Marching With Caesar - Civil War

by R. W. Peake

  When I got to the front, standing a few feet away from me was a man who at first I would have said was a native Egyptian, judging by the darkness of his skin and style of dress, but he called out to me in perfect Latin, “Primus Pilus, my ass! This boy is barely able to shave!”

  It had been a long time since anyone had said that of me, and the flash of anger was immediate. “If you want to try and give me a shave, you prick, come here and see what happens.”

  He laughed. “You aren’t a pimple on the ass of some of the men I’ve bested,” and as he said that, he lunged at me.

  He was very quick and I barely blocked his thrust, then he bashed me a good lick with his shield that rocked me, wicker though it may have been. My arm ached from the blow, but I was determined to take the offensive, although I had to be wary not to get too involved with this man and not be alert to his comrades on either side.

  Without taking my eyes off the man, I whispered to the Gregarius next to me, Papernus, I believe it was, “When I make my move, you take the man to his left.”

  I heard him grunt, then made my own move, closing with the man, knocking the breath from him in a great whoosh when I barged into him behind my shield. Sensing Papernus striking immediately after me, I engaged with the man to my undefended side, allowing me to concentrate on my own opponent without worrying about getting stuck, or so I hoped. There was always the possibility that Papernus would be bested by his man but once you start thinking that way, you are already beaten. We pushed against each other and I was grimly pleased to hear him gasping for breath, trying to get the air back into his lungs that I had knocked out. Despite him putting every bit of energy into pushing back against me, my size and strength began to tell, and I felt him start sliding backwards towards the parapet and the ladder. If I could get him all the way back to the parapet, he would be blocking the ladder, thereby keeping any other enemy from ascending. That is the key to defending a wall: not giving your foe enough space where he has any kind of numerical advantage. I looked over the rim and into his eyes. I saw them widen in desperation once his back heel hit the edge. His strength was failing him and in desperation, he made an overhand thrust that almost got me, the point hitting just below my left collarbone but not having enough force behind the thrust to break the links of my mail. It still hurt like the fires of Hades, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I quickly let up, pushing against him, and throwing him off balance because he could not compensate for the sudden change quickly enough. He stumbled forward, just a step, but it was enough and we both knew it, my blade immediately flicking out at his exposed throat, the point punching in at the base of his neck, emerging on the other side for an instant before I recovered.

  “Not laughing so much now, are we?” I spat as he crumpled to the ground.

