SPQR VI: Nobody Loves a Centurion

by John Maddox Roberts

  “It is done! Let no man speak that accursed name! Soldiers, you have witnessed justice. Return to your duties.” Instantly, the tubas and cornicens roared and the cohorts marched from the forum, smiling broadly. It was a happy army once more. Gauls and Germans out there by the horde, and they were happy.

  “Decius Caecilius,” Caesar said as we walked back toward the big tent, “you have one hour to bathe, shave, and get back in uniform. Then I want to hear your detailed report.” I suppose I should have been grateful that he allowed me even that long.

  An hour later, shaved, barbered, dressed in my battle gear but still feeling somewhat ragged, I reported to the praetorium and went over the events since Caesar’s departure several times. Caesar asked frequent, pointed questions, his lawyer’s acuity ferreting out facts even I had overlooked. When he was satisfied with my report, we got out the infamous chest and, to my great sadness, Caesar made note of every deed and every bar of gold, and double-checked it all against my inventory. He was not a trusting man.

  “Well,” he said finally, “that concludes this sorry business. My congratulations, Decius. Your performance exceeds even my best expectations.”

  “What will you do with all this treasure?” I asked.

  “I have condemned him as a traitor. Everything he owned is forfeit to the State.” He closed the chest and locked it. I made a mental vow to check the treasury records some day to see how much of it got turned in.

  “This calls for a celebration,” Caesar said. “I shall hold a banquet this evening in your honor. Now go catch up on your sleep. Tonight, we banquet; tomorrow, it’s back to the war.”

  I needed no encouragement. As I walked back to my tent, everyone I passed saluted me. There were smiles all around. I found Hermes already asleep, waiting in the tent door for me. I spread a cloak over him, stripped off my armor, and collapsed like a dead man.

  That evening, we feasted on wild boar brought in by Gallic hunters and washed it down with excellent wine from Caesar’s personal store. Smiles and backslaps and congratulations were heaped upon me. Everyone was my friend. From being the most detested man in the legion, I was now its hero. I enjoyed it enormously, all the more so because I knew that it wasn’t going to last. Caesar even gave me a fine new sword to replace the one the Germans had taken from me.

  Gradually the other officers wandered off to their beds or their night duties and I bade the Proconsul good night and went off in search of my own tent. Hermes, long experienced at this work, waited outside to make sure that I did not get lost. I handed him the napkin full of delicacies I had collected for him and we ambled slowly down the line of officers’ tents.

  “It’s been a frantic few days, Hermes,” I told him, “but the worst is over now. Once the war gets going it will seem easy after all this.”

  “If you say so.”

  I thought about all that had happened since young Cotta had awakened me in the middle of the night, summoning me to the praetorium. The memory was like a blow to the head and I stumbled, almost falling.

  “Did you trip on a tent rope?” Hermes asked.

  “No, a revelation.”

  He scanned the ground. “What’s it look like?”

  “It looks like I’m a fool,” I said. “Druids, Germans! Nothing but distractions!”

  “I think you’d better get to bed and sleep it off,” he said with a look of concern.

  “Sleep is the last thing I need. You go on back to the tent. I’ll be along soon.”

  “Are you sure about this?” he said.

  “I am sober, if only from shock. Leave me now.”

  He obeyed me and I was alone with my thoughts. Publius Aurelius Cotta had been the officer in charge of the Porta Praetoria the night Titus Vinius had died. What had Paterculus said? No officer of the guard leaves his post unless properly relieved. But Cotta had come to my tent to fetch me, and it was still dark at that hour.

  He was preparing for bed when I stopped by his tent. “Decius Caecilius,” he said, surprised, “my congratulations once again. What brings you to my tent?”

  “Just a small question concerning the night Vin . . . that man died.”

  “Is it still bothering you?” He grinned. “You are the most single-minded man I ever met. What is your question?”

