by R. W. Peake
Unlike many men, I took no pleasure in inflicting pain; it was a tool to get what I wanted, nothing more. Perhaps this is what Diocles calls a rationalization but it makes it no less true.
“I need you to tell the Centurions what you told me, that's all.”
Publius the man had long since disappeared. All that was left was a creature eager to please me, so he repeated everything he had told me. He was somewhat hard to understand, between his swollen lips and the rest of the teeth he had managed to keep now missing, but he was clear enough that there was no doubt that Fuscus and Sertorius understood him. Once he was finished, his head dropped to his chest as he passed out from the effort.
I looked at the two men, studying their expressions. “Are you satisfied now?”
Fuscus looked relieved, while Sertorius’ expression was harder to read, yet they both answered that they had heard enough.
“Now, I'm going to arrest Cornuficius and I need you both to be there as witnesses, and Fuscus, I'll need you as a witness at his questioning.”
They were clearly uncomfortable, but they both agreed to come with me, not that it was an option. Diocles had gone to the provost to arrange for a detachment of men to accompany us, and we met them outside the headquarters building. Marching to the camp, we were passed through the Porta Praetoria, with me leading the small procession directly to Cornuficius’ tent. Rousing his startled and very scared slave, I pushed him through the flap separating the Century office from Cornuficius’ private quarters and I wish I could say that I was not enjoying the moment immensely. He was asleep, but at the commotion, he reached for his sword immediately, causing me to put my hand on my own, though I cannot fault him for his reaction, because I would have done the same thing.
“Decimus Pilus Posterior Gaius Cornuficius, you are under arrest for the murder of Joseph of Gaza,” I announced in my official tone, trying but probably not succeeding to avoid sounding triumphant.
He blinked in confusion, then seeing Fuscus and Sertorius, I saw for the first time the real Cornuficius, his lips curling in contempt at the sight of his Primus Pilus. For a moment, I thought he was going to resist as his fingers curled more tightly around the handle of his sword. However, I think he saw the eagerness in my eyes, so he slowly relaxed his hold.
“I don't know what you're talking about, Primus Pilus, but I'm anxious to get this matter cleared up,” he said with a trace of his old smoothness.
“I'm sure you are, Pilus Posterior,” I responded. “So let’s not delay any further. Please get dressed.”
He clearly thought that he was going to be given his privacy to do so, but while I was willing to stand out in the outer office, I ordered two of the provosts to stand watch over him. This clearly made him angry, though I do not know whether it was because of the insult or that he had planned on making a getaway. Either way, he was ready in a few moments, dressed in his full uniform; certainly that was his right, yet it did not make any difference to me. He was being led away under guard no matter what, and I wish I could say that I was not so petty that I was willing to take him quietly. I was not, making enough racket to rouse the dead, or at least the sleeping Gregarii of the 6th Legion. Marching through the camp, men were awakened by the sound of our hobnail boots and to the sight of Cornuficius being marched, clearly under guard, to whatever fate awaited him. What the men did not know was that Cornuficius’ future could be measured by watches, and that those watches were going to be filled with more pain than even he could imagine.
~ ~ ~ ~
I had Publius removed from the interrogation room, though I took pains to make sure that the signs of his interrogation were not washed away, the pool of blood around the chair plainly visible. Cornuficius walked into the room, stopping suddenly when he saw the chair and gore around it. The two men from the torture detachment pointed for him to sit down when I shoved him forward. For a moment, I thought he would try to resist, but I think he knew I would welcome it, so he obeyed my order to strip down to just his tunic before walking stiffly to the chair and taking a seat. He watched me intently when I leaned over to tie him down to the chair, but he did not struggle, nor did he speak. Once he was secure, I stepped away then motioned to Diocles, who was standing with a wax tablet and stylus, waiting to dictate.
“I've told you why you've been arrested, Cornuficius. Let me now explain what the evidence is that led us to you, and who gave it.”
“I’m most anxious to hear who has lied about me, Primus Pilus.”
I have to say that he was remarkably composed.
“Unfortunately for you, Cornuficius, I have no reason to doubt what I've been told so far and I believe that Caesar will find it credible as well.” His face remained expressionless and I wondered how long before his composure cracked and if it would take physical means to make it happen. “Gregarius Publius has confessed to killing Joseph of Gaza on your orders, then disposing of his body according to your instructions, including decapitating him and feeding his head to some pigs.”
I cannot swear to this, but I believe that I saw a ghost of a smile cross his lips at the mention of the pigs.
“Gregarius Publius is lying,” he said calmly.
I nodded; I had expected him to say as much. “And why would he lie about his Centurion?”
He shrugged, or at least made an attempt to do so, despite how tightly bound he was. “Why does any ranker hate his Centurion? I've been riding him hard lately and he’s been on the punishment list quite a bit. I’m sure that has something to do with it.”
“That’s a lie,” Fuscus burst out. I looked at him in surprise and not a little irritation. “I haven’t seen his name on any list you’ve submitted one time. Publius clings to you like a fly does to honey; he’s your man, bought and paid, and always has been,” Fuscus almost shouted.
