by R. W. Peake
“At least the ground will be soft,” Cartufenus said as we left the tent, pulling our cloaks up to try to block out as much of the water that was coming down so hard that one would think that the gods were simply dumping a bucket on our heads.
“If it keeps up like this, we won’t be able to dig anything without it collapsing,” I grumbled.
“I was trying to look on the bright side,” he retorted.
We parted, heading back to our respective areas of camp, neither of us looking forward to the next day.
~ ~ ~ ~
The rain did not let up. Since we had not marched with our tents, leaving them behind at the camp in Ruspina, the men were forced to create makeshift shelters using their cloaks, fastened together in whatever manner they thought worked the best. When the weather was clear, it was fine, but now with rain, then occasional hail, falling without letup, the misery of the men was manifest. Regardless, we went out, doing our work extending the trench as Caesar had instructed, the men coming back covered in the sticky mud, then cleaning themselves by simply stripping down while standing shivering as the rain washed them clean. Cleaning their gear was not so simply done. In recognition of the conditions, I suspended inspections, knowing that we would have the whole Legion, or the part that was here on the punishment list, which would only further damage morale. The conditions were so bad, that men resorted to using their shields, with the covers on of course, holding them above their heads as they struggled through the mud of the camp. It was in this manner that we passed the next several days, neither side making a move. Because of the rain, we could not finish the earthworks that Caesar had deemed necessary, so there was nothing for the men to do but sit huddled under their makeshift tents and talk, and men with time on their hands fill it by gossiping about whatever situation in which they find themselves. That usually means trouble for the officers. In this case, the topic was Juba’s approaching army, which was supposedly very close, in the men’s minds becoming larger and more formidable as each day passed. The men talked about not just the elephants; the defeat of Curio at Juba’s hands had built the Numidian king up into a formidable adversary while no amount of persuasion on the part of the Centurions seemed to sway the men back to the belief in themselves that is so crucial to winning. The rain picked up in intensity to the point that one night we could not even have our fires, forcing us to eat our meals cold, which only made matters worse. Finally, Caesar had enough. Calling a formation to address the army, he ordered us to assemble in the sea of mud that had become the forum of the camp. He wasted no time with any of his usual words of encouragement and expressions of pride in the job that we were doing, his displeasure evident in his words and bearing.
“As you all know, the king of Numidia is now within one or at most two days’ march away and there has been much talk about the composition of the Numidian forces. Rather than keep you in suspense, I will tell you what our scouts have reported. Juba marches to Scipio with ten Legions, 100,000 light infantry, 30,000 cavalry, and 300 elephants. There, now you know what we're facing, so that should put an end to all the questions. You can believe me because I know what I'm talking about, and now that I have told you, if I hear any more talk about it, I'm going to put you on a boat and send you out to sea to fend for yourselves.”
With that, he turned to stride back to headquarters, leaving the men standing shamefaced, but not a little worried.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Scribonius whispered to me as we slogged back to our area.
I told him I did not know, though I doubted it, even if I could not give a good reason why I felt that way. If Caesar’s only goal was to shut the men up, he was successful, though his declaration did nothing to improve morale. Fortunately, the rain finally ceased about the middle of the next day so we went back to work extending the ditch, the finished portion now a moat from all the rains. There were a total of six hilltops that were part of the ridgeline and we had fortified all but one, the southernmost point. Meanwhile Labienus, who saw what we were about and understood its importance, had fortified it himself. To support this redoubt, he left Scipio’s camp to build his own to the south of the end of the ridge, perhaps two miles from it. Making matters more difficult was the terrain itself, this last hill being separated from the chain by a steep ravine, the floor of which was covered with a stand of olive trees. In order to secure our position, that last hill had to be taken from the enemy, so Caesar sent the cavalry down into the ravine through the olive grove. Labienus had anticipated this move, actually setting an ambush, but his men panicked at the sight of Caesar’s Germans and Gauls, so instead of attacking as a unit, they burst from their hiding spot further up the ravine in small groups, intent only on escape, and as a result were cut down. The rest of the Pompeians, seeing their comrades being slaughtered, turned to run up the hill with our cavalry in pursuit, not even stopping to make a stand at the top. It was in this manner we took the hill, which Caesar immediately ordered to be fortified in the same manner as the others. Now that the ridgeline was secure, we could begin the advance on the town, which meant more digging for the men. Caesar divided the army into two groups, one group digging while the other group stood in formation out a short distance in the valley in the event that Scipio wanted to stop us from what we were doing. This was when I began to suspect that Caesar still harbored a grudge against the 10th because we found ourselves digging again instead of standing guard, and it had happened too many times now to be a coincidence. This fact was not lost on the men either, and their muttered complaints were hard to stop because their officers heartily agreed with them. I suppose that it was harder on the men of the 10th because for so long we had been Caesar’s favorite, so our fall from grace was more spectacular. Of course, none of the rest of the army held any sympathy for us, particularly the veterans of the 13th and 14th, who had their collective faces rubbed in our glory for longer than any of the rest.
