaius had stood manfully at the bow, staring forward, as much as anything so that the wind would blow the smell away from him. He watched the sea, and found that he could predict what the boat would do. It seemed to help, and the soaking spray and the numbing cold seemed to take his mind from his stomach. Even so, he was so glad when the cliffs of Capreae began to offer some shelter. As the harbour approached, the wind still howled, the rain still belted his face, but the waves were much smaller and the boat began to gain some stability.
They arrived at about two in the afternoon, to be greeted by a small detachment of soldiers, who helped unload their belongings. The family then followed the soldiers as they marched towards the northeast along a path that soon began to climb. They climbed for a little under two kilometres, then suddenly it came into view: a glistening but massive building, with several terraces and a simply huge number of levels. Gaius just stopped and stared in disbelief.
"Impressive, isn't it?" a soldier patted him on the back.
"It's immense," Gaius replied, then he added, as he turned to the soldier, "It must have been fun carrying all the stuff up there to fill that place."
"Yeah," the soldier nodded. He had obviously been one of those who had so laboured. "You realize," he added with a grin, "it's on the edge of a cliff."
"There must be quite a view," Gaius said.
"Indeed there is, and there is also quite a fall."
"Better not fall then."
"You may not have a choice," the soldier continued grinning. "If Tiberius doesn't like you, he just tosses you off the ledge." He gave Gaius a firm pat and marched onwards.
'Just what I needed,' Gaius thought to himself. 'A reminder that not everybody who comes here goes back!'
Not that there was any choice. He must march onwards, and remembering Libo's advice, show no fear. The party entered the complex, were given rooms, then were offered lunch. Since he was the only family member who had not been sick, he gobbled that down and asked where he could find the Princeps' library.
"You won't be allowed in there," was the reply from one of the servants.
"Not if I don't ask," Gaius replied, and when he was given directions, he set off and soon found it.
He entered the doorway and gasped. The library was almost a villa in its own right. There were scrolls across all the walls, and there were rows of shelves all full of scrolls. He had never imagined so many scrolls could exist. A reader's heaven, but there was still the problem of getting permission to enter. He looked around then saw an elderly man with a horribly blotched face sitting in a corner, reading. With nobody else in sight, he walked quietly towards the man and explained as politely as he could who he was, why he was there, and asked how he could obtain permission to spend the afternoon reading.
"Want to make a good impression?" came the gruff response.
"I doubt I could," Gaius replied. "No, I wish to look up a couple of things." He then explained that his Grammaticus had told him that the Greeks had measured the size of the world, and he wished to see their argument. He had been told that the Princeps was interested in astronomy, so he hoped the items were available. Secondly, he wished to see the Princeps' account of his German expedition.
"You're going to crawl!" the old man spat.
"The Princeps won't even know," Gaius retorted.
"Then why are you so interested?" The old man put down the scroll, and for the first time looked into the boy's eyes.
"According to old Libo, there was a difficult decision . . ."
"And this Libo's an authority?" the old man scowled.
"Well, he was there," Gaius spoke back firmly. Nobody was going to run down Libo. "He was a Centurion, and he saved the Princeps' life, so . . ."
"Describe him!"
"A bit above average height, strong build, a scar running down here," Gaius said, and run his finger down the side of his face.
"And how do you know him?" Gaius did not notice it, but the old man had a slight tear in his eye.
"He's taught me about military things," Gaius replied. "He's given me training in weapons, and he taught me about how the legions work."
"I see. He must have thought something of you?"
"I believe so, yes. Anyway, how do I get permission to . . ?"
"Tell me about this difficult decision you wish to look up?" The old man stared, then seemed to soften, as he added, "I might be able to tell you where to find what you're looking for."
"As I understand it, the legion had advanced too far into the German forest, Tiberius had left its rear flank unguarded, and he suspected a trap," Gaius said earnestly. "He could do three things when he reached a river. He could go upstream, downstream, or go back. I want to know why he chose as he did."
"Why?"
"To know how commanders think."
