Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus

by R. W. Peake

  We were less than a week away from the date I had set for our departure back to Siscia, requiring the men of the 13th in particular to put in very long watches to get ready. I tried to be everywhere at once, meaning that I was putting in long watches myself, but I never neglected two important tasks every day: my daily exercises and taking Ocelus for a ride. Scribonius would accompany me on my rides, where we would discuss what had been learned, either by my talking to the men, or from Diocles, which was precious little. Not surprisingly, the one thing I had learned was that morale was terrible in the 13th because it was a Legion ruled by fear and fear alone. I did not get the sense that men respected their Centurions, with one glaring exception, which was Plancus, whose fear of not surviving the campaign had come true. Despite the fact he had been dead for months, his name was still spoken with a respect bordering on reverence, not just by men of the First Cohort, but the entire Legion. My sense was that until his death, there had essentially been two Legions within the 13th, one run by Natalis, and one by Plancus, something that Diocles was able to confirm through his own sources. This explained why Plancus met an untimely end, yet not how, nor did it give me any ideas on what to do about it. Poisoning was the obvious method, yet that was more of a woman’s weapon, but it was certainly not unknown for a man to use it to eliminate a rival. The real question was how to get to the truth; perhaps it sounds odd, but it was moments like these that I missed Balbus the most, since he had the iron in his soul to help me do what had to be done. One day when we were out riding, I broached the subject with Scribonius about the best way to go about getting to the bottom of the matter, albeit in an indirect manner.

  “I wish Balbus were here. He'd say we should just snatch Natalis and put the tongs to him until he talked,” was how I began the conversation.

  It was the first time I had uttered my friend’s name aloud, and while it still caused a pang of grief, it had lessened over the months.

  Scribonius laughed and said, “That’s true. And he'd talk about the whole ball sac thing again.”

  We both chuckled at the memory of our friend’s fascination with this gruesome idea, before Scribonius turned serious.

  “While I agree that would be effective, I’ve never been one to get information by torture when other means would do just as well.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Such as using your brain instead of your muscle. All it takes is a little time and patience.”

  “How much time?”

  “I’m many things, Titus, but I’m not an augur. I don’t know how long it will take. It will take as much time as is needed. It’s not like we’re marching on campaign,” he pointed out.

  That was true, but while I had learned the value of patience over the years, it still did not come naturally.

  “Well, you just talked yourself into being responsible for this investigation,” I told him.

  He did not seem that surprised, so I imagine he had already assumed that.

  “I don’t have anything else to do,” was his only reply, but I could already see his mind working on how he was going to go about conducting this particular task.

  Two days before our scheduled departure date, Diocles, Scribonius, and I met to discuss where matters stood. Scribonius had been consulting what records we did have, taking copious notes that he refused to share with me when I asked.

  “You put me in charge of this, so let me do it my way,” he told me.

  That evening when we met, he did share the manner in which he was approaching his task.

  “As much as we complain about paperwork, we all know that any attempt to manipulate our system leaves some sort of trail. What I’m most interested in is what's missing, not what's there. My hope is that if I can see where those pieces are missing from the whole picture, a pattern will emerge.”

  That sounded like pure Scribonius, and I knew that if anyone could make a whole cloth out of threads that were not there, it would be he, but I was looking for more substantial information, so I turned to Diocles.

  “I suppose my approach is similar to Master Scribonius’, but I'm doing it with what people tell me and not what's written down,” he explained. “I agree that what's not there, or more accurately, what people are not saying is just as informative as what they say.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I tried to hide my impatience; as usual I could not. “But perhaps you could tell me exactly what you’ve learned from what people haven’t told you.”

  “I was getting to that,” Diocles replied defensively. He took a deep breath before plunging ahead.“The most important thing I learned came from one of the junior clerks of the Legion.”

  “Which one?” I interrupted. Somewhat to my surprise, he shook his head.

  “I'm sorry, Master, but I promised the man that I wouldn't divulge his identity. He's one of five of the junior clerks, and that's all I can say.”

  “We’ll have to know his identity if it comes to a Tribunal,” I countered, my own words instantly telling me why Diocles was so loath to divulge the man’s identity, and why the clerk was equally reluctant to be known.

  While clerks are a mix of slaves and freedmen, if he was a slave, then the only way his testimony could be used was if he were tortured. Even a freedman was not necessarily safe if the matter was important enough, and it was not a stretch of the imagination for a freedman to think that any matter involving a Primus Pilus of a Legion would be considered sufficiently important to be put to torture. I could see that Diocles was refusing to budge, so I waved at him to continue with his report.

  “This clerk told me that it's commonly known throughout the 13th Legion that Primus Pilus Natalis has a very powerful sponsor in Rome.”

  Despite this being something I suspected, hearing it confirmed, even partially, was not a pleasant feeling.

  “Octavian?” Scribonius guessed, but Diocles shook his head.

