Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus

by R. W. Peake

I am not sure how long I stood there before I became aware of a scuffling sound. Whirling about while bringing my sword up, I saw the woman, who had come to her feet, my movement causing her to let out a terrified gasp, while trying to pull her ruined clothing about her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, girl,” I said wearily, but I did remember to speak in Greek.

  Still, if she understood me, she gave no sign. Instead, she took a step backward, shaking her head but not speaking, still clutching what was little better than rags around her body. Suddenly needing to sit down, I staggered in her general direction, planning to use one of the crates. Letting out a horrified shriek, she ran to the corner of the room to cower there, whimpering as she crouched there. Ignoring her, I sat down heavily, trying to examine my wounds in the dim light. I had been in the room long enough for my eyes to adjust to what little light there was, but it was probably a good thing that I could not clearly see the wreckage of my hand at that moment. The little finger was now just a stump, throbbing with every beat of my heart, still leaking blood, along with the deep cuts on every other finger. With my good hand, I removed my neckerchief to wrap the wounded one as tightly as I could stand it, letting out a groan of pain. Perhaps it was that sound that drew the girl, but I felt a light touch on my shoulder, almost making me jump out of my skin, which in turn caused her to leap back. After seeing that she was not going to try and cut my throat, I relaxed a bit, and she took a timid step back in my direction.

  “What do you want, girl?” I asked her, to which she shook her head, pointing instead at first my hand, then my side, which I had yet to examine. Realizing that she was offering me help, I told her, “I’m all right. I'll be going to the hospital tent to get patched up, so there’s no need to worry.”

  She did not seem to understand or accept what I said, instead leaning down to peer at the wound along my side, which was visible through the rent in my mail shirt. Moving my arm out of the way, she gently probed the edges of the wound. Despite her soft touch, I winced, letting out a grunt of pain.

  “Careful, girl, I’m not a side of beef that you’re trying to tenderize,” I complained. She shot me an amused look, shaking her head as she did so. “So you do understand me,” I said, while she took a strip of what I supposed had been part of her dress, ripping it into narrower lengths. She still said nothing, but the look she gave me was answer enough. “I told you, I'm not going to hurt you,” I said gently.

  She refused to look at me, instead wrapping a strip around my chest. Seeing that my chest was larger than she had thought, she was forced to tie two pieces together.

  Finally, she said with an accent I could not readily identify, “I know you won’t.”

  Now it was my turn to be amused.

  “And how do you know that?” I asked.

  “Because you would have done so already and now you’re too weak.”

  I was tempted to show her how wrong she was, but the truth was that she was right. Even if I had been inclined, it was highly doubtful that I could have done anything with her. With the wound on my side tightly bound, she stepped away, eyes going back to the floor.

  “Thank you,” I said awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

  “What about him?” she asked suddenly, pointing to the man with the ruined testicles, who appeared to have passed out.

  I looked at him, then gave her a shrug.

  “What about him?” I repeated. “He won’t be doing that anymore. To you or to anyone.”

  “He deserves to die,” she spat with surprising vehemence.

  “Then kill him,” I replied carelessly, not thinking that such a timid young girl would have it in her.

  She surprised me, though, taking a few steps over to where the man was lying, then bending down to pick up his sword. It was clearly too heavy for her to wield effectively, because she was barely able to get the tip off the ground, yet that did not stop her from stabbing down awkwardly into the man’s body. It was not a fatal blow, but it clearly hurt, causing the man to let go of his testicles, screaming horribly. She was not through, however, stabbing him several more times until he stopped screaming, and moving. Nonetheless she kept going, her breath coming in ragged gasps while she continued thrusting the sword into his body. Finally, I reached out, gently taking the sword from her.

  “He’s dead, girl.”

  She began sobbing, her shoulders shaking as she bowed her head, her hair hiding her face. I stood there, not knowing exactly what to do, other than that I needed to get out of there and get to Philipos. The bleeding had been stopped by the makeshift bandages, but I suspected I needed to have the wound in my side cleaned out and stitched up. I also knew that something needed to be done with my hand. I was woozy, the room seeming to shift in front of me, yet something kept me rooted to the spot. It was as if this girl and I had shared something, except I did not know her. She was not very pretty; in fact, she was quite plain, yet there was something about her that sparked some sort of protective urge in me. Despite that, I was not sure what I could do for her, and the rest of this day would be dangerous enough without worrying about her, so I turned to leave.

  “You might want to keep that sword with you,” I said, knowing how awkward I sounded, but I thought it was good advice nonetheless. “The next few watches are going to be very dangerous. If you know a good place to hide . . .”

  “I thought this was a good place,” she said bitterly. “But I was wrong. I don’t know a better one.”

  “That’s why you should keep that sword with you. In case . . .” I did not finish, realizing that she knew better than I did what faced her, because Prixus and his men had just shown her.

  “And if there is more than one? What good will this do?” she tried to wave the sword about, but again could barely lift it, starting a fresh round of tears. “I might as well kill myself now,” she said miserably, then looked me directly in the face.

  Even in the darkness, I could see the anguish and fear, making my decision for me.