  His sudden absence immediately exposed the man to his right, who was already being pressed hard, so I ended him quickly. As I had assumed, Papernus had won his own battle, and just that quickly the breach was contained as we pushed the ladder away from the wall, heaving it as hard as we could because there were men on it. They all went tumbling down, the men almost to the top having the worst of it from the combination of the height and falling onto the raised weapons of their own comrades. Turning to look down at Valens, he pointed to another point on the wall where there was a fight, and I ran over to where he directed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  That was how the time passed, until the enemy finally had enough and retired, taking their wounded, but leaving their dead behind, to retreat down the avenue one last time. I was too busy to pay any more attention to what was happening down by the docks, but by the time we were done, it was impossible to ignore, since the smoke had now drifted over to cover us in ash, leaving us coughing, with runny eyes and snotty noses. Any exposed skin was covered in soot, the sweat attracting the ash like a moth to a flame, making the men look like Nubians. After making an inspection, I ordered half of them to remain in place while the other half were allowed to get some rest and eat. We dragged the bodies a short distance down the avenue and dumped them, and fortunately, they were gone the next day. Caesar returned at nightfall, and we learned what had taken place at the docks and the immediately surrounding area, which was still burning fiercely. The Egyptian attack on the docks was in fact led by Achillas and had almost been successful, forcing Caesar to take drastic action. In order to avoid the Egyptians capturing, or recapturing as it were, their fleet of more than 70 ships of a number of different classes, he ordered them all fired. Because the wind was blowing stronger than normal from the north, it sent the flames across the water, catching everything flammable on fire. Unfortunately, one of the things that caught was the great library, for which Caesar has been blamed, I suppose with good reason, although it was never his intention to do so. The fire at the library held an unexpected benefit in forcing Achillas to devote a good number of his men to combating the blaze instead of us. Fighting around the docks was fierce, ranging from one street to the next, but from all accounts, the boys of the 28th did a good job, pushing the Egyptians back several blocks from the dock area before they were ordered by Caesar to withdraw with him. When the next day dawned, we now controlled the Royal Quarter of the city, but only from south of the Canopic Way to the southern end of the palace enclosure. Caesar put us to work, creating a series of fortifications linking everything together so that we could move men and supplies from one part to the other. He also ordered us to push our lines out across the road on the southwestern side to give us access to the large marsh that rings the Lake Harbor on that side. The men worked throughout the night, illuminated by the fires that continued to burn, but which also kept the Egyptians occupied so that we were not harassed. The largest building within our position was the royal theater, now designated as our combination hospital and assembly point for our morning briefings. Any building that stood in the way of the fortifications was razed, the stone used for the wall while we extended the work of battering holes in interior walls of buildings so that men could move almost completely under cover from one end of our redoubt to the other. During the battle at the docks, Caesar had ordered a detachment, armed with several artillery pieces, to board a boat that took them to Pharos Island, where they seized the lighthouse. Because of the shoals extending from the lower part of the jaws that guard the harbor entrance, the only clear channel deep enough to allow large ships to enter the harbor passes closer to Pharos Island and the upper part of the jaws. Having artillery emplaced at the lighthouse gave us command over any ships entering the harbor, although I do not know what Caesar was expecting, since we had burned the entire Egyptian fleet. Meanwhile, the Egyptians invested the western side of the city, the eastern side containing a group of people called Jews, who I had only heard mention of before this and who were mainly left alone. As busily as we worked, the Egyptians were just as busy, although they had a great deal more hands to do the work.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  While we worked through the night, another event occurred that would come to cause us grief. Since Caesar could not spare any of my men to guard the royal family, he used his cavalrymen, dismounted, of course, to watch over them. In the confusion of the night, the princess Arsinoe and her tutor Ganymede managed to escape, making their way to Achillas, where she volunteered to be the symbolic leader and focal point of the resistance, an offer that he gladly accepted. With the major part of the fortifications finished by daybreak, the men collapsed the instant they were given permission to put down their tools. There were minor improvements to be made over the next few days, but the major bulk of the work was done, and walking behind Caesar as he inspected the lines, I could see he was pleased. All in all, it was a good position, but still there were more bad things than good about our situation. Despite extending our works so that the canal carrying fresh water to the city was within our lines, we did not control the source, meaning it was only a matter of time before it was cut off. Because of the rapidity of our work in fortifying our area, the people livin
g in the area were unable to flee, giving us more mouths to feed, thereby exposing the biggest weakness of our position. The only way we could be resupplied was by sea. Although Caesar had removed the threat to our resupply being intercepted before reaching Alexandria by destroying the Egyptian navy, even when it did arrive, we would have to march in force down to the dock area, under fire from the rooftops and the towers that the Egyptians were building surrounding our position. It was not a good situation to be in, and on top of these difficulties, Cartufenus and I now had to deal with the men from two different Legions being thrust into close proximity to each other. One would think that the rankers would have more on their minds than getting into quarrels and fights with each other, but that has never been the case and I suspect it never will be. What made these circumstances slightly different was what the men were fighting about, and it was not the usual of whores or gambling. I first became aware that a problem existed when I was told by Diocles that Cartufenus had come to see me. I went out into the outer office, and could tell immediately by the expression on Cartufenus’ face that something had happened.

  Indicating my private quarters, he said tersely, “This is better spoken of in private, Pullus.”

  Once we were settled, he sat looking at his feet for a moment, obviously trying to decide the best way to begin.

