by R. W. Peake
~ ~ ~ ~
Pompey had indeed been busy, using his contacts and influence on the eastern fringes of the Republic to summon troops and supplies from all the various petty kings, satraps, and other puppets of the region, along with building extensive fortifications along the coast in preparation for our landing. Then, Caesar decided to prove me wrong in my judgment that we would not be mounting an assault for a few months by relinquishing the dictatorship and leaving Rome, arriving in Brundisium in mid-December. He immediately issued orders to begin preparations for embarkation, despite the dearth of reliable transports. Deciding that rather than waiting, he would launch the invasion in three waves, we were summoned to headquarters one frosty morning a couple days after Caesar had arrived. An excited bunch made their way from our Legion area across the sprawling base to the designated building. All of us were animated at the idea of action, save for one, and that one was me. I had honestly believed that we would spend the winter on this side of the sea that separates Italia from Greece, and I did not relish the idea of telling Gisela that I would be leaving shortly. She knew, like everyone in the area did, that Caesar had arrived, but she had taken my assurances that it was just an inspection, meaning nothing. Unfortunately, now I was going to have to tell her differently. We had been together barely a month, and if the rumor mill were to be believed, we would be embarking just as quickly as the ships could be loaded. When the ten of us arrived at the headquarters building, we were shown into Caesar’s presence immediately, another sign that things were moving rapidly. I was shocked when I saw him; he looked like he had aged overnight, his face deeply lined, with the deep grooves etched in his forehead that some call “worry lines.” He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was even paler than it normally was, since he had the kind of complexion that did not darken in the sun as much as men who had skin tones such as mine. Despite all these signs of woe, he displayed the same energy, and after greeting some of us warmly by name and making the obligatory joke about my size, he got down to business.
“Gentlemen, we are about to embark on the last phase of this operation, one that should culminate in the end of this unfortunate and unhappy war.” We stood silently at intente, watching him gather his thoughts for what he would say next. Looking down at some papers on his desk for a moment before resuming, he continued, “I intend to launch an amphibious operation, an operation in which the 10th will be accorded the signal honor of accompanying me in the first wave.” So far, nothing was a surprise, the rumor mill being extremely accurate to this point. Caesar noted our lack of expression, and his face darkened for a moment before he expelled his breath with a harsh chuckle. “And I’m not telling you anything you don’t know already, am I? I should remember that there are no secrets in the army.” Pursing his lips, he let out a sigh. “Very well, that’s the gist of it anyway. I will also be taking the 11th, 12th, 25th, 26th, and 27th, along with the Cohorts of the 28th that held faith with me instead of going over to Pompey like the rest of that lot.”
While our role was not a surprise, the identities of the other Legions were, and I exchanged a sidelong glance with Crastinus, who raised an eyebrow, which did not escape Caesar’s attention.
“Is there anything you care to say, Primus Pilus Crastinus?” Caesar asked mildly.
Crastinus reverted back to the age-old soldier’s trick of going rigid and staring off into space. “No, sir, nothing at all, sir.”
Caesar picked up a stylus, tapping it thoughtfully against his chin, then replied, “I would prefer it if you spoke your mind, Gaius Crastinus. You know I value the opinions of my Centurions.”
Crastinus was now off the hook; he had just been ordered to speak his mind, no matter how politely it was phrased, and he did not waste the opportunity.
“It’s just that, given everything we’ve heard from the intelligence reports, that bunch over there has had a lot of time and put in a lot of effort in fortifying the possible landing spots.” Caesar nodded his agreement with that statement, and Crastinus continued, “Given that, sir, it just seems a bit . . . chancy to include green Legions like the 25th and the rest in the first wave. I mean,” he added hastily, “we’re happy that the 11th and 12th are with us as well, but wouldn’t it be good to have the boys from Gaul in the first wave?”
When Crastinus finished, Caesar looked to the rest of us to see if we had anything to add, but we did not. Not only was Crastinus our senior and therefore our spokesman, he had summed up exactly what constituted our fears. More than half the army would be untested troops; granted they had been in the army for more than a year, but they had not seen any action.
