Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus

by R. W. Peake

  “I am the de facto commander of this army, and I was appointed by Caesar to fill this post. I assure you that I have the authority and the right to do exactly what I am doing.”

  I stood now, and I was not subtle about putting my hand on the hilt of my sword, finishing the official part of my duties by saying, “You are hereby dismissed with dishonor from the Legions of Rome. You are not entitled to a pension, nor any lands that may have been assigned to you as part of your retirement. You will not be allowed to take your savings from your Legion bank account, as they are hereby confiscated to compensate for the damages done by your actions. You are to be escorted out of camp by the provosts, and I have arranged passage for you on the first ship out of Thessalonica. If you show your face around the army, you will be executed on sight. Do you understand me?”

  Natalis was shaking all over, all color gone from his face, yet when he spoke, there was just as much rage as fear in his voice.

  “This is an outrage! This is not justice!” he shouted at me. “Nothing I've done is worthy of this harsh a punishment! And even if I did do what you charge me with, it's not something that hasn’t been done before by countless Primi Pili!

  “Not in my Legion,” I said coldly. “And not in this army.”

  “Prefect, I will not accept this punishment! I demand a Tribunal, as is my right under Roman law and custom! I still maintain you do not have the right to do this, and I will appeal to the highest authority in Rome . . .”

  “I could have you crucified!” I roared at the top of my lungs.

  I could almost feel the walls shake, and to my satisfaction, Natalis reeled a step backward. Even Claudius looked shaken, and I was not yelling at him.

  “You are the worst Primus Pilus I have seen in all the time I have been in the Legions.” I lowered my voice, but only a fraction. “The 13th is the worst Legion in the Army of Pannonia, and I'd be willing to wager that it's the worst in the entire Roman army. And while there's no way to absolutely prove it, I know that you're responsible for the death of Pilus Posterior Plancus. Consider yourself lucky that you don't join him in the afterlife so that he can take his vengeance on you there. Know this, Natalis,” I pressed, seeing the kill and going for it. “If you go forward with your demand for a Tribunal, I will do everything in my power, fair and unfair, to see that you are crucified, and that your legs not be broken.”

  Natalis held his hands out in my direction in a beseeching manner, yet there was no mercy to be had from me. Seeing this, he turned to glare at Claudius, the hatred so palpable that it seemed to make his face glow. Then he spoke, making matters instantly more complicated.

  “You!” he hissed. “You’re just going to stand there and let this happen? We had a deal!”

  I turned just in time to catch Claudius’ reaction, the look on his face making my heart start hammering as I realized that I had missed something.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Claudius said stiffly. “You’re just trying to bring anyone down with you that you can.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Natalis shrieked, and it looked very much like he was going to try to strike the Tribune, prompting me to draw my sword.

  The rasp of it when the blade left the scabbard was very loud in the room, bringing Natalis back to his senses, but he still glared at Claudius.

  Finally, he turned to me, saying in a shaking voice, “Very well, I waive my right to a Tribunal and accept the punishment. Prefect, since, as you say, my fate is sealed, I want to tell you everything about what has been going on. Which that man there,” he pointed at Claudius, “knew about and was a part of.”

  “You lie,” Claudius shouted, his fists balled up in fury, shaking one at Natalis.

  My mind was reeling as I tried to determine the best course of action.

  “I am not lying, and you know it, you faithless cocksucker,” Natalis shouted, whereupon Claudius began hurling insults.

  The noise from both men was making it impossible to think, and finally I had to intervene.

  “Enough!” I bellowed, gratified that at least both men immediately ceased their shouting.

  I sighed deeply, rubbing my face while I continued to think. Finally, I called Diocles, who had been waiting outside, no doubt listening to every word by the expression on his face when he entered.

  “Call the provosts to escort Citizen Natalis to his quarters and keep him confined there until I call for him again.”

  I turned to Natalis.