I chose not to reprimand Fuscus for speaking, curious to see how Cornuficius would react, and he looked at Fuscus with utter contempt, making no attempt to hide it in his voice as he replied scornfully, “As any good Pilus Prior would know, there are two kinds of lists; one that you see and one that only I know about. I'm referring to the unofficial list, but I guess it’s too much to expect you would know about that.”
What Cornuficius was saying was true, as I well knew. There were matters of discipline that remained completely within a Century, never making it into the Legion diary, because anything that is reported to the Pilus Prior of a Cohort has to be entered into the official record. The reality is that for every entry of punishment that makes it in the Legion diary there are perhaps nine or ten that do not, instead being handled by the Centurion in about any matter that he saw fit. I looked over at Fuscus, whose face was bright red, his body shaking with rage, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Cornuficius, who was staring right back. It was clear that the hatred between the two had been there for some time, but it was not something I could concern myself with now.
“I don’t think that you’re really in a good position to be insolent to your commanding officer, Cornuficius. Apologize to Fuscus for your words and your tone.”
Cornuficius looked at me in disbelief then gave a short, harsh laugh. “Or what, Primus Pilus? You're going to beat me?”
“You know how this works, Cornuficius. You're about to be interrogated. That means you’re going to get a beating no matter what. What you do have some control over is whether I have these men continue on you after I get what I need from you.”
He said nothing for a moment, staring into my eyes. Looking away, he said tonelessly, “I apologize for my words, Pilus Prior. I meant no disrespect. But that doesn't change the fact that Publius is lying.”
“Well, then you have nothing to worry about, other than a few bumps and bruises,” I said conversationally.
Turning to the men, I told them to make themselves ready, and they began wrapping their hands in fresh linen bandages, arraying the tools of their trade in front of Cornuficius, but I did not give them the order to begin. The truth was
that I was stalling, waiting for something that I hoped would speed up Cornuficius’ confession because I knew Caesar would awaken soon and be expecting the matter to be resolved.
~ ~ ~ ~
Finally, I was about to signal the men to start, not wanting to delay any longer when there was a commotion outside. Telling them to wait, I signaled for Fuscus, Sertorius, and Diocles to follow me out of the room, where two men stood shaking in fear, surrounded by the provosts. Genusius and Larius were the two men that Publius had admitted going with him to murder Joseph, although I think it did do some credit to Publius that even under torture, he refused to implicate the two in anything more than helping him dispose of the body. I told the provosts to bring the men over to the cell where Publius had been dumped, waiting for execution. He was unconscious but I did not need him awake; I believed just the sight of his battered, broken hulk would loosen their tongues. Faced with that sight, I heard their groans of dismay, then one of them whispered to the other before the provosts led them back to where we were standing. My face was set in stone as I stared at them, pointing back to where Publius lay.
“He's already told us everything. I know what part you both played. What I want to know now is what each of you knows about who told Publius to do this.”
The words came tumbling out of their mouths, both of them babbling so hysterically that I was forced to bark at them to shut up. I turned to Genusius first, motioning for him to talk. His mouth worked several times before anything came out and I remember thinking that first I could not get them to shut up, but now I could not get them to speak. Finally, he stammered out what he knew, which was not much more than what Publius had told him, that Cornuficius told Publius to kill Joseph and dispose of the body. Turning to Larius, he reiterated what Genusius said, but then added something that I made him repeat.
“Publius said that Cornuficius had been cheated by this Joseph of Gaza, that he was as sure that the Jew was playing with loaded dice as he was of anything in his life.”
I pondered this. While it would not make any difference ultimately, it did make me curious so I ordered the two men to be held in the cell adjacent to Publius.
Motioning to Diocles, when he came to me I asked him, “Did you get all that?”
He nodded, waving the wax tablet as I looked to Sertorius and Fuscus, and while they both nodded that they had heard, their faces looked troubled as they glanced at each other.
“Well?” I snapped, knowing what was bothering them. “What’s on your mind?”
Fuscus spoke, and I could see he did so reluctantly. After the initial shock of seeing Cornuficius arrested, I think he had started to like the idea of having him removed, but his hatred of Cornuficius was not enough to stop raising questions in his mind.
“What if it’s true?” he asked worriedly. “What if this Jew did cheat Cornuficius?”
Before I answered I looked to Sertorius, who added, “That would make things different, wouldn’t it, Primus Pilus?”
I rubbed my face, thinking about it; as much as I hated to admit it, they were right.
Thinking it through, I finally shook my head. “Not really. If Cornuficius was cheated, then he knew the proper channels to go through. And now it’s too late, anyway. The Jews won’t be satisfied with anything less than his death.”
“Who are the Jews to tell us what we do with one of our own?” Sertorius asked angrily. “Especially if what Larius said is true and that Cornuficius was cheated by the bastard?”
Sighing, I shook my head again. “It doesn’t matter anymore. But, let’s at least go see what Cornuficius has to say.”
~ ~ ~ ~
I had Diocles read what he had recorded from Larius and Genusius to Cornuficius, who listened impassively. When Diocles reached the part about Cornuficius being cheated, his face changed, a fleeting look of hope animating his features. One look at me extinguished it almost as quickly as it had come.
