by Ray Gleason
Caesar let his speech sink in.
I heard later that Caesar could out-Cicero Cicero himself in a debate. This was the first evidence I had seen of it. Labienus was left speechless, as were we all. Caesar had already made up his mind on the issue.
Caesar then continued, “Let me propose this to you, gentlemen. I will send a message to Ariovistus. I will advise him that I am willing to confirm his status as king and ally of Rome on this side of the Rhenus under the following conditions . . . First, all German migration into Gaul must cease immediately . . . Second, he must send back all tribes that have joined him since he defeated the Aedui . . . Third, he must cease harassing the Sequani and the Aedui, who are now allied to Rome . . . Fourth, he must return all the hostages he has taken from the Aedui . . . If he refuses, I will enforce the will of Rome with my army . . . I think this will maintain the honor of Rome by reestablishing the conditions of our original agreement with him . . . Will that suffice?”
There was no response as we tried to digest all that Caesar had just offered.
So, Caesar continued, “There are two additional matters that I want you to consider. First, it is my policy to allow no German settlements west of the Rhenus. Allowing Ariovistus and the Suebii to remain would be an exception . . . One I am not totally comfortable with, but one I could live with . . . for now. Second, I do not expect Ariovistus to accept my terms. His German allies would tear him to shreds if he tried to send them back across the Rhenus. So, we are not waiting for his response. We will march east toward the Rhenus in the wake of my messengers. I want my army established in the Gate at Belfort when I receive Ariovistus’ refusal. Then, he will have to come to me, and I will be ready for him.”
This, I learned, was Caesar’s way of conducting a campaign: strategically aggressive, tactically defensive. Force the enemy to react, then engage them from a position of strength. Make them come to him in a position of his own choosing.
It seemed obvious to all in that room that the decision to advance on Ariovistus had been made. If, on my way out of the tent, I were to ask Ebrius to see a copy of Caesar’s message to Ariovistus, I was sure he could have produced it in triplicate: one copy for Ariovistus, one for the army file, and one for the state archives. Our job now was to make the plan work.
Caesar continued, “Caecina, prepare the orders for the legions to march in three days . . . That would be—”
“The sixth before the Kalends of September,” Caecina suggested.
“Yes,” Caesar agreed. “The day is fastus, propitious, is it not?”
Caecina nodded.
“Bene!” Caesar continued. “Assign the legates to the legions, same as they were against the Helvetii . . . Young Crassus will stay with the cavalry . . . Tell the haruspex of the Tenth Legion to perform the auguries tomorrow at dawn . . . Be sure he understands: I don’t care what he pulls out of the guts of his chickens . . . Unless Mars himself appears to me and orders me not to march, this army moves out in three days.”
Caecina was nodding as he took notes in a wax tabula.
Caesar continued, “We are not abandoning this position . . . Instruct the Eleventh and Twelfth Legions each to detail their Tenth Cohort to man this position . . . Place the broad striper from the Eleventh in command . . . What’s his name—”
“Licinius,” Labienus suggested, “Quintus Porcius Licinius.”
“No connection to Cato?” Caesar quizzed.
“No, Imperator . . . different branch of the gens Porcia altogether,” Labienus stated.
“Bene!” Caesar agreed, “Quintus Porcius Licinius it is then . . . Any questions, Caecina?”
“N’abeo, Imperator,” Caecina answered. “No, sir!”
“Bene!” Caesar nodded. “Put the warning order out to the senior centurions of each legion immediately . . . officers’ call here, tomorrow morning, third hour . . . We’ll give them the written order then . . . I imagine I’ll get an earful from the legionary officers then . . . eh, Labienus?”
Labienus shrugged, “They’re Romans. Once the decision is made, they’ll soldier up to it.”
“Bene,” Caesar agreed. “That brings us to you, Agrippa. What are the surveyors reporting about my supply lines from Massalia?”
Agrippa had to think on his feet. This was the first any of us had heard about Caesar’s ambitions on the Rhenus. Agrippa walked over to Caesar’s campaign map and began, “The surveyors are still working along the Rhonus, but they believe that it’s reasonably navigable from Massalia to Lugdunum of the Sequani.”