  “I assume that your baggage is already packed for the march, but it will be searched to make sure that you're not taking any of the money that's to be confiscated. However, on reflection, I have decided that you will be allowed to take the sum of one thousand sesterces with you to help you start on a new life, far away from the Legions of Rome.”

  Natalis opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of it, instead simply giving a curt nod before turning to follow Diocles out of the office, where two provosts were waiting. The moment he left, I sheathed my sword, turning to Claudius, who was standing looking at me uncertainly.

  “I think we need to talk, Tribune,” I said quietly, motioning him to take a seat. I took my own, prepared to hear the rest of the story.

  “I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight,” Claudius told me as soon as we began talking. “Like I told you, it was in that time before, well you know. Before,” he said meaningfully. The words seemed to come pouring out of the Tribune, and I got the feeling that this had been a burden on him that he wanted lifted from his soul.

  “So when Plancus came to me and told me of his suspicions, and asked for my help, I agreed to do so, but not for the right reasons.”

  At that point, he asked for some water, saying his throat was dry, and I had Diocles bring a pitcher. He drank a full cup before continuing, but his voice was still hoarse from some emotion. Claudius had been looking away from me. Now he turned to look me directly in the eye, his gaze not wavering as he continued, and given what he said, I had to respect him for doing so.

  “I decided that I'd use this dispute between Plancus and Natalis to exact vengeance on you and Marcus Crassus. That's why there are two letters, not one.”

  This was indeed a day for surprises, and not good ones. I sat back, trying to remain impassive while Crassus continued.

  “I had my father, actually my father’s chief scribe who takes dictation from my father and has done so for so long that people assume that a document supposedly written by my father is actually written by Apollodorus, write a letter. That's the scribe’s name,” he added unnecessarily. “I offered Apollodorus a very attractive sum, along with the promise of manumission immediately upon my father’s death to write these two letters. One is the letter that you know about, where my father supposedly states that Gaius Maecenas and Natalis have no relationship, and that's the one I gave Plancus. However, behind Plancus’ back, I made a deal with Natalis where I told him that once this came to light and Plancus denounced him publicly, that I would produce the second letter, which told a very different story. I left it up to Natalis to make sure that the first letter disappeared somehow.”

  “So you knew that Natalis was going to kill Plancus?” I asked, not seeing any way that Claudius could have not realized that Plancus’ life was in danger.

  “No, that I did not know,” Claudius said adamantly. “Because I thought that Natalis was smarter than he turned out to be. What I thought would happen was that he would figure out a way to get the letter, and then when Plancus tried to denounce Natalis, Natalis would produce this second letter saying the exact opposite of what Plancus was claiming, and that would be enough to ruin Plancus, or at least so he thought since he did not know the true contents of the second letter. Natalis and Plancus hated each other, and I learned that there was bad blood between the both of them that went back a long way. It wasn’t until after Plancus died that I realized how deeply it ran. Natalis wasn’t content to just ruin Plancus’ career, he wa
nted him dead.”

  What Claudius was saying made sense, and I could easily see the Tribune involved in such a thing, at least the Tribune that I knew before I saved his life. But there was still something I did not quite understand, and I asked him, “So how was this going to hurt me and Crassus exactly? I mean, other than being embarrassing to us that all of this was going on without our knowledge?”

  Now Claudius looked away, clearly uncomfortable, not answering for several moments. Finally, instead of speaking, he reached inside his tunic, producing a scroll that he leaned forward to place on my desk.

  “Read that, and I think you'll understand,” he said quietly, our eyes meeting briefly before he turned them downward.

