Marching With Caesar – Civil War mwc-2

by R. W. Peake

  Torquatus waved a hand to reply, “I know that. The truth is I'm happy that you’re taking over the 10th. Too much has happened with these men. I'd rather start off with a new bunch of fresh meat that I can mold into what I want. These bastards are too hard-headed now.” Suddenly realizing the exact import of his words, Torquatus gave me a look of embarrassment. “Sorry, Pullus, I don’t mean to make it sound so grim for you. But the truth is I’m not hard enough for this bunch, and I suspect you are.” He leaned forward, staring intently into my eyes. "I know we’ve never been friends exactly, but know that what I'm about to say isn't meant in any way as an insult to you. All right?”

  I nodded that I understood.

  “It’s just that everyone knows how ambitious you are, and that you'll do whatever needs to be done to advance your career. I think that’s why Caesar picked you, because he knows that the 10th needs a firmer hand than I can provide right now. The problem with me is that, between you and me, I agree with the men. I think that we’ve been given the cac end of the sponge by Caesar, and that he owes us and should pay us what he owes us. Now, not tomorrow.”

  “I agree that Caesar owes the men,” I said cautiously, thinking back to my conversation with Apollonius, where I had told him essentially the same thing, if not in quite such blunt terms.

  “Yes, but would that stop you from enforcing Caesar’s will?”

  I shook my head, causing Torquatus to slam his hand down on the table, making me jump. “Exactly! You'd still do whatever Caesar ordered, whether you agreed with it or not. I saw it that day at Pharsalus when you almost cut Domitius in half. I could never have done that, and I know it.”

  I knew that he was trying to compliment me, yet it certainly did not feel complimentary, when put the way Torquatus had. I did not know what to say, so I just mumbled something about duty and such, then took a long drink of wine.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The next morning before formation, I had a case of nerves that was perilously close to those I felt right before battle. I should have felt like I was coming home, but that was not the case, at least not on this morning. Taking extra pains to make sure my awards and decorations were polished to a high gleaming finish, I cursed the absence of Diocles who normally took care of these things for me. Finally, I knew I could delay no longer, and I left my tent to march to the forum, where the 10th, or what remained of them, were waiting, where I saw they were turned out in full uniforms as well. I have to say I was pleased with what I saw, thinking that at least they had made the effort to impress me. Marching to the head of the formation, my eyes traveled over the faces of so many friends, men I had known for half of my life and one that I had known almost all of it. Vibius was standing in his spot as Optio of the First Century of the Second Cohort, his face showing nothing. Scribonius gave me a slight smile and tip of the head, which I returned. I could not see any of the other Centurions of the Second, being lined up behind the First Century as they were, but I would meet with them soon enough. In the ranks, I saw men that I had fought and bled beside, men with whom I had quarreled and men with whom I had spent watch upon watch talking to about all manner of things. In most of their faces I saw what I like to think of as welcome and happiness that one of their own had returned to lead them. Vellusius was positively beaming from ear to ear, while even Didius was looking at me with a grimace that was his version of a smile. The one strange thing about that formation is that I have no recollection of what I said, except in a very general sense, that I was happy to be back and that I expected great things of the 10th that would add more honors to the Legion. I do remember I made no mention of what had happened between Caesar and them, as a message that I did not plan on holding that against them and that we were starting over fresh. Dismissing the men, I then called for a meeting of the Pili Priores to meet in my tent immediately after the formation.

