Marching With Caesar - Civil War

by R. W. Peake

  He threw back his head and laughed, and I was pleased with myself for amusing him.

  “Well put, Pullus. Well put. And I take your point.” That done, he became all business. “The reason I called you is to tell you to prepare the men. We're leaving.”

  “Where to, Caesar?”

  “Alexandria. I've received reliable reports that Pompey has decided to head there with the goal of trying to convince their young king that his cause isn't doomed. I want to get there as quickly as possible and end this nonsense once and for all.”

  Although that sounded good to me, I had my doubts about whether it would in fact end, and obviously, the reservation showed, because Caesar read my face and gave a sigh.

  “You have your doubts, neh, Pullus?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Caesar, I have my doubts.”

  Crossing his arms, he sat on a table, regarding me steadily, then asked, “And why is that?”

  “Cato.”

  I am not sure what reaction I expected, but he pursed his lips and considered me with narrowed eyes. “And why do you fear Cato?”

  Before I could stop myself, I retorted, “I don’t fear Cato, Caesar. There’s not a man born that I fear, and I certainly don’t fear a . . .”

  I stopped myself before I made what could have been a huge error. No matter what Caesar may have thought of Cato, Cato was of his own class and the upper classes of Rome are incredibly touchy about any slurs or even criticism leveled at men of their own station, particularly by one as lowly born as me, Centurion or not. But I need not have worried, for Caesar finished for me.

  “You don't fear a . . . prick like Cato?” His eyebrow arched as he asked, and I laughed.

  “Actually I was going to call him a ‘cunnus,’ Caesar. But ‘prick’ will do just fine.”

  “So why do you think Cato poses a threat?”

  It was then that I explained to Caesar the longstanding argument between me and Vibius about Cato, how I had sat by more fires than I could count as Vibius recounted all that he thought Cato represented. He said nothing as I relived our endless arguments, but finally held up his hand.

  “Pullus, as much as I appreciate hearing about Domitius’ feelings about Cato, it still doesn't answer the question.”

  I felt the heat rising through my neck to my face, mainly because I realized he was right. I was not touching on the heart of the matter.

  Thinking for a moment, I finally said, “I worry about Cato because he hates you, and is fanatical in that hatred. I think the reason he hates you so much is because you represent change, and despite all of Cato’s talk about preserving traditions, at his heart, he’s just a small man who hates change. And small men hate great men with a passion that never dies.” I finished by saying, “Pompey may not agree with you, but he doesn’t hate you. Cato does, and he’ll never stop. And he has three Legions.”

  Caesar leaned back, arms still crossed as he regarded me thoughtfully. “Pullus, I said once I may have underestimated you. Now I know that I have.” Then he shrugged. “I have no doubt you're right, Pullus. But it makes no difference; as soon as I finish with Pompey, we'll go and meet Cato. And defeat him.”

  With that, the interview ended. I was given my written orders by one of the harried clerks, and returned back to the camp, nodding to the Primus Pilus of the 28th who had been summoned as well, absurdly pleased that I was summoned first.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Reading my orders, Caesar very specifically stated that I was not to mention our destination to anyone, and thereby unwittingly, or so I like to think, created the first big challenge to my command of the 6th. Once I returned to camp, I called a meeting of the other officers in my tent, regretting that since this was the first big occasion I had run out of the Falernian, it forced me to make do with whatever was available. Despite being indifferent to such things, I knew that many men thought highly of what type of wine they were served by a superior, viewing it somehow as a reflection of the regard or lack thereof in which they were held. However, there was nothing I could do about it, although looking back at how things transpired, perhaps if I had paid more attention to such things, my life would probably have been easier. I sent Diocles out to inform the command group to meet at my tent, and at the appointed time, I was pleased to see that they were all there, seated on stools and attentive to what I had to say. First having Diocles serve them, I waited the obligatory time for them to take a few sips of their wine, getting my first inkling of trouble from the sidelong glances some of them gave each other as they swallowed.