“And none of that matters,” he said bitterly.
“No, it doesn't,” I replied, not seeing any point to lie to him, even if I had been so inclined. “But tell us your version anyway. Perhaps Caesar will be feeling generous.”
“Caesar may feel as generous as he likes, but if you speak against me, what chance do I have?”
I regarded him for several moments, neither of us aware of anyone else in the room. I honestly do not know if this moment were to occur now if I would behave the same way. The years have a way of banking the fires of passion and rage in a man so that they barely smolder in the last years of his life. Perhaps it is a way to make the days of one’s life longer, for I believe that when the flames in your soul burn bright and hot that it consumes your essence much more quickly; your flame may burn bright in this life, but it extinguishes earlier.
Finally, I spoke, my voice cold. “You have no chance, Cornuficius. None at all. I once asked you if I was going to have to kill you and as I recall, you said ‘Not yet,’ or something to that effect. Well, I suppose we've arrived at that moment where I must kill you in order to keep the 6th strong and effective. You've been undermining Fuscus for too long. I know all about what happened in the camp on the Nile, that you refused to obey not just his orders, but mine as well, since I was the one who gave them to Fuscus in the first place.”
“So you’re going to kill me because of his weakness?” Cornuficius sneered.
I could not deny that there was a grain of truth in what he said. Fuscus was indeed a weak man, weaker at least than Cornuficius, but he was still the legally appointed commander of the Cohort.
“No. First, I'm not going to kill you, at least not myself. As much as I may want to, that's not my place. I'm going to see you executed, but not before you confess that you ordered Publius to murder Joseph of Gaza, and that's the real reason you must die, not because of Fuscus.”
I glanced at Fuscus as I talked, trying to gauge his reaction to Cornuficius’ lacerating scorn. He was indeed shaking with rage, but he said nothing when I was finished.
“So, if I don't confess, then I'll live?”
It was a feeble joke, but I finally saw a hint of desperation in Cornuficius. His eyes kept shooting over to the two men who would be responsible for extracting his confession, standing impassively against the wall, acting like this whole thing was boring. I suppose it was to them; I did not want to think about all the things they had done and seen over the years.
“You will confess, Cornuficius,” I replied quietly. “Even if you didn’t do it, you'd confess by the time they're through and you know it.”
Suddenly, his body slumped, his head dropping to his chest as he closed his eyes tightly, muttering something to himself that I could not make out. At length, he raised his head, and I saw a man for whom all hope was extinguished, who knew that he had come to the end of his road. Despite myself, I felt a twinge of pity.
“He was cheating me.” He said it quietly, but it was silent in the room so we heard him clearly.
“How do you know?”
He looked sharply up at me, his mouth twisted in a bitter grimace, then gave a cough that I guessed was a laugh. “How does any cheat know he’s being taken? It takes one to know one, I suppose. He was playing with loaded dice.”
“Then why didn’t you call him on it and expose him?” Fuscus asked.
Cornuficius may have realized he was through, but that did not mean that he had any greater regard for Fuscus, the sneer briefly returning as he gave Fuscus a withering look. “If I could have, don’t you think I would have? He was too good, too clever.”
His mouth turned down into a grimace that spoke of the bitterness that comes to a man who has always thought he was the cleverest, but discovers that there is always someone better down the road, waiting for you. I knew then that this is a truth that extends to all things, that if I continued in the army, and continued to march for Rome, that one day I would run into that man who was better than I was. On that day, my life would end, but I still had such a belief in myself that I thought
that there was a possibility that I was truly the best that lived during my time. Such is the vanity of youth. Now I was watching a man who was being forced to confront the reality that he had been bested at a game that he thought he owned, and I could see it was a bitter drink for Cornuficius indeed.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the end, Cornuficius confessed everything, without being tortured. If he were a slave of course, his confession would not have been valid unless he was tortured, something I never saw the sense in, but that has been the law since long before I was born and will be so long after I die. Caesar arrived at headquarters shortly after dawn, as was his normal custom, with Antipater and ben-Judah, along with a small group of other Jews who were not present at our first meeting arriving shortly thereafter. This was when I learned of Jews and their particular obsession about pigs. They had recovered Joseph’s remains, or what was left of them and they were clearly enraged. I handed Caesar the wax tablets containing the accounts of Publius, Genusius, and Larius, along with the signed confession of Cornuficius, which he read impassively, not bothering with the others’ testimony. He did raise an eyebrow at one point, shooting me a questioning look.
Turning so that the others could not overhear, he asked me, “Do you believe what Cornuficius says? About being cheated?”
As easy as it would have been simply to say “no,” I suppose that there is enough of an honest and fair man inside of me that prevented me from doing so.
More importantly, I knew that it would not really matter. “Yes, I do believe him. I think that Joseph was just better at cheating than Cornuficius and that made him angrier than losing the money.”
He considered what I had said then nodded, handing me back the tablet as he turned to address the Jews.
“We have a signed confession from Decimus Pilus Posterior Cornuficius admitting to ordering one of his men to murder Joseph of Gaza and dispose of his body. He will be executed immediately, according to the rules and regulations of the Roman army.”