Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus

by R. W. Peake

  He thought for a moment, then replied, “Perhaps two weeks later.”

  “And you didn’t think that was suspicious?” I asked, for this is what was bothering me the most.

  “Prefect, my task was to make sure that Pilus Posterior Plancus received the letter. What happened after that was really no concern of mine. Besides, Plancus came to me about a week after I gave him the letter and told me that everything had been settled.”

  “What?”

  I was astonished, feeling almost dizzy from the twists and turns this matter was taking.

  Claudius gave a small frown as he remembered the events.

  “I will admit it was strange,” he said. “At least the circumstances of his visit.”

  I could not stop from heaving a sigh, thinking what could be any stranger than what I had already learned?

  “And what was it about the circumstances that were unusual?”

  “The fact that he came shortly after I had retired, when the tent was dark. I supposed that it was all part of some ruse on his part to keep from being detected. Whatever the reason, he stood outside my quarters, said that he didn't want to disturb me, then told me that he and his Primus Pilus had come to an understanding.”

  He gave a shrug, looking away, clearly not wanting to look me in the eye as he continued.

  “I just figured that he had used the letter as leverage to get involved in whatever Natalis had going.”

  “It was a matter for the rankers,” I offered, and he flashed me a guilty look, but nodded his head. His frown deepened as apparently something else occurred to him.

  “I do remember one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “While it sounded like Plancus, his voice was . . . different. I just put it down to him having a cold. Then, when he died, I assumed that it was from his illness.”

  “He wasn’t ill when he died,” I told Claudius, who did not look altogether surprised that he had been fooled. “It was very sudden, supposedly of a rupture.”

  He looked distinctly uncomfortable now, but I was not through.

  “Tribune, didn't you think it odd that Pilus Posterior Plancus should suddenly die when there was some sort of dispute going on between him and his Primus Pilus?”

  It was clear that he had been expecting the question, and equally clear that he did not like it.

  “Truthfully speaking, Prefect, I never gave it much thought,” he said stiffly. Seeing my expression, he softened a bit. “I suppose I was preoccupied with my own troubles at that point and was not paying much attention to anything else. If you remember, that was before . . .” His voice trailed off, but he did not need to finish.

  That was before he had been sure he was going to die and had been saved, completely turning his ordered world upside down. I had no desire to rub the Tribune’s nose in it, another sign that I had mellowed with age, and I spoke in a more conciliatory tone.

  “That's perfectly understandable, Tribune, and please understand that I don't hold you at fault in any way.” I was struck by a sudden idea, making me decide to apply just a bit of pressure.

  “However,” I continued, and his expression quickly became guarded again. “We are still in a bad spot. A spot that probably should have been addressed some time ago.”

  I drummed my fingers on the desk as if thinking before asking the question that had come to me.

  “Tribune, can I ask a favor of you? To help clean this mess up?”

  “Perhaps,” he said cautiously, not sure what he had gotten into.

  I explained what I had in mind, and as he listened, I saw him relax a bit. When I had finished, he simply said, “Yes, I can do that.”

  We worked out the details. After seeing him out, I returned to the larger task of making last-minute preparations for the 13th to march without a Primus Pilus.

  Later that day, I met again with Scribonius and Diocles, and the most pressing question on my mind was for Scribonius.

  “You said you'dd have what I needed in time to relieve Natalis before we left. I plan on making my move in the morning. Will you be ready?”

  I had to suppress a smile at the sight of my friend, with his dark circles under his eyes and ink-stained fingers, looking like one of the clerks. He was clearly in a sour mood, seemingly about to make a sharp retort before simply nodding his head.

  Turning to Diocles, I told him, “If things go according to my plan, your friend’s testimony won't be needed, but I want him detained anyway, just in the event that things don't go well.”

  Diocles was unhappy, but I was adamant that my order be carried out, and I knew that he would comply despite his feelings. I knew I could trust these two implicitly, and there was only one other person involved. While I was not completely sure about Claudius, he had nothing to gain by warning Natalis, and I do not know what Natalis could have done if he had been warned, other than to disappear. That would have actually made my life much easier, but I did not want this to have a hint of impropriety, or be personal in any way. As far as I was concerned, in my functions as Camp Prefect and de facto commander of the army, I had become aware of activity that was strictly against not only army regulations, but Roman law. I was acting in the best interests of Rome by relieving Natalis. Because of this new information, my original motivation for removing Natalis because he was not a good Primus Pilus had become secondary. I went to bed that night strangely calm, perhaps because I knew that I had done all I could do, and that Scribonius would not fail me. The only question in my mind was Claudius, but there was nothing I could do about it. I fell asleep quickly, waking the next morning ready for what was coming and wondering if Natalis had any idea that his world was about to cave in on him. While I dressed, the thought came that I was about to end a man’s career, perhaps causing Natalis to do something desperate, making it prudent to have some of the Evocati there as guards, but I quickly dismissed the idea. The thought of needing to be protected from anyone stuck in my throat; the only time I had done so was when Cleopatra was trying to kill Miriam and me, and I judged her to be far more dangerous than Natalis could ever be. I did strap on my Gallic sword, just in case, then headed to the Praetorium, where everything would take place according to the plan. Diocles accompanied me, with Scribonius meeting us there, along with the materials he had prepared, which I took time to examine before the next phase of the plan. Claudius also arrived, moving to the spot I designated, and Diocles and Scribonius left the office; Diocles to summon Natalis, Scribonius to make himself scarce, although I knew that he would be nearby somewhere. With nothing left to do but wait, I found that I had a similar feeling that I experienced before the start of a battle, where everything seemed to be exaggerated; colors were brighter, the sound of my breathing was louder in my ears than normal. I clenched and unclenched my hand, a habit that I had developed over the years, flexing my fingers in the event that I needed to use my sword. It seemed like a full watch before I heard the outer door open, and I took a deep breath to calm myself, turning my face into the official mask I used when I was destroying a man’s career. The inner door opened, with Diocles entering first.