  “Not Caesar, but almost as powerful.”

  “Surely not Agrippa.” I could not fathom that the best general of Rome currently living would see anything worthy in Natalis to act as his patron, and I was relieved when Diocles again shook his head.

  “Maecenas,” Scribonius breathed, Diocles giving a perfunctory nod of his head. He hesitated for a moment, telling me that there was more than just the identity of Natalis’ patron to talk about. Finally, he said, in barely more than a whisper, “The man I talked to wouldn’t give specifics, but he made very broad hints that Natalis and Maecenas had a…special relationship.”

  Scribonius’ eyebrow shot toward the top of his head, mine not far behind as we exchanged a glance. I had only seen Gaius Maecenas a few times, but it only took one look at him to know exactly what his preference was concerning his sexual appetite. The rest of what I knew about him was almost completely rumor and innuendo, but one of those rumors is that he liked to indulge a taste for men in uniform. Reading between the lines, it appeared that Natalis was one of those sweaty, grimy Legionaries that graced Maecenas’ bed.

  “But does that mean that Natalis is protected by Maecenas?” Scribonius asked. “Just because he’s buggering Maecenas doesn’t mean that he's also a client of the man. In fact, I would argue just the opposite. Maecenas is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. I doubt that he'd take the risk of letting Natalis have that kind of leverage over him.”

  “My informant went to great pains to tell me that Natalis has never openly said that. But neither has he denied it, and this man claims that Natalis was confronted about it by another Centurion while we were in Moesia.”

  “Plancus,” I muttered, which Diocles confirmed with a nod, but he was not through.

  “It goes further,” he explained. “Supposedly, this man overheard Plancus tell Natalis that he had proof that whatever relationship Natalis had with Maecenas, it didn't extend to any kind of business relationship, and that if Natalis didn't quit whatever this business was, he would expose him.”

  I could not help letting out a whistle, becaus
e this information all but confirmed that Natalis was guilty of something that he did not want exposed, and it followed that he would be willing to kill to keep his secret safe. However, I did not see how we could pursue this matter legally without exposing Diocles’ source to the light of day, and subjecting him to the harsh treatment that would result from it. I looked at Scribonius, who seemed lost in thought, girding myself to tell Diocles that he would have to go back on his word. Before I could, Scribonius spoke up.

  “Most of the Centurions must be convinced that Natalis is being protected by Maecenas.”

  “It would seem that way,” I admitted.

  “But Plancus said that he had proof that this wasn't the case, and that Natalis was using Maecenas’ name falsely.”

  Again, I agreed, not seeing where Scribonius was heading.

  “What we know of Plancus was that he was no fool,” he continued. “So I think it's safe to assume that in fact Maecenas and Natalis have no relationship, at least as far as client and patron, or Plancus wouldn't have confronted Natalis. I think that means we operate from the same viewpoint.”

  “That makes sense,” I replied. “But it doesn’t bring us any closer to cleaning up the 13th.”

  “Yes it does.” Scribonius smiled at me, clearly pleased with himself.

  “How?”

  “Relieve him of his command, effective immediately,” Scribonius said, and I must confess that I had not seen that coming.

  “I can’t do that,” I gasped out my first reaction, though as usual, Scribonius had thought things through and was already ready for my reaction.

  “Why not? Show me in the regulations where it says that you can't do that very thing.”

  Scribonius had me, and he knew it. I suppose I should have thought of it myself. The position of Camp Prefect was still new, and while Agrippa had been thorough in the explanation of my duties, at that point there was not much written down. This had proven to be both a blessing and a curse; it led to conflicts like the one I had with Tribune Claudius when I first reported to this army, yet it also gave me the freedom to do things that I could not if I had been Primus Pilus. Scribonius had gone straight to the heart of the matter, proposing at least a partial solution by understanding that what the regulations did not say was equally important compared to what they did.

  “I suppose I could then,” I said slowly, trying to think things through. “But then what? Who would I put in his place? If I just move everyone up a slot and promote from within, I'm just as likely to put someone in that spot who at the very least knew what was going on and looked the other way as not. If Plancus was the only one who had the courage to confront Natalis, then I have a bunch of sheep as candidates to take over the 13th.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Scribonius said calmly. “If you relieve Natalis, it will do two things. First, you'll demonstrate that Natalis isn't connected to Maecenas in any way that would prove useful in getting his job back. Like I said earlier, I think it's safe to assume that whatever proof Plancus had was sufficiently strong enough that he felt confident in confronting Natalis. In essence, you're calling his bluff. Second, it will force the other Centurions of the 13th to declare themselves in one way or another. The cream will rise to the top without a Primus Pilus, and you'll see for yourself who the real leaders are and who aren’t.”

