by R. W. Peake
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Pausing only long enough to get formed back up, the men of the 6th charged into the Bosporans, who put up a fierce resistance for a few moments before they broke, but they bought enough time for Pharnaces and a few members of his retinue to escape on horseback out the opposite side of the camp. There was a blast of a horn, an obvious signal to the royal guard that Pharnaces had escaped, then to a man they stopped fighting, throwing their weapons down. Unfortunately, for some of them, it took a moment to get the men to stop cutting them down, despite the Centurions and Optios doing their best to halt the carnage. After they were disarmed, I assigned a Century to guard them before turning the rest of the men loose to loot the camp, which was all they were really concerned with anyway. The rest of the Bosporan force had crumbled by this time as well, so now the camp was filling with the rest of Caesar’s army. There was the inevitable confusion and squabbling as we Centurions worked out what part of the camp belonged to which Legion. Naturally I had selected the juiciest bit for my men immediately surrounding Pharnaces’ tent, which was being guarded by a couple of sections of my men for Caesar, detailing Felix to command them, knowing I could trust him not to yield to temptation or allow the men to either. Caesar rode into camp, where we hailed him as Imperator three times. He sitting on Toes, smiling down at us and I was struck by a sudden sadness, though to this day I do not know exactly why. Perhaps it was the knowledge that we were through fighting, and that Caesar would be sending the 6th back to Italy, for that is what he had announced as his intention the night before the battle during our final briefing. Oh, I was as anxious as any man to go home; I had a new child and I had not seen my wife in more than a year. While I cannot say that I enjoyed fighting with the same fervor that I did when I was younger and was marching in the ranks, marching to war was what gave my life purpose. I had enough of a taste of peace and garrison duty to know that I did not care for it the way some men did and in fact, found it much more onerous than the hard life of marching camps and campaigning. Gazing up at the man who I had followed for all of my adult life to that point, I felt like something was passing, that there was a change happening that I could not fully grasp, and I was more than a little surprised and mortified to feel my eyes start to fill with tears. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed, thankful that everyone was more occupied with cheering Caesar. He made a short speech, knowing that he needed to say something, but also knowing that he needed to keep it brief, since the men were only half-listening, the rest of their attention focused on the line of tents that they were about to ransack, mentally adding up the loot in their head. Of course, the amount that they imagined and what they would find were rarely in close proximity to each other, but every night around a fire there are tales told of the lucky Legionary who found a king’s ransom hidden under a bedroll, or a statue painted over to look ordinary but was really solid gold. The fact that none of the men telling the tales were actually those who experienced such a bounty did not dissuade them from the belief that they were true, and I had long since given up trying to convince any of my comrades who engaged in such fantasy that they were just stories told by bored men. Caesar thanked us for our valor, making special mention of the 6th for our work in smashing the chariot attack, and I could see the men were as pleased as if they had found that statue made of gold. I had to suppress a laugh; here were these hard-bitten men, who had marched for Pompey and had been defeated by the man praising them, yet they looked as proud as if they were the prized pupil being singled out for acclaim by their tutor. Despite themselves, and despite the vows I heard many of them make around the fires at night, they now loved Caesar just as much as the men who had been marching with him as long as I had, and they lived for these moments of praise from him. They had been seduced, just like me, and just like Cleopatra, though in truth I think with her it may have been the other way around. Regardless, the men of the 6th were now Caesar’s men. And we would be leaving him to march into an uncertain future.
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The next day a formation was held, where Caesar made public his plans for the army. I had been sworn to secrecy, meaning the news that the 6th was being sent back to Rome to receive all that they had been promised was a total and wonderful surprise to the men, and they cheered Caesar lustily. We would march overland through Asia all the way to Dyrrhachium, take the short boat trip across to Italy, then march to Rome and we would be escorting the prisoners taken the day before, where they would be sold into slavery. The proceeds of the sale would be evenly divided among the army, but not before they were marched in the triumph Caesar planned when he returned. The 36th and Deiotaran Legions would remain in Pontus for the time being, because Pharnaces had escaped and Caesar did not want to take the risk of him raising another army to try again. For our actions against the chariots, Caesar ordered our standards to be decked in both ivy and oak, and a number of the men were decorated on my recommendation, including Optio Tetarfenus, who was the first over the wall of the enemy camp. The royal treasury of Pharnaces had been captured intact, and while by custom it belonged to Caesar, he announced that the entire sum was also to be evenly divided among the army, which as you can imagine, was wildly popular with the men. Capping it all off, Caesar announced that the next three days were to be spent in thanksgiving, meaning that only the essential duties of guarding the camp and prisoners would be maintained, and that the wine ration was doubled for the entire three days. I do not know which the men cheered the loudest for, the three days off or the wine, but I found myself suppressing a grimace at the thought of the men being idle for three days, with enough wine to get them in trouble. Immediately after the thought struck me, I had to chide myself. Titus, you are in serious danger of becoming an old woman; there was a time when you would have been cheering just as loudly as the rest of the men at the idea of three days with nothing to do. When the men were dismissed, chattering excitedly with each other about the drinking and gambling of their newfound wealth they were going to do, I called a quick meeting of the Centurions and Optios.