“Reasonably?” Caesar challenged.
Agrippa answered, “The natives tell us that the current in the river is so strong in the spring months that moving supply barges north may not be possible.”
“A road then?” Caesar prompted.
“A road then,” Agrippa repeated. “There is a well-traveled native road that runs along the south bank of the river to Lugdunum. This time of year it will support supply wagons moving north from the port at Massalia. For this campaign, we can move supply along the road to Lugdunum. There is no need to build another supply depot south of that location; Lugdunum is capable of supplying our current position here at Bibracte over land and our putative postion at Belfort through the valley of the Arar and the Dubis.”
Caesar was nodding. “What if Rome needs to make a long-term military commitment to eastern Gaul? Can I maintain troops north of the Rhonus throughout the winter?”
Caesar now had our complete attention. Wintering in Gaul!
Tracing with his finger over the map, Agrippa started, “We already have a via munita, a paved road, north from Massalia eighteen thousand passus to Aquis Sextus. There it connects to an east-west paved Roman road, which leads to the Rhonus at Arelato, another fifty-five thousand passus. From there we pick up the native road going north up the valley of the Rhonus. We believe it’s a via glareata, a gravel road, as far north as Avennione, say another eighteen thousand passus. From there, it’s a via terrena, a dirt road, all the way up to Lugdunum, about a hundred thirty thousand passus.”
“A hundred thirty thousand passus of dirt road,” Caesar repeated, staring at the blue line that represented the Rhonus on his map. “That’s six days for a legion. How long to get wagons up it?”
Agrippa did some quick math in his head: “In dry weather . . . thirteen . . . fourteen days from Avennione to Lugdunum . . . two days from Arelato to Avennione . . . Aquis Sextus to Arelato on the Roman road . . . two, maybe three days . . . Massalia to Aquis Sextus, a day. So, best case scaenario, about twenty days . . . We get some rain and the dirt road goes to mud . . . thirty days . . . Snow . . . I couldn’t guess.”
Caesar processed what Agrippa had told him, then asked, “How long by river?”
Agrippa replied, “Right now we have no way of trans-shipping from the docks at Massalia to river barges . . . In fact, we don’t have the river barges either . . . So, at least in the short term, river transport is not a viable alternative for us—”
Caesar interrupted, “The delta of the Rhonus is right across the bay from Massalia . . . Could we not send ships or barges directly across?”
“We could investigate that option,” Agrippa agreed. “But, I don’t know how far up the delta we could get our supply ships, if at all . . . We would still have to trans-ship at some point to river barges, and we simply do not have them.”
“So, for this campaign, we are dependent on the wagons and whatever your frumentarii, your grain-snatchers, can supply us with.”
That wasn’t a question, so Agrippa did not respond.
After a few heartbeats, Caesar said, “So, let’s finish our business on the Rhenus quickly, gentlemen, so we don’t outrun our supplies again. Good work, Agrippa! We shall have all winter to build a viable supply line from Massalia. It’s always good to keep soldiers busy . . . even in winter camp.”
A viable supply line to Lugdunum of the Sequani, I thought. Caesar plans to winter his army north of the Rhodonus in Gallia Comata, “Gaul of the L
ong-Hairs.”
“Again,” Caesar was saying, “you are my personal staff . . . m’i comites, my companions, so to speak . . . When we meet as a group, I want your honest and frank opinions, even if they don’t agree with mine . . . Also, we can do away with the military courtesies during our private discussions . . . You may address my as Caesar . . . We can argue all we like when we’re discussing matters . . . but once I have made a decision, discussion ends . . . As far as the army is concerned, it is our decision . . . Is that clear?”
“Liquet, Caesar!” we responded.
“Bene!” Caesar said. “You all have work to do, so this meet’s over . . . Gai, please remain . . . I have something to discuss with you . . . The rest of you . . . miss’est . . . you’re dismissed.”
When the rest of Caesar’s newly minted comites had filed out of the tent, Caesar walked over to his field desk. “Please, join me, Gai,” he invited.
“Adsum ti’, Patrone,” I responded rather stiffly.