  I absorbed all that Scribonius had said, and I could see there was much sense in it. However, it was all well and good to discuss this matter in the comfort and security of the Praetorium; even though I agreed that it was highly unlikely Natalis was attached to Maecenas in a dangerous way, I was still cautious. I believe I had good reason, given my experiences with men like Maecenas. They were dangerous adversaries to have, which I had learned the hard way, meaning that now I was somewhat timid about the idea of taking the risk, however small it may have been, of running afoul of Maecenas.

  “I’ll think about it,” I finally said, and I could see that Scribonius was not pleased.

  “You better hurry and make a decision, because if you decide to go through with it and relieve him, it should be before we start the march and not after.”

  “Let’s say I do it,” I told Scribonius. “It’s one thing to relieve him; it’s another thing entirely to make sure he stays that way. I can see your point about not wanting to do it on the march. We don’t want him lurking about, and at this point, I don’t have enough to banish him from the presence of the army. Here I can put him on a ship and send him wherever I please, but it will be extremely damaging to me if I relieve him, only to have him come popping back up because I couldn’t find something that would stick to him that is serious enough.”

  “Leave that to me,” Scribonius said firmly. “I'll take care of that part of it.”

  It was hard to get any sleep that night, since I lay tossing and turning, trying to decide what to do. I continually reminded myself that the Titus Pullus of even ten years before would have not hesitated for a moment. In the next instant, I would chide myself for that thought, telling my imaginary adversary in my head that I had simply learned the hard way the value of prudence. Back and forth, I went all night, until I finally got up to sit at my desk, trying to think. At last, I reached a decision, and that feeling of relief that comes when you have set a course allowed me to get a bit more sleep. The next morning, before speaking to either Scribonius or Diocles about the Natalis matter, I left for the Praetorium while sending a runner to request that Claudius come to meet with me. I had decided to hedge my bet, and that was with Claudius. It also meant that my act of relieving Natalis would be delayed until after we arrived in Siscia, yet that could not be helped, given what I was going to ask Claudius to do. He arrived not long after, and if he was upset at being summoned, he hid it well. While we were certainly not friends; someone of Claudius’ status could never be a true friend to a member of the lower classes like me, we were friendly and had established the type of bond that comes from one man saving the other’s life. In some way, we would be tied together for the rest of our lives, so I think we both internally decided to make the best of it.

  “Yes, Prefect? You asked for me?” His salute was rendered perfectly, without insolence, nor given grudgingly like it had been in the past.

  “Yes, Tribune, I did. Please, have a seat.”

  It was early for wine; instead, I offered him water, telling one of the early clerks to bring us some bread and honey to break our fast. While we waited, we chatted about the coming march, and what I expected of him concerning his duties. Once we were served, I decided to plunge ahead.

  “The reason I asked you here is about a rather delicate matter,” I began, predictably piquing his interest. Indicating for me to continue, he sat watching me intently while I continued.

  “A situation has come to my attention concerning the 13th Legion. There is major misconduct and abuse of the position of Primus Pilus going on that I must take action on. Before I do, however, I need to gather more information, and that's where you come in.”

  He looked confused, but said nothing, causing my heart to sink.

  “The men of the 13th, and a number of Centurions, though I don’t know exactly how many, have been given the very strong impression that Primus Pilus Natalis is being protected and is in effect working for someone very close to Caesar. He's been using that….impression, shall we say, to extort money from the men of his Legion. What I need to find out, before I make any move, is if by some chance Primus Pilus Natalis is telling the truth, which I seriously doubt. This is something that you have an ability to find out, through your father, and that's what I'm asking of you. Will you please write to your father to determine if Primus Pilus Natalis is indeed a client of Gaius Maecenas?”

  I sat back, waiting for Claudius to answer, who in turn was staring back at me with a puzzled expression, saying nothing for several moments. Does he not understand what I am asking? I wondered. I opened my mouth to repeat myself, but he held up a hand.

  “Forgive me, Pre
fect, but I must confess that I'm confused. I had thought that my father’s letter spelled matters out very clearly.”

  It felt as if my blood froze in my body.

  “Letter?”

  My mind raced in an attempt to understand what the Tribune was telling me. After a moment, it fell into place. “You mean the letter that was sent to you on behalf of Pilus Posterior Plancus?”

  He looked relieved that I now understood him and he nodded.

  “Exactly. That letter. I received it shortly before we left Siscia, but I didn't get around to reading it before I gave it to Pilus Posterior Plancus until we had been on the march for a while.”

  “Humor me, Tribune. What did the letter say?”

  “That your suspicions are correct. The Primus Pilus has been using Gaius Maecenas’ name in a fraudulent manner. They have an acquaintance, that's true, but Natalis isn't a client of Maecenas, nor do they have any other kind of relationship.”

  Now that this had been confirmed, I had to decide exactly how to proceed, except I was not quite through with the Tribune, sure there was something missing from his story.

  “Tribune, what exactly happened after that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You delivered the letter to Plancus?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long after you delivered the letter to Plancus did he die?”