  “Primus Pilus Natalis is here, Prefect,” he said formally.

  “Very well,” I answered. “I will be with him in a moment.”

  While I wanted Natalis to get here to the Praetorium unaware that there was a trap waiting, once he was here I wanted him unsettled, so I used the old trick of making a man await a fate that was uncertain. I took the time to check Scribonius’ paperwork again, making a couple notes on a tablet to refer to when I was talking to Natalis. Once I determined that enough time had elapsed, I called Diocles to bring Natalis in. The Primus Pilus of the 13th marched in, vitus under his arm in the proper position, coming to intente precisely centered on my desk, rendering a perfect salute, which I did not return. Instead, I stared at him, my face composed into a frown, borrowing the numen from my long-departed Primus Pilus Gaius Crastinus, the invisible spirit that seemed to always wave a hot, sm
elly turd under his nose. Now it was under mine as I looked him up and down while he held the salute. Finally realizing that I was not going to return it, he dropped his arm uncertainly while staying at intente.

  “Primus Pilus Natalis reporting as ordered, Prefect.”

  His tone betrayed his confusion, but he kept his eyes on a spot above my head, just as we had all been taught. Finally, I began speaking, making sure that my tone betrayed not the slightest hint of compassion or warmth, easy to do considering how I felt about the man.

  “Primus Pilus Natalis, I am officially informing you that you are being relieved of your command of the 13th Legion, effective immediately.”

  Natalis’ eyes shot open wide, as if I had run him through, taking a staggering step back.

  “For what cause?” he managed to gasp.

  “For gross abuse of your position as Primus Pilus in the extortion of the men of the 13th Legion. While the rate of men going absent is extremely high; not only is it the highest in the Army of Pannonia, but the highest I have ever seen, the number of men actually punished is very, very small. You and a number of your Centurions are involved,” this was a guess on my part, but I was absolutely sure that I was right, “and you have been enriching yourselves off the backs of your men. There is no greater abuse of trust than what is being perpetrated here, and for that reason, I am relieving you, pending a Tribunal that will determine your punishment.”

  All color had escaped from his face, and for a moment I was sure that he would faint dead away, tottering on his feet, his mouth working open and shut while he tried to frame a response.

  “This . . . this is absolutely untrue,” he finally managed. “I don't know what you're talking about, Prefect. I swear it on Jupiter’s Stone.”

  “Well then, Primus Pilus,” I said reasonably. “If you are innocent, then it's even worse, because this extortion scheme is most certainly going on right under your nose. Either way, that is cause for immediate relief of your position.”

  He had fallen neatly into that trap, and I could see his mind working furiously about what to say next.

  “What proof do you have of these charges?” he asked finally. I fought the urge to smile.

  The report that Scribonius had compiled was damning in its detail. I proceeded to unroll the scroll on which he had written his findings, using vellum, both of us knowing it would have an impact just from its appearance. It is only on official documents of great import that vellum is used, and I could see Natalis’ eyes drawn to it, beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead as I began to read from the document. Incidents of absence were meticulously recorded, then crosschecked against actual punishments, yet Scribonius did not stop there. Somehow, he had managed to obtain the records of the Legion bank account, enabling him to provide the actual deductions taken from men’s accounts very close to the dates where they had been reported absent. What had become clear was that Natalis and his cronies had established a variable scale, where longer absences that merited harsher punishment cost more for men to buy themselves out of trouble. As I recounted the details of this corruption, there was something that continued to bother me, which I did not mention at that moment, but I will explain here. Natalis had not taken any precautions to cover his tracks; all it took was a cursory examination, like Diocles and Scribonius had done, to spot a troubling pattern. Whereas it made sense that he operated more or less in the open from the perspective of the rankers, reinforcing their belief that he was protected by someone close to Octavian, I could not see that it made any sense to do so when he clearly had no such protection. At that moment, I summarized Scribonius’ report, just providing enough detail to let Natalis know that he was well and truly fucked. Once I had finished, I looked at him with a lifted eyebrow, knowing that something was coming and suspecting what it was.

  “Prefect, I have only the utmost respect for you, so I believe that I should warn you that you are dealing in matters that you have no business meddling in.”

  There it is, I thought. The beginning of the threats, but I pretended not to know what he was going to say.

  “Oh? Why is that, Primus Pilus?”