“Relax,” Caesar said as he rummaged for something beside his desk. “I understand you had a birthday. . . The Ides of Quintilis, was it not . . . Your seventeenth?”
I was again amazed at Caesar’s attention to details, especially when it came to his soldiers.
“Yes, Patrone,” I agreed.
“Ah . . . here it is,” he said and hauled a clumsy bundle up onto his desk. “It’s a birthday gift from your mother.”
“Me’ mama!” I said, so surprised that I almost failed to catch the stack of tabulae Caesar upset when he plunked the bundle down.
“Yes . . . tu’ mama,” Caesar laughed.
“But, how?” I stammered.
Caesar shrugged, “When my couriers pass through Mediolanum, on their way back from Aquileia, I have them look in on your family. My man had a hell of a time balancing this piece of baggage on his horse . . . Well . . . are you going to open it or just stand there staring at it with your mouth hanging open?”
I untied the bundle to reveal a wheel of cheese—from our goats by the smell of it—a pair of new woolen socks, a sturdy-looking blue neck scarf, and a comb.
Caesar picked up the scarf. “Hardly regulation . . . but blue is the color of the patroness of my gens, Venus. And, please share that cheese with your mates . . . I can smell it from here.”
As if on cue, Ebrius, Caesar’s clerk, entered the cubiculum with a pitcher and two cups.
“Is that wine up to standard?” Caesar quipped.
“Right fitting for a birthday,” Ebrius winked and belched modestly.
“Bene,” Caesar responded, “put it down . . . uh.” Caesar realized that my birthday bundle just about covered his desk. He brushed a few more tabulae onto the floor, clearing a space. “Right there!”
Ebrius set the cups and pitcher down. From the way he swayed out of the tent, he had done more than just sample my birthday wine.
Caesar laughed, “I imagine I don’t have to worry about anyone poisoning my wine!” He handed me a brimming cup, lifted his cup, and said, “Happy Birthday, Gai!”
As I saluted him and drank, he said, “Ah . . . before I forget,” Caesar put down his cup and was again rummaging around behind his desk. He finally came up with a scroll and handed it to me, saying, “Happy Birthday . . . from me this time!”
For a second, I didn’t realize that I’d have to put down my cup to open the scroll. When my mind cleared enough to execute that little maneuver, I unrolled the scroll and read the first line of the first folio, “ . . . Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus’ son Achilleus.” It was a copy of the Iliad!
“Mille gratias, Patrone,” I stammered.
Caesar just held his hand up, “There’s also a copy of Homer’s other poem, Odyssey, on that scroll. You’ll have some time on your hands this winter, and it’s about time you found out how this thing ends. Besides, you have to learn how to speak proper Greek, the Koine. You never know . . . We may have to pay a visit to Alexandria one of these days.”
Finally, Caesar handed me a rolled piece of papyrus tied with a red ribbon.
“More?” I sputtered.
“A letter from tu’ mama,” Caesar mocked me gently. “The red ribbon is for your birthday. Now, I’m sure you want to read what tu’ mama has to say, so get yourself and this bloody cheese out of my tent before a rumor starts that I’m sharing my cot with a goat!”
Valeria Helvetia Minor, Matrona, to her son, Gaius Marius Insubrecus, Decurio, on his seventeenth birthday, salutem plurimam dicit!
I hope this letter finds you in good health and in the good graces of Bona Fortuna Dea. May the good goddess hold you close to her bosom, as I cannot.
I can hardly believe that it has only been a year since we celebrated your last birthday here at home. Your father and I prosper, as does your brother, Lucius.
Your father was afflicted with the coughing sickness this winter, but I sacrificed a hen to Apollo and offered a pitcher of wine to Vediovis for his recovery. Now, he thrives, dis multissimas gratias! Your brother, Lucius, has become infatuated with my maid Amanda. I am not encouraging this pairing. I’m sure I could find a better match for your brother among the Roman community in Mediolanum, but as I’m sure you understand, who can reason with a young man who thinks he’s in love?
Our farm continues to sustain us. Mother Ceres, lauda nomen suum, has been kind to us. The weather since the feast of Cerealia has been warm, with a perfect mix of rain and sunshine. So, this year’s crop promises to be bountiful. We also have great hopes for the vines, which we planted last year with the help of your friend Macro.