  I resolved to head things off, and started by saying, “First I'd like to apologize for the mediocre quality of the refreshments. Unfortunately, this was the best I could procure.” My heart sank a bit, seeing the patent doubt on some of the faces, but I pressed on. “I’ve been given orders by Caesar. We’re to prepare to move by ship. We embark day after tomorrow.”

  “Where to?” This was posed by Annius, and it was an innocent enough question, but I could not help hesitating, unfortunately instantly alerting the men, and I cursed myself.

  “My orders are very specific about that. I can't say.”

  If any of them had only been paying partial attention, this served to bring them around, and almost to a man, they straightened up on their stools, instantly alert. As I would learn, it was no surprise that Cornuficius raised his hand, yet that was a lesson for later. Nodding for him to speak, his seemingly blank eyes regarded me for a long moment before he did so, very slowly.

  “And why’s that, Primus Pilus? Why do you suppose Caesar has chosen to keep that from us?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but thank the gods I stopped myself, because I might have made things even worse. The answer, to me at least, was obvious; the loyalty of the 6th was still very much an open question. They had been Pompey’s men, enlisted by Pompey, and most importantly paid by Pompey. If they were alerted that we were going after Pompey himself, it was very much a wager as to whether or not they would have somehow alerted Pompey that we were coming, and I know which way I would have bet. However, to say that openly would cast doubt on their honor, and there are few things that Legionaries are touchier about than their honor, even when there is good reason to question it.

  Finally, I just shrugged. “I have no idea, Cornuficius.”

  Even as I said it, I realized how weak it sounded. Nobody answered immediately, and it was during this silence, watching the men closely, that I first saw that Cornuficius held sway, and not just over the 10th Cohort either.

  He sat, sipping his wine, eyes staring off at something none of us could see. Setting the cup down, he said calmly, “We must be going after Pompey.”

  My heart began thudding heavily, and I could hear the indrawn breath of the men, having a flash of insight that either Cornuficius was smarter than he appeared, or the others were not very smart; only time would bear that out. Of course, we were going after Pompey! What else would we be doing? Suddenly the quiet dissolved, the men speaking at once, and I held my hand up for silence. To their credit, they obeyed instantly, although I think it had more to do with wanting to hear my response than out of any respect.

  “Cornuficius, that's speculation on your part, but it’s only speculation.”

  He regarded me blandly, scratching an elbow. “Do you know where we’re going, Primus Pilus?”

  I had just been outmaneuvered, and I knew it. If I chose, I could simply lie, saying I had no idea, but that posed its own problems. First, it meant that I was not fully trusted by Caesar either, and part of my hold over the men at this point came from their view that I was favored by Caesar, so that any disobedience of me meant drawing his wrath as well as mine. Second, if I chose to lie, and the lie was discovered at some point later on, then whatever trust I had built by that point would blow away like sand in the wind.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, I know where we’re going.”

  Now they regarded me with close to open hostility, and Cornuficius pressed his advantage. “S
o neither you nor Caesar trusts us.”

  The situation hung on the edge of a sword; whatever hold I had gained over these men could crumble with what I said next, and I felt a flare of anger, letting it show in my voice.

  “First, I was given an order, and I follow orders. To the letter. Second,” I was struck by a sudden thought, “what would you do in my position, Cornuficius? Are you saying that you would not only violate your orders, but the trust placed in you by your commanding officer by telling what you knew despite very specific orders to the contrary?”

  I was pleased to see a look of discomfort pass through those cow eyes, but it was only a flash.

  “Well, Primus Pilus, the fact is I’m not in your position. But if I were, I guess what I would have to determine is wherein lies the greatest threat to myself, betraying my general, and worrying about him finding out about it, or having men at my back who do not trust me and what might happen because of their distrust.”

  I was flabbergasted and shocked into speechlessness, which was something of a blessing, because it gave me a moment to observe the reactions of the other men. A couple of them, Annius being most prominent, had a look on his face similar to what I had seen on the faces of men watching the games when a kill was about to be made. But there were others, Felix, Clemens, and Sertorius being most prominent, who looked at the very least uncomfortable.