  “You were officer in charge of the Porta Praetoria that night. You let the Provincial party through when they displayed their pass. But you came to summon me to the praetorium later that night. How did that happen?”

  “A little past midnight I was relieved and told to report to the praetorium as officer on call. Some of Caesar’s lictors were there and they told me he’d turned in. There’s a spare cot in the lictor’s tent where the duty officer can sleep when there’s no excitement. He’s got a runner who has to stay awake at all times. Mine was a Gaul who barely knew ten words of Latin.”

  “Were you told why you were relieved and your duty changed?”

  “Do they need to give you a reason?” he asked.

  “Usually they don’t bother,” I agreed. “Who took your place at the gate?”

  “It was your cousin, Lucius Caecilius Metellus.”

  “Thank you, Publius. You’ve cleared something up for me.”

  “Happy to be of service,” he said, looking utterly mystified.

  I didn’t bother to announce myself when I barged into Lumpy’s tent. He sat up in his cot, consternation on his face, then disgust.

  “Decius! Look, if it’s about that hundred . . .”

  “Nothing that easy, Lumpy,” I said jovially. I sat on his cot and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dear cousin, I want to know who you passed through the Porta Praetoria and then readmitted on the night the centurion whose name must not be mentioned was murdered.”

  “Decius,” he hissed. “Let it go! It’s over. You proved your client and his friends didn’t do it. Everyone is pleased with you. You’re Caesar’s favorite. Don’t ruin it, I warn you.”

  I pushed him back on the cot, drew my pretty new sword, and placed its point just beneath his chin. “Who went out, Lumpy?”

  “Easy, there! Put that thing away, you lunatic!”

  “Talk, Lumpy.”

  He sighed and it was as if all the stuffing went out of him. “I was on night officer duty at the praetorium. Paterculus told me to go relieve Cotta on the gate. He said later on there’d be a party leaving and they’d have a pass from him. I was to let them out and back in and say nothing to anybody about it.”

  “And did he tell you why he was doing this?” I asked, knowing the futility of it.

  “Why would he do that? It was some business of his own or Caesar’s and I wasn’t about to ask.” No, Lumpy wouldn’t ask. That was why they had sent him. They wanted an experienced political bootlicker on that gate, not an inexperienced boy who didn’t know enough to watch out for his own future. I got up and resheathed my sword.

  “Lumpy, I am ashamed to share the same name with you.”

  He rubbed his neck, which was bleeding from a tiny nick. “That won’t be the case much longer if you keep this up.” But I was already out through the tent flap.

  The guards at the praetorium entrance saluted me and smiled. Everyone was smiling at me lately, except for Lumpy.

  “Good evening, sir,” said one of them.

  “I forgot something earlier this evening,” I said. “I’ll just go in and fetch it.”

  They turned and looked at the tent. Light poured from its entrance. “Looks like the Proconsul’s still up. Go on in, sir. He says all his officers are to have access during his waking hours.”

  Caesar was sitting at a table with a line of lamps burning behind him. Before him on the table was the silver bracelet. He looked up as I came in.

  “Yes, Decius?”

  “The Druids didn’t kill Titus Vinius,” I said. “You did.”

  He glared at me for a few moments, then he smiled and nodded.

  “Very, very good, Decius. Really, you are the most amazing man!
Most men, having settled a problem to their satisfaction, will never reconsider it to see if they overlooked something.”

  “You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t sent Cotta to fetch me. I knew he’d been assigned to the gate that evening, not to the praetorium.”

  “Ah, I see. Upon such minutiae do great matters balance. By the way, I did not ‘get away’ with anything. I am Proconsul of this Province, with complete imperium. I am empowered to carry out executions without trial where I see need, and no one may hinder me in this or call me to account, even if his name is Caecilius Metellus.”

  “How did you do it?” I asked. “Did Paterculus throttle him while you stabbed him?” I suppose I sounded truly bitter. I never liked being someone’s dupe, and I had been feeling particularly good that evening.