  “Come with me,” I commanded her, heading for the door.

  I was so accustomed to being obeyed that I did not even look to see if she was following. It was not until I was at the side doorway that led back out into the alley that I realized she was not behind me. I returned to find her still standing there, and I forced myself to be patient.

  “Girl, I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. Now, you can stay here, and I promise you'll regret it. But if you come with me, I'll make sure that you’re safe, at least until things calm down. You can believe me or not, I don’t really care. I won’t make this offer again.”

  Again, I did not wait to see if she followed me, just headed for the door, but I heard a scuffling step behind me as I reached the doorway. When I stepped out into the alleyway, pausing for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the light, I saw out of the corner of my eye that she was standing next to me. Without saying a word, I headed into the alley.

  The fighting, at least in this part of the town, was over. The bodies of the Moesian dead that had made their stand in the alley had already been searched and looted, while the Legions had moved on. Heading back toward the gate road, I could hear the sounds of the fighting deeper in the town and I knew from experience that with an assault from both sides, those Moesians who had elected to fight were now caught in the jaws of a grinding, relentless beast, from which there was little chance of escape. Some Legionaries were either limping or being helped back out of the town to where the medici had set up the field hospital, and I turned to follow them.

  “Follow me,” I told the girl, who seemed hesitant to leave the town, but after one of the men helping the wounded called to her, making a lurid gesture, she hurried after me.

  Crassus was nowhere in sight so I assumed he had gone deeper into the town, following the 8th. I wondered about Gaius and when we reached the area where the wounded had been laid out on the ground, I took the time to walk among the wounded, searching for his familiar face. Not finding him among the wounded, I
felt a huge sense of relief, but I reminded myself that he could have been among the dead that had yet to be recovered. The girl had stopped at the edge of the area where the wounded had gathered, clearly distressed at the sight of suffering men, so that we were separated by several paces, which I suppose encouraged a group of men who had just carried two seriously wounded men to safety to believe that she was fair game.

  “Hey there, little chicken,” one of them called to the girl, reaching out to grab her by the arm. She shrank away, causing him to laugh and turn to his friends. “She’s shy, boys. Let’s see if we can’t loosen her up some.”

  “She’s with me,” I spoke up.

  They looked at me, clearly irritated at the interruption, but then they saw that it was their Camp Prefect. Their expressions turned sullen and I heard one of them mutter something, though I could not make out the words. My words had stopped the man from grabbing her, yet they did not move along, and I felt my anger starting to rise.

  “Why aren’t you men up where the fighting is?” I asked them, and they shifted nervously about in response.

  The man who had reached for the girl apparently decided to brazen it out, saying with a touch of defiance in his tone, “We were bringing our wounded back to the aid station, Prefect. You wouldn’t want us to let them lie there and bleed to death, would you?”

  “Of course not,” I replied reasonably. “But your duty is done, so you can return to the fighting. I know you wouldn’t want to have it on your conscience that one of your comrades was struck down because you were trying to grab a piece of ass and weren't there to relieve him when the whistle blew.”

  This did not sit well with any of them, but neither could they argue. Giving me a perfunctory salute, they turned to walk back in the direction of the center of the town. I watched them to make sure they kept walking before continuing to the makeshift tent where the physicians were working. It would have been easy to find, both by the sounds of men screaming and the smells of burning flesh as wounds were cauterized. The girl shrank back, clearly not wanting to go into the tent, but my patience was wearing thin.

  “If you want to stay out here by yourself, fine,” I snapped. “But don’t expect me to come rescue you from the next bunch bringing wounded back. They’re going to be upset enough that they're missing out on the chance to loot that I won’t guarantee they aren’t as rough on you as Prixus and his bunch were.”

  That got her moving, and she scurried into the tent behind me. I was working on my last reserves of strength, the thought of fainting in front of men already wounded and suffering mortifying me to no end. The interior of the tent was lit by several lamps, making the air stuffy and close, which did not help me, so I began looking for a place to sit down when I spotted Crassus’ physician bent over a man lying on a cot facedown. I wobbled over in his direction, but before I could get to him, the interior of the tent began to spin and I staggered, sure that I was going to fall. An arm grabbed me around the waist, and I saw with some surprise that it was the girl, straining with all of her might as she grabbed my right arm, putting it across her shoulders for support. Huffing and puffing, we made it the last few paces to where Philipos, now aware of my presence, stood pointing to an empty cot. Collapsing onto it, I muttered a thank you to the girl, despite not being very happy that she had been the one to keep me from shaming myself.

  “I will be with you in a moment,” the physician called to me, and I waved at him, telling him to take his time.

  I wanted to lie back on the cot, but my side ached too much, while my hand hurt even worse. My neckerchief had soaked through with blood and the slightest movement of my fingers was excruciating, but I forced myself to move them just to make sure that they still worked. A wave of sheer exhaustion came over me, yet I managed to remain sitting upright, knowing that to lie back would be too painful. To occupy myself, I watched the physician working on the supine man, and it took a moment to realize that it was none other than the Tribune Claudius. It took another moment for it to register that the physician was hard at work on the buttock region of the haughty Tribune, the sight making me burst out laughing.