  The men arrived, filing into my private quarters where we all shook hands. Each man offered his congratulations, and in some cases, they were sincere. Scribonius, I hugged, kissing him on both cheeks, something I did not normally do, but I was extremely happy to see a friendly face. These men were the best from each Cohort, yet like any group of men, there were those who were stronger than others. What I found comforting was that unlike my introduction with the 6th, I was not walking in cold, because I knew these men. Even if I had not served in the same Cohort with them, men talk about their Centurions, meaning I knew more about each of these men than I had any of the Centurions of the 6th. Of course, there was Scribonius, his command of the Second Cohort solidified and no longer questioned, at least according to Torquatus. The Third Cohort was commanded by Titus Camillus, who had been the Tertius Pilus Prior since before I had been an Optio. He was a good, solid man though he had never expressed any desire to advance to the next grade of Centurion and up into the Second Cohort. The Fourth Cohort was led by Spurius Maecius, who had followed the more traditional route for promotion, climbing from the Tenth to his present position in the Fourth. The Quincus Pilus Prior was Decimus Velinus, a compact, muscular Gadean who was one of the veterans salted into the 10th when we were formed up, making him a bit older than the rest of the other Centurions. The Sixth’s Centurion was Lucius Horatius, and of all the Pili Priores he was the one I was most concerned with. He had a reputation for brutality with his men, leading more from fear than from admiration, a trait that I despised. The Seventh Cohort was led by Gnaeus Fabius, another older man, but he was part of the original enlistment, joining at around twenty-four or twenty-five, and was capable, if a bit unimaginative, the kind of leader I would call a plodder. Nonetheless, he was dependable and that counted for much, particularly at this point in time. The Eighth’s Pilus Prior was Quintus Falernus, and he was another man I was worried about, but for different reasons than Horatius. He was a sharp dealer, in much the same way as the departed Longus had been, seeing his men as an extra source of income, over and above what was customary and normal for a Centurion. The Ninth was commanded by Publius Sabatinus, and I would say he was from the same mold as Scribonius and in fact, they had become close friends. He was our age, and I had my eye on him as someone who had the abilities to become a Primus Pilus someday. Finally, there was the 10th, led by Vibius Esquilinus, another younger man who was part of our original enlistment and had not been in the Centurionate long, less than two years, but was a solid man and a capable leader. These were the men who I would be relying on and who I also needed to learn more about. Specifically, I needed to find out who had been involved in the business on the Campus Martius, but that would come later. Each of them gave me a brief report on their Cohort; number of men currently on the sick list, on punishment, and total number of effectives. The numbers were disheartening, to say the least, the 10th having been whittled down to less than half strength by this time. Illness had been particularly savage to the men, but that was to be expected from life in camp. I believe I have mentioned that whenever we were in one place for an extended period of time, the rate of illness would go up dramatically, something I have developed my own theories about and had long since enforced in my own command. Now that I was in control of the whole Legion, I was eager to put those measures into effect to see if it would help on a larger scale. The meeting ended with a toast to the health of the Legion, and to success in the coming operation, which I promised to give more details about once I learned them myself. With that, the Pili Priores were dismissed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The next meeting was with the Centurions of the First Cohort, and I held it immediately after the first, sending for the men while scribbling some notes on things that needed to be done based on what I had been told by the Pili Priores. It was quickly becoming obvious that this was going to be a massive job, much more challenging than handling the two Cohorts of the 6th, and that I would be relying on the Pili Priores much more heavily than I had initially thought. The next group of Centurions arrived, requesting entrance, and I waved them in, whereupon we went through the same rituals of greeting
and welcome, each of the men formally offering their congratulations on my promotion. Quickly recognizing that if I wanted to get any work done that day, I decided I was going to have to start watering my wine, my head getting a little thick. The Centurions of the First Cohort sat, looking expectantly at me, but before I said anything, I took a quick stock of the men sitting before me. Pilus Posterior was Marcus Glaxus, who had, at some point in the past, been Torquatus’ Optio before he was promoted to the Centurionate, and Torquatus spoke highly of the man. Glaxus had a calm, capable demeanor that I hoped boded well for our service together. The Princeps Prior was Balbus, who I have already described, and who sat looking calmly at me, his arms folded as I wondered what was going on behind the mask that was his face. Princeps Posterior Servius Arrianus was a slender piece of chewed leather, his face marred by a scar that ran underneath his mouth, running almost ear to ear, giving him a leering expression. However, he was anything but a jokester, having a reputation as one of the most courageous men in the Legion. Hastatus Prior Servius Metellus, a squat, barrel-chested man originally from Narbonese Gaul, sat looking decidedly nervous, making me wonder if he was one of the men I had to keep an eye on. Finally, the Hastatus Posterior was Gaius Varus, an exceedingly ugly man almost completely covered in dark, coarse black hair, with a thick set of eyebrows that met in the middle of his forehead, making it look like he had one single eyebrow instead of two. He was so singularly unattractive that I had to force myself to keep from staring at him, instead turning my attention back to the wax tablet sitting on my desk, pretending to study it. Finally composed, I began speaking, using the same speech that I had used with the Pili Priores, before asking each of them for a report on their Century. The news was even grimmer for the First Cohort than it had been for the rest of the Legion, since the First Cohort traditionally is one of the first, if not the first into battle, because of its position on the front line. Also, the First is where the Legion eagle is carried, and is always the focal point of an enemy trying to get to it to take it as a prize and as a way to destroy our fighting spirit. Once I received their reports, I answered their questions, all of which had to do with the coming campaign in Africa before dismissing them, while asking Balbus to stay behind. He stood waiting for the others to leave, and I watched carefully as the men filing out shot him glances, trying to see if there were any whispered warnings or conspiratorial looks between them as they left. Balbus remained standing, then once the men had left, I waved him to sit back down, which he did warily, once again his face revealing none of his thoughts.