“I don’t have to tell you that we're going to have to be on our toes,” I began, and was happy to see that at least all the heads were nodding in the right direction.
Normally at this point, I could have counted on Cornuficius to make some sort of comment, and immediately after his mouth opened, men like Annius would be echoing him, but with Cornuficius gone, his former toadies did not have the nerve to say anything on their own, for which I was thankful.
“But that doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun as well,” I continued, and I was rewarded with smiles all around. “I want two Centurions and two Optios from each Cohort on duty at all times, by the normal watches, and make sure that they’re all from different Centuries. The rest of you can get as soused as the men, as long as you’re sober in time for your turn at duty. Also, I know I’m going to regret this, but tell the men that I'm making my personal supply of wine available to them as well, as my thanks for a job well done.”
I bit back a smile as I saw their reactions, which seemed to waver between approval, apprehension, and a little bit of annoyance at the thought that the men were going to get a reward while they were not, but I was not through.
“Of course, I'm not talking about my Falernian, of which I have three amphorae. That's for you and the Optios to share, alone.”
I had long since exhausted the original supply of Falernian bequeathed to me by Pulcher all those years ago, but I had learned that the judicious use of a good vintage of wine went a long way towards smoothing the road of relationships with others. Falernian is one of the most prized varieties of wine, so I maintained a decent supply of it at all times, even when it cost me dearly. Suddenly I was a good man again, with my Centurions immediately commending my virtue and impeccable manners. Laughing, I called them “liars,” then dismissed them, happy to see that they were now as excited as the men at the thought of taking the next three days in debauching themselves.
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/> During that time, the men enjoyed themselves immensely, but I could see that they were ready to march at the end of it, so we wasted no time making preparations to begin the long trek to Dyrrhachium. We would be on the march for almost a month, with the extra burden of watching the prisoners all the way, though I doubted they would try anything rash. It was something I had noticed with people we defeated. Once they were beaten, something seemed to leave their spirit, and they almost always meekly submitted to whatever fate awaited them. These men were no different; they would plod along in chains, with no more than one or two of them making any attempt to escape or even exact vengeance on one of their guards before we cut them down. While I had seen it, I still do not understand it, and it is something that Diocles and I have spent many an evening discussing. Why do some people believe slavery is a better alternative than death? Diocles maintains that my thinking is shaped by the fact that I have never been faced with the choice of death or life as a slave, and he may be right, yet I still cannot imagine that life as a slave would be preferable to an honorable death. In regard to our present situation, the men we were escorting would have their wrists shackled, but their legs would be kept free so that they could march without encumbrance. However, to prevent them from running off, they were all fitted with neck collars with lengths of chain attached, the other end running to the neck collar of another prisoner. In effect, the men were all chained together so that if one tried to run off, every other prisoner would have to do the same thing at the same time. The other problem in moving such a large group of men, who outnumbered us more than five to one, is feeding and watering them. Naturally, they did not receive the same amount of food that we did, but we could not afford to starve them, for a couple of reasons. Most importantly was the fact that we needed them to maintain enough strength so that they could march at a reasonable pace. We did not expect them to be able to match the pace that we could set, but neither did we want to take three months marching, so they had to be strong enough to average at least twenty miles a day, depending on terrain. The second reason was that these men were an investment; the better shape they were in when they arrived at the slave markets, the more we all got paid. This was also the reason why the prisoners were only beaten when absolutely necessary, although along the way we had to make an example of a few of them, executing them for a number of offenses. Meanwhile, Caesar took the cavalry, continuing his tour of Asia, settling affairs, and making appointments to vacant offices. One of the problems of such a long march through the hinterland of the Republic was that we heard nothing in the way of news in the wider world. It was not until we arrived in Dyrrhachium that we learned the news, which had caused Caesar to cut short his work in Asia to return as quickly as he could back to Rome, and also prompted my recall back to the 10th Legion.
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The men of the 10th had now been simmering in camp for more than a year since Caesar had sent them away from Pharsalus. Despite there being some trouble in the past months, for the most part it had been small-scale and localized to a few men. However, the Tribunes Avienus and Fonteius had continued to agitate the men, telling them that they held legitimate grievances and were owed much by Caesar. This was true as far as it went; Caesar had indeed made promises to the men. Nonetheless, Avienus, Fonteius, and some of the Centurions had convinced them that since Caesar had not produced the promised rewards, they were entitled to take what they wanted. To that end, the men entered the city, going straight to the rich neighborhoods on the Palatine and Janiculum, ransacking houses, and taking everything they could carry off. During their rampage, two former Praetors, men named Cosconius and Galba, were murdered in their homes when they tried to defend their property. Shortly after the men of the 10th began their looting, they were joined by the 8th and 9th, and from all accounts, the city was in terror as the battle-hardened soldiers of Caesar’s army ran rampant through the streets. Only the 7th refused to join their comrades, and when Antonius ordered them to cordon off the city, they obeyed his orders. Rather than fight their comrades, the men of the mutinous Legions left the city, heading south to Campania, where the estates of the wealthy lay undefended, ripe for the picking.