  Shooting me a glance of equal parts shared amusement and irritation, the physician said loudly, “The Tribune here has suffered a very painful and serious wound that requires my attention. He took an arrow in . . .”

  He did not finish, instead just pointed down at the Tribune’s ass.

  “He got shot in the ass with an arrow?” I asked, again loud enough for everyone in the tent to hear, even the less seriously wounded snickering.

  The Tribune’s face was turned away, but even from where I was seated, I could see his ear turn bright red, although he said nothing.

  “As I said, it’s a serious wound. It penetrated both, er, sides, so to speak.”

  Now Philipos was struggling to keep his composure and I could not resist the temptation for some mischief. I attribute it to my almost delirious condition from my own wounds.

  “How did you get shot in the ass, Tribune?” I called out to him. “You’re supposed to be facing the enemy, not the other way around.”

  Snickers turned into open laughter, prompting Claudius to turn his head to face me, and the look he gave me was one of pure hatred.

  “We were ambushed,” he said stiffly. “One of the Centurions was too eager and led his Century into an ambush.”

  I should have just let it go, except that his inference that it was a Centurion’s fault irritated me immensely.

  “But, Tribune, I thought you outranked a mere Centurion. After all, you thought you outranked me when we first met and I'm second in command of this army. Shouldn’t you have been in command and kept the Centurion from making such a basic mistake? I mean, since you obviously saw that he was making an error.”

  Claudius looked like he had been slapped, and there was an intake of breath by many of the men. Thankfully, none of them laughed. I knew I was behaving badly; senior officers should never show their petty quarrels in front of the rankers, but I considered this just payback for all of his slights to me.

  “You will pay for that,” Claudius said quietly, staring into my eyes to make sure I knew he meant it, I suppose.

  “Tribune,” I said, suddenly weary. “I've heard men tell me that for a long time. And they were men a lot better than you, and yet I'm still here. I'll try not to lose any sleep tonight.”

  His lips tightened but he made no reply, instead turning his face back away from me, while the physician gave me a reproving shake of his head. Titus, I thought, you just got rid of one enemy, and now you’re making another one. And this is one of those upper-class bastards like Lepidus, and look at the mess he got you into. You deserve what happens to you. The girl had been standing there, not understanding a word, yet somehow knowing that Claudius wished me no good, and I was amused to see her scowling at the back of his head while the physician finished dressing his wound.

  “You will have to lie on your stomach for the next few days,” I overheard Philipos say to Claudius, who mumbled something in response.

  His work with the Tribune done, the Greek walked over to me, sighing as he surveyed the damage.

  “What happened to you this time?”

  I was dreading this question, not from the physician as much as from my friends. Crassus I was not worried about; unless I had completely misread him, he would accept whatever lie I told him as long as he knew that Prixus was no longer a problem. It was Scribonius and Balbus that concerned me, Scribonius in particular, because I had never lied to them before.

  “I was surprised by a couple of Moesians when I was looking for my nephew’s Century,” I answered with the first thing that popped into my head.

  “And her?”

  He inclined his head toward the girl, who was standing next to my cot. I had completely forgotten to account for her.

  “I found her,” I said weakly, knowing that it sounded more like a question than an answer.

  One eyebrow lifted, but he said
no more about it, taking hold of my bandaged hand while I tried not to wince. Carefully unwrapping the makeshift bandage, he revealed my bloody, ravaged appendage. It was the first I had seen it in full light and I could not contain a gasp on seeing the damage. My little finger was gone, bitten off between the first and middle knuckle, and I could clearly see the splintered bone protruding from the torn flesh. Each of my other fingers had a deep gash just above the palm, where I had grasped the Thracian sword of one of Prixus’ men. I was just thankful that it had not been sharp, or I would have had nothing but a stump to wave around. Even so, I could see the gleam of bone showing through the caked blood, and I noticed that my hand seemed to be curled almost in a fist. Despite his gentle touch, the pain was very intense when the physician slowly straightened my fingers. Bending down, he examined the wounds carefully, before turning his attention to my little finger.

  Shaking his head after a moment, he told me, “Prefect, I am afraid that we are going to have to operate on your finger.”

  “Why? What more can be done to it? It’s cut off already.”

  Pointing to the splintered white mass sticking out, he replied, “The bone cannot protrude in that way. You’ll be in constant pain, and every slightest bump you give it will cause you agony even greater. Also, it would never heal properly, and would likely become corrupt. I am about as certain as it is possible to be that you would end up losing your hand, if not more.”

  “What do you have to do?”

  “We have to cut the bone down to the point where I can fold the skin over and cauterize it to allow it to heal.”

  “That sounds extremely painful.” I tried to make a joke of it, but he did not smile.

  “Yes, it will be, but it is the only thing to do.”

  I knew he was right, but my stomach was churning at the thought nonetheless. Turning his attention to my side, he unwrapped that bandage.

  “How did you get this around yourself and tied off?” he asked curiously, and I pointed to the girl.