  I swallowed my irritation, forcing to keep my tone light. “So, Balbus, how have things been?”

  The instant I spoke the words I almost openly winced, knowing how transparent they sounded.

  Balbus’ mouth quirked, while he replied, “Things have been eventful, Primus Pilus, but I don’t believe that's why you asked me to stay behind.”

  “No, you're right, Balbus. That is indeed not why I asked you to stay behind. I apologize for phrasing things so awkwardly.” I sighed, realizing then I was not really sure why I had asked him to stay behind. Finally, I leaned forward, struck by a sudden urge to be as candid as possible. “The reason I want to talk to you is because I want to tell you that if I were to listen to Torquatus, your time in the Legion would be coming to an end. I’m sure you know that one of the things that Caesar demands is utmost loyalty of his Centurions and after what happened on the Campus Martius, he doesn't know who to trust. All it would take is a word from me that you're one who can't be trusted, and if I were to go by what Torquatus had told me about you, I'd be sending word to Caesar now. But the thing is, I don’t really believe Torquatus, though I don’t know why. That’s why I wanted to talk to you I suppose, to hear what you have to say.”

  He regarded me levelly, his face still composed and unreadable. “About what, exactly?”

  I threw my hands up in exasperation. “About what? About what I've just said.”

  “I see. So you want to know if I can be trusted?”

  When put that way, I realized how ludicrous what I said sounded. If he were involved in the mutiny on the Campus, he was unlikely to tell me, instead telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. I realized that I was dealing with a man of exceptional qualities, with none of the shiftiness of Cornuficius.

  Deciding to start over, I began again. “When you put it that way, I can see how ridiculous a question it is, I suppose. No, I don’t want to know if you can be trusted, I'm going to decide that for myself. But it’s just that I think there's more behind what Torquatus has told me and I want to hear your side of it, that’s all. Before I make any judgments, I need to hear as much of the story as I can.”

  Now for the first time, Balbus looked decidedly less composed, almost uncomfortable, shifting in his chair, then looking down at the ground, the first time he had broken his gaze on me, and I could see that he was struggling with something. I had long since learned that as hard as it may be, the best thing to do in these circumstances is to wait for the other to speak, so I sat fiddling with my stylus.