  I forced my voice to remain calm. “Well, that’s certainly one way to look at it, Cornuficius. And if I were a suspicious man, I might think that you were actually making a threat, and as you know, as Primus Pilus, I would be well within my rights to have you arrested and executed, without trial.”

  Oh, he was a cool customer; I will give him that, because he did not even blink. He merely nodded and replied, “As you say, Primus Pilus. That would be within your rights. However, I don't think that it would endear you to the men of the 6th, and in turn, your command of them would be doomed to failure. Which in turn would mean that you failed your general and patron, Caesar.”

  “That would be a risk I’d have to take,” I replied evenly, “but you’d still be dead, neh? And I'd be alive, and where there’s life there’s always hope. Not so much hope when you’re dead.”

  “So we’re at an impasse then.” He sipped his wine again.

  Nobody spoke for several moments, each of us deep in our own thoughts.

  Finally, I shook my head and said, “Not really. Ultimately, it’s not just Caesar and by extension, me, you have to worry about. If things were to play out as you’ve described, do you really think that all the rest of Caesar’s army wouldn't have their revenge? Especially my comrades in the 10th,” I saw no need to reveal the true state of the relationship with some of the men of the 10th and me, “who I have no doubt whatsoever would take their revenge.”

  I could see that I was making an impact, and I pressed on. “Oh, it would never be anything official, you know that. A brawl outside camp, where suddenly the men of the 6th found themselves surrounded and outnumbered by the men of the 10th. Just a typical soldier’s brawl, although it'd be a bit bloodier than normal. A death here, a death there. Never more than one or two at a time, but they’ll add up over time, until the 7th and 10th Cohort of the 6th no longer exists, and the clerks at headquarters are left scratching their head trying to figure out what happened.”

  This had them thinking all right, and they did not like the direction this was taking, but I was determined to hammer home the point I was making.

  “So it’s not really an impasse. If I can’t convince you to accept and obey your orders, exactly as they’re relayed, because of the sacred oaths you all have taken at the lustration ceremonies, then you’ll just have to content yourself with the knowledge that my comrades would exterminate each and every one of you. Unofficially, of course.”

  All eyes turned on Cornuficius, and again there was deadly silence. Finally, someone cleared his throat.

  I turned to see Felix stand, and it was in the expression on his face that I first saw Scribonius, frowning while forming his thoughts. “Primus Pilus, I want to make sure you understand that Cornuficius is only voicing the concerns we all feel.”

  Everyone’s head nodded, with the exception of Cornuficius, I noticed, whose bovine eyes narrowed, watching Felix, and I remember thinking, there is no love between these two, something I would do well to remember.

  “However, I want to assure you that you can rely on me and the men of the Fifth of the Seventh to do their duty to Rome.” He put emphasis on the last word, looking directly at Cornuficius as he said it, then continued, “Because ultimately that’s who we all serve. Not an individual, but Rome.”

  I do not know whether he meant that as a rebuke to me just as much as to Cornuficius, but I chose to take what he said at face value, and I nodded my agreement. “Thank you, Felix, that’s well put. And I absolutely agree. We all serve Rome, and right now the orders of our general are that we're going to leave day after tomorrow, and I’m not at liberty to say where. Does anyone else have anything to say?”

  Predictably, nobody did. Dismissing them to go make their preparations, I stopped Cornuficius, motioning him to sit back down. He did so willingly enough, and I poured him another cup of wine and more for myself. We sat for a moment, sipping our wine while I tried to decide the best way to begin.

  As usual, I opted for the frontal assault. “So, Gaius Cornuficius. Am I going to have to kill you?”

  Of course, I had waited until he had started to take another sip of his wine, but instead of choking on it, he actually chuckled, lifting his cup to me in mock salute.

  “You’re welcome to try, Primus Pilus. Many have, but none have succeeded.”

  “None of them were me,” I said calmly, and now his expression changed.