Even Cyclops, a relative newcomer to the 14th spared me no comfort when we visited each other. “What do you expect? From what I’ve been told, your boys have walked around for years thinking that their cac doesn’t stink like the rest of ours.”
“For a long time it didn’t,” I retorted, though I knew how weak it sounded as I said it.
Cyclops just laughed. “Well, it certainly does now, and you can’t blame the others for taking a little pleasure in it.”
I stopped arguing about it, thanked Cyclops for the wine, then went back to our area.
~ ~ ~ ~
At about the same time that we took the final hill, Juba and his army finally arrived on the scene. While his army was not as large as Caesar had told us, it was still big. The number of elephants was of the most interest to the men, both for the obvious reason and because there had been considerable wagering on the number, so when the final tally was made whoever had picked 30 found themselves rich men. Judging from the sounds of despair when the number was announced, not many men did. To advance on the town, Caesar ordered two parallel trenches running from the base of the ridge towards Uzita, spaced widely enough apart so that the army could array itself between them. This protected our flanks while providing cover to move from the forts on the ridge to a forward camp that we would construct as soon as the trenches were completed. It was from the forward camp that we would besiege the town and be able to do so in relative protection.
At the end of the first day, a force of Numidians from Juba’s camp came boiling out to fall on our cavalry, acting as rearguard for the rest of the watching Cohorts as they retreated to our camp on the other side of the ridge. However, our Gauls and Germans, after recoiling in surprise from the initial attack, turned about to rout the Numidians with heavy loss to the enemy. The next day the work on the entrenchments was finished, then without any delay we began working on the camp, situated just out of range of the enemy archers. Fortunately, the Pompeians either had not thought to bring or did not have any heavy artillery with which to defend Uzita, and now it was too late
for them to get any inside the walls. Again, the men of the 10th were chosen for the work of building the camp, and I seriously thought of going to Caesar to ask him to relent, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. He had put me in this position because he trusted in my ability to lead the men in the manner in which Caesar thought was proper, so for me to go to him now would mean that I was unable to do so. Instead, I instructed the Centurions to crack down, literally, on those complaining the loudest and there were a few viti broken in the construction of that camp. The front facing Uzita was more heavily fortified than was our normal practice, with the turf wall and parapet made wider so that scorpions and ballistae would fit. This camp was our new home, though we marched back to the old one to pick up our meager possessions, returning to the forward camp after dark.
While we were working, Caesar was busy as well, but on the seas, as trouble had struck the fleet on its way back to pick up the remaining men of the army. One of the Pompeians, Varus was his name, attacked our vessels as they approached Leptis, scattering them and burning some of the transports, which fortunately were only carrying food, though it was badly needed. Caesar was given word of the trouble while he was in the main camp by the sea. Galloping off to Leptis, six miles away, he boarded his flagship and with a scratch force sailed out to confront Varus. Pursuing him to Hadrumentum, Caesar went into the harbor itself, recapturing a ship taken by Varus while setting fire to a number of the enemy’s own transports before sailing back. The rest of the fleet arrived safely, containing the rest of the 10th, along with the 9th, so there was much rejoicing in the camp as comrades were reunited. Unfortunately, the happiness was destined to be short-lived, at least for the 10th.
~ ~ ~ ~
Now that the 10th was back together, Caesar took the opportunity to inflict the punishment he had been forced to defer back at the Campus Martius, calling a formation in the main camp the day after the reinforcements arrived. He had not informed me what he was up to, but I suspected that it had something to do with the mutiny. So did the men, who were subdued and uneasy as we marched the short distance over the hill to the main camp. The fact that Caesar was having us assemble in the main camp, away from the eyes of the enemy, was a hint that he did not want them to witness what was to happen. Coming with the rest of the 10th were the two Tribunes, Avienus and Fonteius, and they were two haughty young bastards, barely deigning to speak to me, a lowly Centurion, at least one who was not one of their toadies, in the limited number of watches I was in contact with them. There were a few of those, the kind that always somehow make their way into the Centurionate, usually because of pressure from their friends higher up on men like me. Sometimes the pressure is in the form of a threatened exposure of a secret that would prove damaging, or sometimes it is in the form of outright bribery. So far, I had been lucky in that I had not been forced to face such a trial. I knew that it would be coming if I lived long enough, but at least it would not be coming from these two, because as soon as we were assembled and we had gone through the formalities that are a ritual of the army, Caesar wasted no time, calling both of them to the front of the formation. Even through their natural arrogance, their unease and worry was plain to see, and for this, they had good cause.
Looking down on them from the rostra of shields that had been constructed, Caesar’s gaze was cold, while contempt dripped from every word as he spoke. “Gaius Avienus, you instigated troops in the service of the Republic to mutiny, you plundered lawfully constituted municipalities, and you have been of absolutely no use to me or to Rome. In direct contravention of my orders, instead of embarking troops on your ship, you boarded your personal slaves and horses. Because of your misconduct, we are now short of men, and for this and all that I have stated you are hereby dismissed from this army without honors and directed to leave Africa today.” He turned to Fonteius, leaving Avienus white with shock, shaking with shame and humiliation. “Aulus Fonteius, you too are dismissed from the army for insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer in the Roman army.”