  Finally, he looked up, his expression strained. “We’ve got problems, Pullus.”

  “So I gathered. What happened?”

  “Some of your men have beaten one of mine almost to death. The doctors don't think he’s going to survive.”

  This was indeed serious, but the punishment was straightforward and I said as much. In the back of my mind was the belief that because of the circumstances, Caesar could be persuaded to suspend punishment, but I was puzzled by Cartufenus’ discomfort.

  “It’s not quite that simple.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s why the man was beaten that's the problem.”

  This got my attention, and I leaned forward, indicating that he should continue.

  “Apparently your boys overheard some of my men talking about the situation.”

  “And? I don’t understand. So, some of your men were moaning about our circumstances.”

  He looked uneasy, but continued, “They were doing more than moaning. The man who was beaten was apparently the ringleader of a group of men who were talking about deserting over to the Egyptians.”

  That made me sit up, I can tell you. As bad as that was, I sensed that there was more, and I was right.

  “They weren’t going over empty-handed. They were going to offer the Egyptians information about our defenses in exchange for safe passage, and some money.”

  “Do you know if they had made contact with the Egyptians yet?”

  Cartufenus shook his head. “I don’t know. The man that yours beat is unconscious, so I couldn’t question him.”

  “What about the others? You said there were others.”

  “They scattered to the four winds. Your men didn’t get a good enough look at them to identify anyone. I already asked.”

  “Where are my men now?”

  “They’re outside the theater under guard.”

  I sat thinking for a moment. Cartufenus was right; this was a very sticky situation, and was one of those matters better off staying among the ranks and not reaching the ears of Caesar or his generals. I got up and went with Cartufenus to where my men were standing, watched by a section from the 28th. I was about to make a sharp comment to Cartufenus about using his men to guard mine, but I realized that if he had called the provosts there would have been no way to keep this quiet, so instead I quietly thanked him. His only reply was a nod. Even as we walked down the narrow back street towards the theater, the idea formed in my mind about whom I might find under guard, so I cannot say I was very surprised when I saw that two of the men were the brothers Tetarfenus. There were four of them all together. They watched us approach with expressions ranging from apprehension to defiance, and the brothers bore the latter look on their face. Despite myself, I sighed, not wanting any part of this, but knowing that it had to be handled delicately. No matter the reason, the men could not escape punishment for what they had done, yet if I made their penalty too harsh, they had the right to seek an audience with the Legate, and if they were still not satisfied, with Caesar. That, of course, would be the exact opposite result that Cartufenus and I were trying to achieve, making me just as apprehensive as the men, but unlike them, I could not let it show. Sergeant Tetarfenus was the ranking Legionary, and it was to him that I addressed my first question.

  “Sergeant, what do you have to say for yourself and these men?”

  Tetarfenus was standing at intente, along with the other three men, and his tone was emotionless as he gave his report.

  “Primus Pilus, we overheard some of the men of the 28th plotting to desert to the Egyptians. In exchange for safe passage, they were offering information about our defenses and dispositions. Oh,” he added, “and they wanted money as well.”

  “I know all that,” I said impatiently. “My question is, why did you think it was the right thing to do to take matters into your own hands and beat one of the men half to death without going to your Centurion, or to me?”

  He shrugged. “We knew that you and Hastatus Posterior Clemens had other things on your minds.”

  “Well, thank you very much for your concern, Sergeant,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “But thanks to your little stunt, now it’s not just Clemens and I that are involved, but the Primus Pilus of the 28th as well. And you’ve dumped us in the cac up to our necks.”

  Tetarfenus shifted uncomfortably, and I saw the other three men shooting glances at each other. It was clear that they had talked things over among themselves, but apparently, matters were not going the way they thought they would.

  “Er, yes sir. Sorry about that, sir. We just thought . . .”