Seeing us remain silent, Caesar nodded, heaving a sigh that seemed to contain all the weariness of the world in it. “Ideally, you would be correct, Primus Pilus. It would indeed be better to put all my veterans together in the first wave to ensure the highest probability of success. But I’m sure I’m not telling you anything that you don’t know when I say that the men of the 7th, 8th and 9th and I had a bit of a . . . falling out.” Despite the seriousness of the topic, a ghost of a smile played about his face at the understatement, eliciting a couple of chuckles from us. He grew serious again, and continued, “Given that, I’m not sure how far I can trust the men of those Legions, and until I am sure again, I'm not willing to risk the consequences if they should decide to switch their allegiance.”
Although we understood and accepted his reasoning, it was still sobering to hear our general voice his fears about the loyalty of part of his army aloud, and I think he read in our faces our consternation.
“I do not make this decision lightly, because I know that some might see it as an insult.” His voice hardened, the memories of Placentia evidently coming back. “But it’s no more of an insult than was given me by their attempted mut . . .” he clamped his mouth shut, biting off the last word before it could be uttered fully. Such is the specter of dishonor associated with that word that our general did not even want to speak it aloud. Instead, he substituted the word “misunderstanding,” which I thought was a bit generous. If only I knew what lay ahead of us, I am not sure how I would have felt.
~ ~ ~ ~
We departed headquarters a few moments later, Caesar telling us that written orders would be coming our way shortly, but we now had a lot of work to do, and a short amount of time in which to do it. Caesar also informed us that he would be addressing the entire army later that day to announce his plans, so we hurried back to get the men ready for the formation. Delegating the task to my Optio, Scribonius, and confident that the other Centurions would get their own Centuries ready, I plodded across the depot for the main gate, and headed to our apartment to break the news to Gisela. I had learned, to my own peril, the folly of delaying bad news where Gisela was concerned and I prided myself, as I do to this day, on not making the same mistake twice. That does not mean I was looking forward to it in any way, and I remember thinking wryly that I had to remember to put in an order for more crockery, because I suspected there was going to be some breakage in the very near future. I did pause for a moment outside the door to gather myself and was struck by the thought that this was becoming a habit, but unlike other times, I was aware for the first time that there was an alternative, that I did not always have to do this to Gisela and my family. Vibi, as we called him, was too young to know this time, but if I stayed in the army there would be a time when he would be just as hurt as his mother. I shook my head angrily; these were unwelcome thoughts, particularly at this moment, except the idea that I might have a life outside the army had taken root and would not seem to die. Forcing this from my mind, I entered the apartment by way of a stairwell on the outside of the building so I did not have to go through the cloth merchant’s establishment. Gisela was feeding Vibi, who appeared like most of his meal had somehow missed his mouth, and he beamed up at me with outstretched arms, giving me a gummy smile sprinkled with a few white, even teeth. Despite the mess, I welcomed the distraction, swooping him up into the air as
he laughed with delight.
“And what brings you home in the middle of the day, Centurion?” Gisela had almost as much food splattered on her as Vibi, but she still looked desirable to me, and she must have sensed it because she added, “Are you here for a quick romp? Can’t you wait until tonight?”