  For just the briefest of moments his mask slipped and I saw a blaze of hatred and anger flare, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

  “That’s what some of the others said.”

  I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees so that I could look directly into his eyes. “Was my demonstration with Publius not enough? Or the fact that I faced more than 40 of the men and bested every one of them?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Publius is a profoundly stupid man, Primus Pilus. I wouldn’t set a lot of store in besting him. But I'll admit that I'm not your equal with a sword; in truth, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as good in all my time in the Legions.”

  My eyes narrowed as I tried to determine if he was playing to my vanity, but his face was expressionless, giving me no clue.

  Continuing, he said, “But there are many ways in which men do battle, Primus Pilus.” Sitting back, he rolled the cup in his hands, looking into its depths. Evidently coming to some decision, he said, “But to answer your original question, the answer is no, you won’t have to attempt to kill me, Primus Pilus, at least right now. I’ll do my duty in a manner that you’ll find no fault with. As Felix said,” as he spoke, he gave a small smile, just to make sure I knew that he thought no such thing, “we’re all doing our duty for Rome, and not one man.” He looked at me, I at him, and I knew in that moment that I had an enemy who I would have to watch very carefully indeed. “Will that be all, Primus Pilus? If so, I must go get the men ready to move out.”

  I stood, indicating that the audience was over, watching him depart as I thought about all that had taken place. Calling Diocles, I told him that I wanted to speak with Felix, then sat down heavily, pulling the wine to me.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Felix was announced, and I bade him enter. Clearly ill at ease, he stood at intente. Even after I gave him leave to sit, he relaxed only marginally and remained standing.

  I decided to jump right in. “I just wanted to thank you for what you said, Felix. Your words eased the tension quite a bit.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I could see he was trying to determine if there was anything hidden in my words that he needed to worry about. I laughed at the sight, thinking that he looked very much the way
I felt whenever I was around Caesar, and I told him as much.

  Shrugging, he said, “I just told the truth, Primus Pilus.”

  “Yes, but sometimes speaking the truth, especially under such circumstances, can be extremely difficult, especially in front of your comrades. I just wanted you to know your courage was appreciated.”

  “Thank you, Primus Pilus.”

  He was still standing stiffly; finally, I had to order him to sit down. Offering him wine, he accepted a cup, but did not drink. Sighing, I realized that this was going to take more work than I had thought.

  “Look, Felix, I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

  “Neither am I, Primus Pilus.”

  I do not know why, but I found this funny and burst out laughing. At first, he looked offended, then in a moment, he began chuckling himself. Before long, we were both roaring with laughter.

  Finally, I caught my breath. “Tell me about yourself, Felix. I just realized I haven’t sat down with any of you to find out more about each of you.”

  “I know, Primus Pilus.” He said this without obvious thought, and just as quickly, I realized the error that I had made.

  I had been so consumed with proving to the men that I was a physical force to be reckoned with and ensuring respect out of fear that I had not taken one of the most basic steps to guaranteeing that men obey because they want to, and that was to get to know them as men.

  “Really? What else have I done wrong?” The instant I said this, I realized that it had not come out the way I meant it, and I could see as much by Felix’s change, his posture becoming tense and defensive. Before he could reply, I held my hand up. “Pax, Felix. The instant I said that, I realized how it sounded, but I’m being completely sincere. I truly want to know if there is anything else that you think would help with making things run more smoothly.”

  Normally, I would never have asked this of a subordinate, at least not one I barely knew. Unfortunately, none of us, men, officers, nor I had ever been in a situation like this, and it was because of the straits we were in that I decided to throw the dice, hoping they came up Venus. I was taking a huge gamble that Felix would not simply tell me what he thought I wanted to hear before running back to the rest of the Centurions to relay how insecure I was truly feeling in my command. However, I felt that I had picked the right man for such a question, and the more I have thought about it, I have to believe that the similarities between Felix and Scribonius played a huge role in my choice. And my luck held; I had chosen the right man, who proceeded to help me more than I think even he knew.