  “Don’t be impertinent! The pontifex maximus of Rome does not befoul his hands with the blood of traitors. The execution was carried out in accordance with my instructions by my lictors, in constitutional fashion.”

  “Except for the Druidic embellishments.”

  He looked at me sourly. “Oh, sit down, Decius. You’re spoiling my digestion with your righteousness. If you ever hold high office you’ll have to perform some disagreeable tasks. Be grateful if they involve nothing more unpleasant than exterminating a treacherous scoundrel like Vinius.”

  I sat. “But why? If you found out what he was up to, why not just denounce him, whack his head off, and confiscate his property?”

  Caesar pinched the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly very tired. “Decius, I have here the largest task ever handed to a Roman proconsul. I must use every tool that comes to my hands if I am to accomplish it. Out there”—he released his nose and pointed northeast—“are the Helvetii. You’ve had some experience of the Germans and you know they’re pouring across the Rhine. I cannot afford an alliance between them. I must fight them one at a time. I saw an opportunity to drive a wedge between the Germans and the Gauls and I acted upon it.”

  “You interviewed the Druid Badraig concerning their religious practices. That was how you learned of the triple slaying.”

  “Exactly. Since I intend to break the power of that priesthood, blaming them for the murder seemed an elegant way to accomplish several of my aims at once. I was sure that Ariovistus would revenge himself upon them and that the Gauls would never ally themselves with someone who killed Druids.”

  “But why not just denounce the Druids at once? Why blame the soldiers and leave me to puzzle things out while you went off to find your legions? That is labyrinthine even for you.”

  “It certainly made me look innocent of conspiracy, didn’t it?”

  “Ariovistus said there are no innocent Romans. Maybe he was right.” I felt as tired as Caesar looked. “How did you learn of Vinius’ treachery? Was it Molon?”

  “It was. That ugly little schemer is playing more games at once than I am. He came with information for sale, told me that Vinius was storing away big bribes from somewhere. I find it is often a good idea to retain a slave to spy on his master.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “I told him to find out when Vinius was next to meet with his paymaster. This time it was that German, Eramanzius. He went out with the Provincials, who were too lofty to notice that they had an extra slave following them. I suppose he would have returned at first light and mingled with the peasants coming in to sell their produce. It would have been easy enough. He met with the German out by the lake. Molon knew he would have to pass close by the pond and we were waiting for him there.” He poked at the bracelet on the table before him. “Treasonous bastard though he was, Vinius retained a bit of his soldier’s sentimentality. He would never take this bracelet off. He covered it with a bandage when he went out.”

  I remembered the scrap of dirty white cloth I had found at the murder site. Another little anomaly explained. “And the bracelet was Molon’s pay for betraying his master?”

  “Part of it. And I thought it fitting. It offended me to see a traitor wearing a Roman award for valor, even dead. Why not give it to a wretched slave? Of course, I never dreamed that he was working for Ariovistus as well.”

  “Do you think he’ll tell Ariovistus?”

  “He cost Ariovistus his spy in my camp. It would be death for him to speak of it now. I think he will want to stay in my good graces. He did what he could for you while you were captive.”

  Most matters were answered now. “How could you condemn eight innocent men?”

  He looked almost ashamed, if that were possible. “I was sure you’d have it pinned on the Druids before I got back. I never dreamed that you would do something as insane as go beyond the rampart on your own and get captured by the Germans.”

  “But when I ran in this morning, you were about to have their friends flog them to death.”

  “Decius, here in Gaul we are playing the highest-stakes game in the world. When you set a game in motion, you must see it through, however the dice fall.”

  I rose. “I will take my leave now, Proconsul. Thank you for answering my questions. I realize that, with your imperium, you owe no answers to anybody.”