  Finally, he took a deep breath, looked at me, then said, “Very well. I'll tell you why Torquatus hates me so.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The affairs of men are such a mess sometimes. I remember Caesar saying that great events result from trivial causes, and that was certainly the case with what had taken place between Torquatus and Balbus. As Balbus told his story, I was also struck by an uncomfortable feeling of my own, like I was hearing a tale that I had heard before. In fact, it was a story that I had lived and after hearing it, it left me sitting up that night, thinking. Torquatus and Balbus were lifelong friends, cousins in fact, their mothers being sisters, and had joined the Legions together. They had been inseparable companions, marching first in Pompey’s Legions before volunteering to come over to the 10th in exchange for both being promoted to Sergeants. Of course this meant that they could not be in the same tent like they had been, yet they remained close. They ascended the ranks at roughly the same time, and it was at the end of the campaign in Gaul, when the 10th spent time in garrison and Caesar used the other Legions quelling the various rebellions that the trouble began. Freed of the constant worry of marching, fighting, and all that goes with it, both men decided that it was time to turn to matters of the heart, seeing that it looked very much like we were going to be staying in place for a while, which was true. As nearly as I could figure out, about the same time I took up with Gisela, Balbus and Torquatus fell in love, which is a wonderful thing, except when it is with the same woman. Nonetheless, in all forms of combat, there can only be one victor and in this case, it was Torquatus, or so Torquatus thought. The maid in question became Torquatus’ woman, and for several months, things seemed to be all right. Balbus had smarted from the defeat but said that he had gotten over it. Then, Torquatus’ father had died, so he had taken leave to go home, whereupon he asked Balbus to watch over his woman, something that Balbus did to such a degree that you can imagine what happened.

  As Balbus talked of this, he had the grace to look somewhat guilty, giving a rueful grin. “In all honesty, I had gotten over her at that point, but when she offered herself, what was I supposed to do?” he said.

  When put that way, it was a hard point to argue. If it had been just a short-term affair, while Torquatus was gone, that would have been one thing, and it would have been one of those secrets between men and women that many take to the grave with them. However, if there is anything as mysterious and complicated as a woman’s heart, I hope never to run into it. According to Balbus, the result of the affair was twofold; the woman decided she had made a mistake in choosing Torquatus, then had gotten herself pregnant. Now, she could not live without Balbus, yet the fact that Balbus no longer had those kinds of feelings for her and told her as much did not seem to deter her from declaring to Torquatus her undying love for Balbus. In this, I had to sympathize with Torquatus, imagining what it would have been like to come back to the Legion, expect
ing your best friend and woman to be waiting for you, never suspecting either of them of treachery. Perhaps from the woman, for they are fickle creatures, but never that kind of betrayal from a man as close to you as your brother. There I go being naïve again, I suppose. As one can imagine, her revelation put an unbearable strain on the friendship between the two men, a rift that was still unrepaired to that day in my tent as Balbus told me about it.

  “I tried everything I could to make amends to Torquatus, but he's never forgiven me,” Balbus said morosely.

  “What happened to the woman?”

  “She died trying to bear my child.” Balbus took a deep drink from his wine cup.

  Setting it down, he looked at me, and I could see the sadness and pain in his eyes, making me wonder what the main cause of it was, the betrayal of his friend, or the death of a woman who was bearing his child. Both, I suppose.

  “So, Primus Pilus, that's the cause of the rift between Torquatus and me, and why he hates me so much. I really can’t blame him. I have hopes that being sent to another Legion may make things easier for both of us.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” I had not planned on saying anything, but as usual, the numen inside me took over. “Although it’s from a different cause, your story sounds similar to my own, and the time I was away with the 6th did nothing to make things any easier.”

  “You’re talking about Domitius, I presume?”

  I nodded.

  “He’s a good man,” Balbus said quietly.

  “As is Torquatus,” I replied.

  With that, we toasted each other, men who for different reasons had suffered the same result, the loss of their nearest and dearest friend, not to a blade but to affairs of the human heart.