  Unrolling the scroll, I squinted at the script, which was written in the old style, without the dots over the ends of the words that Caesar used, making it difficult to follow. Pulling the lamp closer, I began plodding through, feeling my chest tighten while I read the words. It began in the same manner of the first letter that Claudius had described, which I now realized he had known word for word because he had been the original author, while this Apollodorus had simply transcribed his words. Where it differed from the first letter was that it stated in no uncertain terms that while Gaius Maecenas and Natalis did not have any kind of business relationship, there was in fact such an arrangement, but it was between Marcus Crassus, me and Natalis, where we were supposedly sharing in the profits from the scheme that Natalis was operating. It was precisely worded, and very detailed, even going into the percentages that Crassus and I were receiving from Natalis in exchange for looking the other way. The supposed author of the letter claimed that he learned of the scheme by bribing one of Crassus’ slaves back in Rome, who was keeping the accounts in a ledger safely tucked away far from the army. Reading further, I realized that this was all too plausible, and would be easily believed, especially by men who had no love for either Marcus Crassus or me. When I was finished, I sat back in astonishment, looking at the unhappy Tribune long and hard. I was awash in waves of conflicting emotions; part of me wanted to run Claudius through for even thinking of trying to destroy Crassus and me, while another part of me respected his courage for sitting in front of me to make such a confession. I found myself rubbing my face again, for the second time in a short period trying to decide what to do. There was one last piece that I did not understand after reading this through, and I decided before I made any decision I should at least fully understand the whole story.

  “One thing I don’t quite understand is how this helps Natalis,” I said to Claudius, holding the letter up. “It says nothing about this relationship with Maecenas that he’s been using to keep his men in line and paying up. In fact, he'd be as destroyed as Crassus and I.”

  “That’s because he didn’t know what the letter really said,” Claudius explained. “He never saw it; he just relied on what I told him it said. That’s why he said we had a deal. What he didn’t know was that he was just as fucked as you and Crassus would have been.”

  “Why destroy Natalis along with us?” I asked curiously. “Had he done something to you as well?”

  “No, not really,” he shrugged, suddenly finding his fingernails worthy of study. “I suppose I could say that part of me despised him for what he was doing to his men, but that would be a lie. The fact is, I didn’t care enough about Natalis to worry about what happened to him.”

  He looked up at me, and I was surprised to see the glint of tears in his eyes.

  “The truth is, Prefect, I am not a good man, in any sense of the word. Being exposed to men like you and Marcus Crassus made me ashamed of what I was, and am. But I vowed to Jupiter Optimus Maximus and to my ancestral gods after you saved me that I would try to be a better man. That's why I never used that letter, and I'm asking you now to destroy it in my presence, so that I'm never tempted in a moment of anger and weakness to try and use it to harm you or anyone.”

  Well, well, I thought. Perhaps the gods are listening after all. I studied Claudius’ face carefully, but I could see no hint of guile in his eyes, only the sincere desire to make amends and to do what he said in trying to be a better man. Without saying a word, I pulled the lamp closer, lifting the scroll just above the flame. It took a moment to catch, then we both watched it burn down to the wooden rolls, destroying the evidence that Claudius would have used to destroy me. Once it was finished, the Tribune looked at me, and I saw him swallow hard before he spoke.

  “I imagine that you want to place me under arrest now,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “I waive my right to a Tribunal, and will accept any punishment you deem is appropriate for my treachery.”

  At that moment, I was proud of Tribune Claudius, but I would not let my face show any emotion.

  “Tribune, I'm going to ask you, on your honor as an officer of Rome, to confine yourself to your quarters while I decide what to do. Will you give me your word that you won't try to leave the camp for any reason?”

  “Yes, Prefect, I swear to you on my honor I will stay in my quarters.”

  With that, I dismissed Claudius, who walked out on wobbly legs, but with his back straight and head up. The moment he left, I called for Diocles.

  “Go get Scribonius,” I said grimly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “So, what do I do?” I asked the two of them, after I had explained everything, leaving nothing out. Diocles did not hesitate.

  “He has to be punished for trying to betray you,” he said instantly. “He should be sent packing immediately, with a letter of censure written in your own hand to be put in his permanent record.”