  “Believe me, I do not mean this as a threat,” he lied, “but I think it's only fair that you know that I have a special relationship with someone very close to Caesar, and that whatever I do, and I'm not saying that I've done anything wrong, I do under the protection of this man.”

  He tried to sound ominous, and I pretended that I was concerned.

  “Would you care to elaborate?” I asked, as if I was actually interested.

  I do not believe he was expecting that, and he stammered a bit, saying, “Well, as I said, I am a . . . friend of someone who's as close to Caesar as any man. While these things you're accusing me of aren't true, even if they were, anything I'm doing I do with the full knowledge and approval of this person.”

  “And who might that person be?” I asked pleasantly. “Prefect, I'm sure you understand that this is a delicate situation,” Natalis said evasively. “And I would prefer not to actually name this man, but I swear to you on my honor as a Centurion of Rome that he is very important and very highly placed.”

  “I can hardly be expected to be quaking in fear if I don’t know who I should be afraid of,” I replied.

  Again, he had been outmaneuvered and he knew it. He could see that I was not going to back off with such a vague threat, and I was giving him no choice but to up the stakes. I saw his chest rise from taking a deep breath, and I could just imagine what was going through his mind as he tried to decide what to do. However, his career was at stake, and he realized that saying nothing would have no chance of success at scaring me off.

  “Gaius Maecenas is the man that I'm referring to, Prefect. I assume you're familiar with him and his relationship with Caesar,” he said, trying to sound calm and unruffled.

  “Yes, I believe I have heard of him,” I said dryly. I rubbed my chin, pretending that I was thinking about what to do next.

  “Perhaps I was a bit hasty,” I said. I know I was being cruel, but I looked at Natalis the same that I would at one of the leeches that infest the swamp. He was sucking the blood from his men, and creatures like that are not deserving of any pity. I saw a look of hope flit across his face, nodding his head in clear approval of my wavering.

  “It’s understandable, Prefect.” I could almost feel the oil oozing out of him. “I admit that it does look suspicious, but I assure you that there is nothing going on that . . .”

  I waved at him, interrupting him. “Yes, yes. I know, you're doing whatever it is that you’re not doing under the protection of Gaius Maecenas. I don’t suppose you have any proof of this relationship, do you?” I asked suddenly, catching him off guard like I had hoped.

  “Proof? Er, I’m not sure what kind of proof you're looking for, Prefect.”

  “Oh, something that would provide positive proof of this special relationship. Perhaps a token with Maecenas’ seal.” I snapped my fingers, pretending something had just occurred to me. “Or a letter from Maecenas to you. That’s what would be best, at least for you. Yes, that’s it. A letter. Do you have something like that?”

  “A letter?” he asked cautiously.

  “Yes. A letter like the one that was sent to Pilus Posterior Plancus before his death, where a man of impeccable standing and objectivity approached Gaius Maecenas himself to ask about this supposed relationship and was told by Maecenas himself that no such relationship existed.” My voice had turned hard now.

  I stared directly at Natalis, giving him a look that I had used on other men who had been in similar trouble, some of whom had ended up dead. Just as quickly as Natalis thought he had regained his footing, he found himself on shifting ground again, a clear look of panic flashing through his eyes, and he licked his lips, something I have learned is a sure sign that a man is under pressure. But I must give him credit; he recovered quickly, a look that struck me as sly coming over his face.

  “I don’t know
what you're talking about, Prefect,” he replied. “Perhaps if you could show me this letter you're talking about?” he asked innocently, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitch.

  “No, I can’t,” I admitted. “The letter has been lost somehow. And of course, Pilus Posterior Plancus is dead as well, so he can’t verify that he received the letter.”

  “Yes, his death was a great blow to the 13th.” Natalis tried to look mournful, yet was singularly unsuccessful. “So, if there is no letter, then there's no way to prove this claim, is there?”

  “No,” I said again, drawing it out some more. I said nothing for several moments, both of us staring at each other for a long while.

  “But, I have something almost as good,” I continued, enjoying the moment.

  I turned to where Claudius had been waiting behind the wooden screen that was used to give the clerks some privacy, calling to him. He stepped from behind the screen, but my eyes at that moment were fastened on Natalis, and it was a supremely satisfying moment to see the look of shock and dismay.

  “You know the Tribune, of course. As I'm equally sure that you know that the man I mentioned who approached Maecenas was the Tribune’s own father. Tribune,” I turned to Claudius, “would you please describe the contents of that letter?”

  “Yes, Prefect,” Claudius answered.

  He went on to give the details of what was contained in the letter, and I do not know if he embellished it, but he was extremely thorough. I kept my eyes on Natalis, who I thought for a moment would collapse upon seeing his last hope vanish. But there was something else in his eyes as he stared at Claudius, completely oblivious to my examination, something that I could not immediately place. When Claudius was finished, I spoke up.

  “Citizen Natalis, do you have anything to say?” Before he could say anything, I held up my hand to finish. “If you do, you should know that the evidence is overwhelming, and that your fate is decided.”

  “You can’t do this,” he protested, his voice desperate. “You don’t have the authority to relieve me!”