I may have some bad news about Macro. He seems to have disappeared from the estate of the consul, Aulus Gabinius. We have heard rumors. One puts him with Gabinius’s familia in Rome, but another reports that he has been put out on the road for his role in shielding you from the consul’s retribution.
We received a strange message from him in early spring through a woman named Rufia, who lives in Mediolanum. It was delivered by her slave, a giant of a man, a German, I think, who did not seem at all pleased to be acting as a courier. The message said that Macro was safe, but it gave no specifics about where he had gone. Also, this Rufia claims that she also knows you! She sends you her best wishes! I cannot imagine what she means or how she knows you. I asked your father about this, but he seemed most reluctant to discuss it. Since he was still recovering from his winter illness, I did not press him. But, I am determined to get to the bottom of this mystery! Rufia, indeed!
Caesar Patronus has been most kind to us. He wrote saying that you are now a member of his staff, his ad manum, as a matter of fact. He has kindly invited me to use his military couriers to carry my correspondence to you, and I took advantage of his kindness to send a small parcel of gifts for your birthday. Caesar also sent us a diploma declaring our family and farm “Caesari in fidem,” under the protection of gens Iulia. He assured us that he expects no repercussions from that horrible misunderstanding with the consul, which sent you away from us.
Your Avus Lucius continues to prosper. He has stepped in and organized a syndicate for the wine enterprise since Macro has departed. He is in fidem with the consul himself, so we are confident that there will be no further interference. He believes that we will have a vintage within three years, and after I told him of your relationship with Caesar, he assures me that there will be a place for you in the organization when you leave the army.
We have heard reports that there has been a terrible battle with the barbarians in Gaul, but Roman arms have prevailed. Although we are thankful for the protection of Caesar and our armies, we think of you always.
To Deva Cornisca, Diana Fida, and with both hands on your bulla praetexta, which hangs always at my bosom, I offer daily prayers for the protection of my child.
Di te incolumem semper custodiant! May the gods safeguard you always!
VIII.
De Legatione Caesaris Ad Ariovistum
CAESAR’S EMBASSY TO ARIOVISTUS
Quam ob
rem placuit ei ut ad Ariovistum legatos mitteret qui ab eo postularent uti aliquem locum medium utrisque conloquio deligeret velle sese de re publica et summis utriusque rebus cum eo agere ei legationi Ariovistus respondit si quid ipsi a Caesare opus esset sese ad eum venturum fuisse si quid ille se velit illum ad se venire oportere.
“Because of this situation, Caesar thought it appropriate to send envoys to Ariovistus. The envoys requested that Ariovistus meet with Caesar at some neutral location of Ariovistus’ choosing for a consultation between the two of them. They said that Caesar desired to talk to him concerning the interests of the state and of matters of the greatest importance to them both. Ariovistus answered the envoys that if he had wanted anything from Caesar, he would have come to Caesar. If Caesar wants anything from Ariovistus, Caesar must come to Ariovistus.”
(from Gaius Marius Insubrecus’ notebook of Caesar’s journal)
When I read mama’s letter, I was glad not to be in my father’s boots when she pressed him about Rufia. In fact, I was a bit intrigued at my father knowing anything about Rufia. Some things are best left undiscovered.
I carried mama’s goat cheese over to the mess tent, better to bring it there than to stash it in my tent. I’m sure after one whiff, my tentmates would have tossed it, and perhaps me, out onto the camp street. The cooks were not too sure what to do with the cheese, but neither were they inclined to refuse an odiferous gift offered by a decurio wearing a praetorian sash.
I was walking back to my quarters, up the via principalis, when I almost literally ran into my former contubernalis, a mate from my basic training squad, Felix. I didn’t recognize him at first because of the raw, red scar that ran from just below his jaw up past his right eye. He didn’t recognize me because, like most muli, he only saw my sash of office.
“Good afternoon, Decurio,” he started. Then, “Pagane! Is that you?”
“Felix!” I responded, almost equally surprised. “What happened—” But, I stopped myself. I knew damned well what had happened.