Despite her words, she was smiling up at me, and I knew that if I wanted, I could have had her right then, making me feel even worse. I am not good at hiding my feelings and just as quickly as it had appeared, her smile fled as she searched my eyes. Before I could speak, she took a staggering step and sat back down on the chair from which she had been feeding Vibi.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
All I could do was nod, bracing myself for the explosion of her temper, automatically checking for breakable or dangerous objects within her reach. But what happened was far worse; instead of anger, I got tears, and lots of them. Gisela threw herself down on the table, covering her head with her arms, and I could see her body wracked by huge sobs. Seeing his mother in such obvious distress, Vibi started wailing in my arms, pushing away from me, and reaching for his mother. I felt horrible; I had not even said anything yet and my family was falling to pieces. I let Vibi down and he toddled over to his mother, grabbing at her thigh, then trying to crawl into her lap. Gisela sat up and pulled him up to her, and began to hug him fiercely, which seemed to do both of them good, their tears gradually subsiding. Poor Vibi got more than he had bargained for, however, and I suspected Gisela was clutching him more tightly than normal, because he began to squirm as he struggled to escape from her grasp. Now his tears of fear turned to tears of outrage, his face turning bright red from his struggles to escape his mother’s grasp, but she was not relinquishing it. She was now staring fixedly at me, her eyes still brimming with tears, but I could see by the set of the mouth and the tilt of her head that the anger was coming too. Perversely, I welcomed that more because I was more familiar with her anger than her sadness.
“When are you leaving us?” she asked bitterly, and all I could do was shrug.
“We don’t know for sure yet, but it’s a matter of days, no more.”
She flinched like I had struck her, then took a breath and said, “And how long will you be gone?”
Again, all I could do was shrug, and I thought that perhaps it had not been such a good idea to rush back and tell her. Maybe it would have been best to wait until I knew more, but then she would have heard from the other wives, or through the traders, or from talk in the street, and I would have been done for either way.
“Caesar's holding an assembly later today; I should have more of an idea after that.”
She shrugged. “I don’t suppose it really matters when I’ll be all alone again.”
“No you won’t.” I tried to keep the impatience from my voice but it was hard, “you have Vibi.”
The look she gave me could have burned the hair off my face if I had any. “That’s very nice. I was referring to my husband and having adult conversation.”
I did not know how to respond because I honestly had never thought about it like that before. I realized it had to be hard for her to be all alone with just Vibi; the couple I hired to serve her in Narbo had refused to come with her to Brundisium, and there had not been time to find someone suitable here. All I could do was shrug helplessly, and she refused to kiss me when I bade her goodbye to return to the base.
~ ~ ~ ~
Never before had so many Legions been assembled in one spot, and as big as the forum of the depot was, we still had to crush together in much tighter formation than was normal to accommodate everyone. The cramped conditions did not make anyone more cheerful. A number of squabbles broke out while we waited for Caesar to mount the rostra. Finally, the bucina sounded the signal for a general officer approaching and the army was called to intente. While I had a spot close enough to hear with no problem, Caesar’s words had to be relayed back by designated Centurions so that everyone could hear. He stepped up to the rostra, clad in his gilt armor and paludamentum, and began in his customary style.
“Comrades,” he began, “I stand here before you, ready to take one final step to end this horrible war with our misguided brothers, led by evil men who have no interest in the welfare of the Republic, but only in their own enrichment.”
He paused while this was relayed back to the rest of the men, and then he continued. “We are nearing the end of our toil and struggle. There is one last barrier to be overcome, one last battle to be won. With your help, we can bring peace to our great Republic. I ask you now, will you follow me? Will you help me accomplish this last task before we can rest and enjoy the fruits of peace?”
There was considerable chaos the next few moments, with the men who were able to hear Caesar roaring their affirmation, while the Centurions in charge of relaying Caesar’s words were drowned out by the noise. We had to issue commands to shut everyone up so that the men in back could have their opportunity to respond. Honestly, it was all rather anticlimactic by the time it was finished, and I could see the color rise to Caesar’s face. I remember thinking that even Caesar slipped up from time to time. Once things settled down, he picked up where he had left off.
“As you all know, we do not have as great a number of ships as I would desire for this operation.” I noticed that he did not mention the reason why we did not have the ships. “Therefore, I would ask of you that you leave all unnecessary baggage behind so that we can transport as many men in the first wave as possible. In any event,” he said with a theatrical smile and flourish, “there will be no need for baggage since we will not be campaigning long. And you do not want to already be loaded down when it’s time to divide the spoils of this last battle.”