  He stood and put a hand on my shoulder. “I respect your scruples, Decius. Such are rare in Rome these days. I owe you no less. And, Decius?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am very pleased that you did not touch the contents of that chest. I inventoried it myself before I had that boy summon you. I would have been most upset if any of it had been missing. Go on and get some sleep.”

  So I walked out of the praetorium, satisfied if not happy. I had rather liked Badraig, but a lot of Gauls were going to die soon, and a lot of Romans as well. Oddly enough, I was going to miss Freda. I would even miss Molon, but I suspected I hadn’t seen the last of him.

  I went through the darkened camp, asleep now except for the doubled guard. It was a legion fully ready for war. I was determined to get a full night’s sleep at last. A soldier needs his sleep when there’s a war on. The Gauls might arrive tomorrow, and then I might not get a decent night’s sleep for ages.

  These things happened in Gaul, in the year 696 of the City of Rome, the consulship of Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus and Aulus Gabinius.

  GLOSSARY

  (Definitions apply to the last century of the Republic.)

  Acta Streets wide enough for one-way wheeled traffic.

  Aedile Elected officials in charge of upkeep of the city and the grain dole, regulation of public morals, management of the markets, and the public Games. There were two types: the plebeian aediles, who had no insignia of office, and the curule aediles, who wore the toga praetexta and sat in the sella curulis. The curule aediles could sit in judgment on civil cases involving markets and currency, while the plebeian aediles could only levy fines. Otherwise, their duties were the same. Since the magnificence of the Games one exhibited as aedile often determined election to higher office, it was an important stepping stone in a political career. The office of aedile did not carry the imperium.

  Ala Literally, “wing.” A squadron of cavalry.

  Ancile (pl. ancilia) A small, oval sacred shield which fell from heaven in the reign of King Numa. Since there was a prophecy that it was tied to the stability of Rome, Numa had eleven exact copies made so nobody would know which one to steal. Their care was entrusted to a college of priests, the Salii (q.v.), and figured in a number of ceremonies each year.

  Aquilifer The chief standard-bearer of a legion, the “eagle-bearer” The eagle was semidivine, the embodiment of the legion’s genius.

  Atrium Once a word for house, in Republican times it was the entry hall of a house, opening off the street and used as a general reception area.

  Atrium Vestae The Palace of the Vestals and one of the most splendid buildings in Rome.

  Augur An official who observed omens for state purposes. He could forbid business and assemblies if he saw unfavorable omens.

  Auxilia Non-citizen units supporting the legions. A
full term of service, usually twenty years, conferred citizenship upon the soldier at discharge. Citizenship was permanent and would be inherited by his descendants.

  Basilica A building where courts met in inclement weather.

  Caestus The classical boxing glove, made of leather straps and reinforced by bands, plates, or spikes of bronze.

  Caliga The Roman military boot. Actually, a heavy sandal with hobnailed sole.

  Campus Martius A field outside the old city wall, formerly the assembly area and drill field for the army. It was where the popular assemblies met. By late Republican times, buildings were encroaching on the field.

  Censor Magistrates elected usually every fifth year to oversee the census of the citizens and purge the roll of Senators of unworthy members. They could forbid certain religious practices or luxuries deemed bad for public morals or generally “un-Roman.” There were two Censors, and each could overrule the other. They wore the toga praetexta and sat in the sella curulis, but since they had no executive powers they were not accompanied by lictors. The office did not carry the imperium. Censors were usually elected from among the ex-Consuls, and the censorship was regarded as the capstone of a political career.

  Centuriate Assembly (comitia centuriata): Originally, the annual military assembly of the citizens where they joined their army units (“centuries”). There were 193 centuries divided into five classes by property qualification. They elected the highest magistrates: Censors, Consuls, and Praetors. By the middle Republic, the centuriate assembly was strictly a voting body, having lost all military character.

  Centurion “Commander of 100” (i.e., a century) which, in practice, numbered around sixty men. Centurions were promoted from the ranks and were the backbone of the professional army.