  I cut him off. “And now we come to the kernel of the problem, Sergeant. You've been in the army long enough to know that of all the things a ranker should be doing, thinking isn't one of them. That's what your Centurions and Optios are for. And because you had ideas above your rank, now here we all are with our asses hanging in the air. So, since you decided to think for yourself, what do you think I should do with the four of you? Please, enlighten me.”

  I crossed my arms, looking down at Tetarfenus, who looked back at me, his expression becoming calculating, though he said nothing. After a moment, I realized that he was unsure how freely he could speak, so I told him that he could speak his mind and I would not hold it against him.

  He looked first at Cartufenus, then at me, and finally said, “Well, sir, as I see it, there’s not a whole lot you can do. Officially, I mean,” he added hastily, seeing my eyes narrow in anger at the suggestion that I was powerless, “but I know that there are . . . other ways that you can punish us. Sir.”

  I said nothing, just nodded for him to continue. He eyed the others, and I caught an almost imperceptible nod from his brother.

  His tone was shrewd as he continued, “But as far as official punishment, I don’t think either of you are particularly anxious for the boys and me to tell any of the generals why we beat that prick.” I saw Cartufenus’ lips thin in anger, but he said nothing. Taking our silence as recognition of the truth in what he was saying, which indeed it was, he went on, “So you’re somewhat limited in what you can do to us. But, I also understand that we must be punished in some ways.” I saw the faces of his companions turn to him in surprise and not a little anger, but he shook his head, saying firmly, “So, we'll accept whatever punishment you deem fit. The only thing I would add is that I do think that the reason we beat that . . . man should be taken into consideration.”

  He looked at Cartufenus when he said this last part. The message was unmistakable, and both Cartufenus and I knew it. I could not help admiring Tetarfenus; he had done us both very neatly. If I ignored what he said and punished them harshly, no m
atter how unofficial it was, the word would get out not just about the punishment but why they were being punished, and my tenuous hold on the 6th would be gone, although it would appease the men of the 28th. Conversely, if Cartufenus pushed for a harsh punishment, there is no doubt that the planned treachery of his men would become common knowledge throughout the army. While his men might appreciate his attempt to exact revenge for their comrade, he would lose Caesar’s confidence that he had control of his Legion. Now all that was left was to determine exactly how the men should be punished, but I decided that since we had gone this far, it made sense to continue.

  “Very well, Sergeant,” I finally replied, my tone as neutral as I could make it. “I understand what you're saying. I’m not saying I agree, but I understand. So if you were me, how would you proceed?”

  He suddenly looked uncomfortable; obviously, he had not planned on being forced to come up with a suitable punishment. If it had just been for himself, I doubt it would have been a problem, but now he had to worry about how the other three men, including his brother, would take whatever he proposed. Now, he was in a tight spot, and as he looked at me, I smiled, except it was not a pleasant smile. See how you like it, you little turd, I thought.

  He did not speak for a moment, then finally said, “I don't think a flogging or any reduction in rank would be appropriate, nor would any punishment that had to be entered in the Legion diary, like reduction of rations. Besides, unless I miss my guess, we’re all going to be on reduced rations before long.” He smiled grimly. “I think extra watches for a week, and extra fatigues for the same length of time.”

  “A month,” I responded instantly, and he opened his mouth to protest, yet stopped himself, his mouth reducing into a thin line the only sign that he was angry. The other men did not do as good a job of hiding their displeasure, but I was unmoved. I knew that he would only propose a punishment that the men would laugh about later around their fire because it was so light. And while it may sound trivial, extra watches and extra fatigue duty meant that these four men would be dead on their feet, getting perhaps one watch’s worth of sleep a night for the next month. By the last week of their punishment, they would be more dead than alive. Besides, I reasoned, the way things looked, they might very well be dead long before the month was up. The matter settled, the men were dismissed and as they walked back to their quarters, I watched them go, thinking that Sergeant Tetarfenus would bear watching. He had potential as a leader, but he also had a clever streak that might get him into trouble.