As usual, Caesar knew his audience and played them with skill. Another roar issued from the throats of thousands of men at the thought of untold riches that waited across the sea, and by approbation, the army gave its full-voiced approval to Caesar’s plan. We were dismissed to begin preparations, the tentative date for the invasion to be the end of December, just a week away. Even with leaving the baggage and servants behind, there was a lot of work to do to ensure weapons were in good order, all stores and equipment were up to proper levels, and rations were drawn for the appropriate time period. We also took the time to perform a couple of forced marches with full gear in order to shake off some of the rust from our idle times, and it was in this manner that the next few days flew by.
~ ~ ~ ~
Before we embarked, I arranged to recall two of my slaves, which I was leasing to a business in town, bringing them to the house for Gisela’s use. They were both Gauls, and in the past, Gisela had been extremely resistant to having them serve her. She would not say why, but I assumed that it made her uncomfortable to have some of her own people as slaves, even if they were of a different tribe. By this time, whatever reluctance she had was outweighed by her loneliness and need for help around the house, so she gave her consent to the plan, albeit grudgingly. I made sure to pick a female for her, and the male I selected was a big, burly sort who was not very smart but was biddable and docile, yet presented a pretty fierce countenance that I was confident would discourage anyone with a mind towards mischief. Despite my attempts to make her more comfortable, I was given the cold shoulder every evening when I went home, with Vibi picking up on the tension and therefore was also fussy, compounding all of our misery. Finally, the date for sailing was set for the 4th of Januarius, and it was only then, on the day before we sailed, that there was a thawing between us. Since the embarkation was going to start at dawn, I could not stay the whole night, and when I left, Gisela sobbed hysterically, clinging to me as she clutched the baby. It was all I could do to extricate myself, and in truth, I felt horrible leaving them standing in the doorway of the apartment. The picture of my wife and child, framed by the light from the apartment, is burned into my memory.
~ ~ ~ ~
The loading of the army took the whole day, and as luck would h
ave it, the 10th was one of the first to embark, meaning that we bobbed about in the harbor, waiting for the rest of the army. Because of the time of year, the water in these parts was excessively choppy, so it was not long before men were draped over the side, spewing their guts out. Fortunately, I managed to avoid the embarrassment of joining the men on the side, but only just. We spent almost two full watches dipping about like a cork while the transports were loaded up, and it was full dark before the fleet formed up, turning to the east to begin the crossing. It was a miserable trip; the last time we were onboard ships was when we invaded Britannia, and I for one had forgotten just how horrible an experience it was, being doused with icy spray and trying not to fall over on the pitching deck. At least I was lucky enough, by virtue of my rank, to be above deck instead of crammed into the hold like the rankers, who were shivering and puking as the ships bucked against the waves. We were perhaps halfway across when the wind changed, blowing from the north, pushing the fleet away from the intended landing site at a spot near Palaeste, which Caesar chose for its good landing beach and relative seclusion. Now we were being forced southward down the coast, bad news because it pushed us closer to the last known location of Pompey’s fleet. As if that was not bad enough, once we were pushed a few miles off course, the wind then died down completely, leaving us motionless in the water. Despite the fact that was good for the men’s seasickness, it was dangerous because it left us vulnerable to being spotted and attacked by the enemy, whose warships were almost exclusively powered by oar, the same as ours, while the transports were sail-driven craft. Standing tensely on the deck, we strained our eyes in the direction of land, where we could see lights of a village that the sailors told us housed the base of the Pompeian fleet. We watched to see if any of the lights began moving, signaling that they were on the warships of the Pompeians and were headed for us. There was no talking; even if we were so inclined, we had been ordered to maintain complete silence, sounds carrying great distances over water. A very tense third of a watch passed as we sat motionless, the only sound the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat, but as usual Caesar’s luck held and none of the lights at the Pompeian base detached themselves to head our way. Finally, a murmur of relief started at the rear of the vessel. Turning to see what the commotion was, I felt the breeze on my cheek, coming from the southwest now, and soon we were underway again, heading back to our original landing site.