  A letter of censure, for a military Tribune, written by his commanding officer, was the punishment just short of a full Tribunal, and in many ways was more damning than an actual trial. With a Tribunal there was always a chance, however slight, of an acquittal, either on the merits or because the accused Tribune was wealthy enough to find the price for the members of the panel. A letter of censure, however, was essentially a finding of fault in the Tribune’s conduct or performance of his duties, but gave the accused no chance of refuting the charges. Despite the fact it did not call for any punishment in itself, a man with a letter of censure in his record was essentially finished in public life, his journey on the cursus honorum done before it really got started. This was what Diocles proposing, and he was adamant that I take this course.

  Scribonius had been listening, a frown plastered on his face, telling me that he did not agree. Once Diocles was finished, I turned to Scribonius.

  “Well?”

  “I say you do nothing,” he said after a pause.

  “Nothing?” Diocles exclaimed, looking at Scribonius as if horns had suddenly sprouted from his forehead. “How can you say that? He tried to destroy Master Titus! That can’t go unpunished! I thought you of all people would see that,” he finished crossly.

  I must admit that I was amused at the fire my little Greek was showing, and touched as well that he would show such a fierce devotion. It was not the normal way in which slaves talked to men like Scribonius, but my friend remained placid, listening to Diocles with a similarly indulgent expression.

  “What I see, my little pederast, is that for the first time since Gaius Julius Caesar was alive, Titus Pullus has a chance at having a true friend in a high place.”

  I turned to Scribonius, surprised at his words. Seeing me about to speak, he held up his hand.

  “Hear me out, Titus. First, let me ask you this. Do you believe that this change we have both seen in the Tribune is heartfelt and genuine?”

  I considered for a moment, then nodded.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “So do I,” Scribonius agreed. I heard Diocles give a snort, but he said nothing. Ignoring our lone dissenter, Scribonius continued.

  “And I think that he is genuinely remorseful about the part he played in this plot. And I also think he'll be eternally in your debt, more than he already is, if you do nothing about this. Think about it
this way; you'll have saved not only his life, but his career. How much more of a hold could you have over a man, especially one as ambitious and well-connected as Claudius?”

  I looked over to Diocles to see how he would rebut this, and while he opened his mouth, after a moment he shut it, shaking his head as he did so.

  “He’s right,” he muttered. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Scribonius said with a smile, “because you’re a Greek. You people don’t understand things like honor and repaying a debt.”

  “I know that the next time someone wants help translating a passage from one of his books, he’s on his own,” Diocles shot back.

  “I’ll try to get by,” Scribonius said dryly, before turning his attention back to me.

  “So, what will it be, Prefect?”

  After what Scribonius had said, I did not see how I could go any other way.

  “It looks like I have a new friend,” I said with a grin. “And hopefully one that will prove profitable.”

  With that decided, Diocles asked, “What about Natalis? Aren’t you worried that he will be telling everyone who will listen that he was double-crossed by Claudius?”

  I considered for a moment.

  “He won’t have any proof. It will just be the ramblings of a disgraced Centurion.”

  “But keep in mind that while you’re gaining a friend, you also have a new enemy for life. Natalis doesn’t impress me much, but he will be desperate,” Scribonius warned. “And desperate men will do all sorts of stupid things.”

  That was sound advice; I promised that I would keep my eyes open, and when I escorted Natalis down to the wharves to take ship, I would be on my guard. Then, I turned to Diocles.

  “Go fetch the Tribune. We have some matters to discuss.”

  Diocles returned with Claudius, wearing a wary expression on his face as he rendered a salute. I told Diocles to leave us, but not before he brought some wine. I wanted this to end in a convivial fashion, but first I wanted to make an impression on the Tribune. While Diocles went to fetch the wine, Falernian from my private stock meaning he had to go to my quarters, I took the time to eye Claudius coldly for several moments. Finally, I spoke, making Claudius start a little at the sound of my voice.