Then it was time for a surprise, because Caesar then called three of my Centurions to the front of the formation, and I was happy to see that they were the two disgraced Tribunes’ lackeys.
“Titus Salienus, Marcus Tiro, and Gaius Clusenas, the three of you have reached the rank of Centurion in my army not by merit, but by favor. You have not been distinguished for valor in war or good conduct in peace, and instead of being obedient and exercising self-control you have been active in sedition and in inciting your men to mutiny against their general. Therefore, I deem you unfit to command Centuries in my army, and you are hereby dismissed as well, to leave Africa immediately.”
As soon as Caesar finished, the provosts who had been waiting stepped forward, two men surrounding each of the disgraced men. None too gently they were led away to their fate. While I was happy to see that one pressing problem was solved in a manner that would have been too difficult for me to accomplish, at least as far as the Tribunes were concerned, I was somewhat disappointed because I did not think Caesar had gotten everyone. I had really hoped that Celer would have been one of the men sent packing, but I would just have to let Scribonius deal with him. I must admit he was probably doing better than I had when I was in command of the Second. I now had vacancies in the Fifth, Seventh, and Eighth Cohorts respectively, and I began thinking of possible replacements. Caesar had nothing more to say; his message was clear and understood by every man in the Legion. My only hope as he stepped down from the rostra, then headed for the praetorium, was that now the 10th was no longer going to bear the brunt of his displeasure.
~ ~ ~ ~
All was not going well for the Pompeians, who had their own morale problems, as desertions were beginning to mount. The trenches we dug, particularly the one on the side nearest the enemy camps, served as a secure passageway for those wishing to desert, so much so that it soon became a well-traveled road heading one way towards our camp as first rankers, then officers, particularly in Juba’s army came to our side. Their stories were all the same; they believed that the Pompeian cause was lost and they were getting on the winning side as quickly as possible. As was his usual policy, Caesar welcomed all those who came to our side, though we in the ranks took a more cynical view of these new converts to the cause. Perhaps it was in answer to these desertions that Scipio decided that another demonstration was in order, so two days after the Tribunes were cashiered, the bucina sounded the call that the enemy was in sight. We formed up quickly in answer, and as the men made themselves ready, I ran to find out what was happening. Scipio was apparently offering battle, forming up in a line on the far side of the city walls, using a small creek that ran behind the city as a barrier to attack from our army. We were ordered out into formation, and for the first time since the 10th had been formed, we were not posted on the right, but on the left with the 9th. However, it was not as further punishment, but because Scipio had deployed a large contingent of cavalry beyond his own right wing. He was obviously hoping to send them into our flank and rear, should we engage with the right wing. Because of this development, Caesar wanted his most experienced men on that side. Nevertheless, I have to say it was quite an awkward experience and it took us longer than I liked to get in place. Fortunately, Scipio did not seem anxious to come to grips, so we had no problems despite the delay. As we did the last time, we went to all the trouble of forming up for battle and we simply stood there staring at each other as the sun moved through the sky. It became clear that Scipio was hoping to tempt us to attack, using the creek and town as natural barriers to help bolster his defense, yet Caesar would not snap at the bait, making for another boring day. The men were allowed to sit in place and drink from their canteens as the time plodded by, each side eying the other while talking quietly.
About two parts of a watch after midday, there was movement on the enemy side, so I called the men to their feet, the cursing and moaning cut short by a few judicious whacks with the vitus from the Centurions. The enemy ca
valry force that was to our left had begun moving towards us, while at the same time the right wing of the enemy formation, composed entirely of cavalry also started moving. As they drew closer, we could see that it was Labienus in the lead, obviously recovered from his fall, the men jeering the sight of the traitor. Their intent was clear; they were going to try to pin us while the other force circled around us, but Caesar was ready for the move. Our own cavalry, along with an auxiliary force, came pounding across our rear, heading for the marauding enemy, while Labienus’ cavalry stopped just out of javelin range to dress their lines then make themselves ready for a charge, or at least acted as if they were. Our cavalry and auxiliaries went splashing across the marshy ground around the creek to throw themselves into the enemy, but as the Pompeian force was composed of mostly Numidian horse, instead of standing and fighting they broke contact, galloping a short distance away before suddenly stopping then hurling their javelins. Several horses were hit, as well as a few men but that was all the damage done, and once the enemy plan was thwarted, they seemed to be content to retire to their camps, as we did the same.
~ ~ ~ ~
We spent the next several days doing little more than improving the works around Uzita, although there were skirmishes between the cavalry every day. This gave me the time I needed to fill the posts of the disgraced Centurions, which I did in the more traditional manner of moving men up and placing the new Centurions in the Tenth Cohort. The best news, at least for me, was that Diocles had finally made it. Although he did not bring my baggage, per Caesar’s strict orders, having him at my side helped matters tremendously. Poor Diocles probably did not feel that way, since there was a pile of paperwork that I had been neglecting that he was forced to spend all of his time finishing. The reason Diocles was allowed a spot on the ship was that while he was my body slave, he was also the Legion clerk, so it made my life easier in other ways.