This dire news brought Caesar from Asia, moving even faster than his normal speed, so that he arrived in Rome about the same time as the men returning to their camp from Campania, so loaded down with loot that they needed wagons to carry it all. At first, Caesar refused to go to meet the men, sending instead one of his aides, Gaius Sallustius Crispus, who was authorized by Caesar to promise the sum of 4,000 sesterces per man. Unfortunately, when the men demanded that he produce the sum in cash right then and he was unable to do so, Crispus was thrown out of the camp, and I mean that he was physically manhandled when he was ejected. Caesar then was forced to do something that I know had to rub him raw: going to the camp in person to face the mutinous Legions. All of this took place while we were marching, making the first time that I heard of any of it was when a courier came galloping down the Via Egnatia looking for me, carrying orders to make my way to Rome immediately by the fastest possible means. Naturally, this meant by horseback, and accompanying the orders was written authorization from Caesar himself to exchange mounts at government way stations, with the highest priority. The orders did not state why I was so urgently needed, while the courier could only tell me that there had been trouble with the 10th, but could provide no specifics. I did not have time for anything other than a hasty meeting with the Centurions, where I turned over command of the 6th to Valens, who was the senior ranking Centurion, and whose performance over the last few months had erased my earlier low opinion of him and his abilities.
“Will we see you when we get to Rome?” Felix asked.
All I could do was shrug and say that I hoped so, but I did not know. With that, we shook hands before I turned to Diocles, who was standing nearby trying not to look worried, without much success. On his skinny shoulders fell the responsibility of following me with all of my belongings that I could not carry on horseback or the one pack animal I had commandeered, despite not knowing exactly where I was headed beyond Rome. A number of slaves that had come into my possession over the last few years were included in my household, not counting those that were leased out to others, and now Diocles was in charge of all of it. Despite the fact that he had not been in my household for much more than a year, I had come to trust him implicitly, not only in the matter of running my affairs, but in his judgment about all manner of things. However, this was by far the biggest challenge during his time with me, and I could see that he was very concerned, despite doing what I could to assure him that I had complete confidence in him. I would have embraced him, but that would not have been seemly in front of others for a master to show that level of regard for a slave, so instead I shook his hand as an equal, which was probably only marginally better in the eyes of some of those watching. With that, I mounted the courier’s horse, grabbed the lead of the animal that had been hurriedly packed with my most necessary belongings, and I left the camp at a trot, heading for Caesar.
Chapter 7- Thapsus
I rode from before dawn until well after dark, stopping only when I was completely exhausted or when the horses were in danger of foundering. Then, I would throw myself down on the ground, wrapping myself in my cloak, trying to get a few thirds of a watch of sleep. In this manner, I covered about 70 miles a day, sometimes more and sometimes, but not often, a little less. Every two or three days, I would run into a courier heading somewhere at Caesar’s command, carrying instructions to provincial governors. Through them, in bits and pieces, I learned more details of what had happened with the Spanish Legions in Rome, although it was little enough. The biggest and, I suppose, best piece of news was that somehow things had been worked out to the point that the Spanish Legions were now marching with Caesar down the peninsula. From there, they would take ship for Sicily to prepare for the invasion of Africa, since Africa was where Scipio, Cato, and the rest of the Pompeian generals that had esca
ped from Pharsalus had fled. It was from these couriers that I learned that if I went to Rome, I would arrive weeks after the Spanish Legions had packed up to begin marching down the peninsula, so I made the decision that I would stop at Brundisium to see Gisela, Vibi, and my new baby daughter. I could not stay long, and in truth, I was not sure it was a good idea, thinking that it might make things worse between us instead of better, but I wanted to see my family. Making it to Dyrrhachium in September, I was forced to wait for two weeks before the winds were right to get a ship to Brundisium, sailing into port shortly before dark.
It is hard for me to describe how nervous I was, walking from the docks to the apartment. I was suddenly worried that Gisela and the children might have moved and I did not know it. Yet when I got to the building, the same people lived on the lower floor, and while they were surprised to see me, they assured me that Gisela still lived on the upper floor. Mounting the steps, yet another thought assailed me, this one much darker and more disturbing. Would she be alone? While I did not think she would be unfaithful, I knew of too many other men who had thought the same thing, only to be wrong, and things had not been exactly harmonious between us when I left. For a moment, I turned to leave. Yet, as much as I dreaded the idea of discovering that she had indeed taken a lover, the need to know was even stronger, so I continued up the steps, making sure that I trod heavily to give her some warning of my coming. Then I found myself standing before the door, knocking once, then twice. Finally, on the third try, I heard a stirring from inside, followed by the sound of the latch being raised. The door opened, and I was face to face with my wife for the first time in almost two years. She was as beautiful as I remembered her, so I drank in the sight of her, eyes wide in shock, tendrils of hair framing her face, the color draining from it at the sight of me. Before I could say a word, she collapsed at my feet in a dead faint.