"You think you might command one day?" the old man challenged.
"I doubt it," Gaius said sadly, then added in a determined tone, "but if I get any chance at all, I'm going to get it right."
"For the Princeps' journals, look in the second alcove on the right," the old man pointed. "For your first enquiry, you'll find someone around the first corner to the left. Ask him, and if he can stop stuttering, he'll tell you."
"Thank you." Gaius bowed his head respectfully, then as the old man gave a smile of almost disbelief, he walked in the direction of the pointed finger. The first corner to the left was obvious, but when he turned it there was nobody in sight. He walked on a little, passed the first row of shelves and kept walking, and was wondering what to do next when he heard a sound behind him. He turned to face the man, and his first impression was that somehow this man was strangely awkward, although had he been pressed he would have had considerable difficulty in explaining why he thought that. He was not standing straight, and while his eyes were darting furtively, as if he was not supposed to be there, there was also something strangely imperious about him.
"G..Greetings." The stutterer!
"Greetings," Gaius replied very respectfully. "Excuse me, but I was told you could help me."
"H how?"
Gaius explained what he was looking for. The man nodded, reached up and half pulled out one scroll, then he tugged Gaius' arm and led him to the other. As he came out of the library bay he seemed to stoop slightly and he began to shuffle. Again, when he reached the alcove, he straightened a little, then climbed to reach one of the highest scrolls, which he pulled out. "Th..there's a t..table there." he pointed.
"Thank you," Gaius said, and placed his first lot of scrolls on the designated table. He then recovered the German campaign scroll, and sat down to read.
It took longer to find the discussion on the size of the Earth within the scroll than to follow the argument. Once pointed out, it was obvious. There was a place far up the Nile where, on the summer solstice, the sun at noon was directly overhead. They knew that because the sun would shine on the bottom of a well. At the same time but a large distance to the north, they measured the length of the shadow from a vertical stick. Now, provided that the plumb bob at each point pointed to the centre of the sphere, the sun, a stick and the centre lay on a straight line at the first point, but the sun made an angle with the centre-stick line at
the second point. The size of the angle was known from the size of the shadow, and from this, the size of the angle between the two stick-centre lines was known. That told what angle the arc of the circle represented, and they knew the length. Multiply it out to a whole circle, and the Earth had a circumference of thirty-seven thousand kilometres. Gaius was fascinated. Simple geometry!
But that was enough of that. He had to read the other scroll. He found the section quickly enough, and read the arguments. What was strange, he thought, was that each argument was reasonably persuasive and, what was more annoying, it was not clear why the given decision was made. Nor was it clear why Tiberius went so far into the forest. If it was to catch the Germans and teach them a lesson, why did he not go straight back the way he had come? The counter argument was, the Germans would catch them, but surely that was the object! Unless Tiberius was too weak to deal with them, but if that were the case, why go so far? As he sat back to puzzle on this, he suddenly realized that the issue was not quite as clear as he expected it to be.
"G g got what you w want?"
"I found the item, thank you," Gaius replied, "but I'm not too sure how much it helps."
"Th th that's what often h happens." The smile of almost condescension suddenly disappeared as the man must have seen someone approaching. "P p please, don't tell where I am!" With that he turned into an alcove.
An imperious young man strode into the room, his glance sweeping over the boy without a sign of acknowledgement.
"Where are you?" he sneered slowly. Silence. Again he said in a teasing tone, "Claudius!"
"Yes sir!" Gaius offered.
"Who are you?" The expression was that of someone who had just discovered a roach.
"Claudius, sir."
"Oh, you would be, wouldn't you. And what snivelling idiot let you in here?"
Gaius looked out the corner of his eye to see the old man nod imperceptibly. "He did," Gaius offered.
The young man gave a cruel sneer then turned his head to follow the finger. He saw the old man, together with a challenging look his face. "Oh!" he said, and gave a visible start, almost of fear. "I suppose that's all right then." He paused, then added harshly, "I don't suppose you've seen that stuttering fool Claudius?"