by R. W. Peake
Asinius Pollio was a good general. He was also a great scholar and a very wise man, one who was usually right about most things. In this, he was more right than he knew.
~ ~ ~ ~
While we were watching events in Rome, it was not as if there were not things going on in Hispania, courtesy of Sextus Pompey, who had managed to flee into the hills to gather together a group of die-hard Pompeians, but he was not much more than a nuisance. However, the fear was not what he could do at that moment, but that if he were allowed to go unchecked, he could gain strength and experience so that at some point in the future he became a formidable opponent. He was still in his teens, and he was smart enough to recruit men from areas that had been Pompeian strongholds for many years. One day I was called to the praetorium to see that there was a new face along with Pollio, and in thinking back, I do not know if I took an instant disliking to the man before he opened his mouth, but if not it was only moments after, when he did start speaking.
“Primus Pilus Pullus, this is Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. He'll be taking over command here, as he has been sent by the Senate to govern the province.”
Pollio’s tone was formal and correct, yet I had been around him long enough to know that he was not happy about this development. I turned to salute Lepidus, who I towered over by several inches, which was not unusual, but Lepidus was as narrow as he was short. He had little muscle on his frame, and a weak chin, which I have always found to be telling about a man’s character.
He returned my salute with what I could only describe as indifference, then turned back to Pollio as if I was not in the room. “As governor and commander of the province, duly appointed by the Senate, I command you to go in pursuit of the rebel Sextus Pompey immediately. In fact, I'm surprised that you haven't done so before this, and it makes me wonder about your loyalty.”
I could feel my mouth drop; this display of rudeness between members of the upper class, particularly in front of a subordinate, was something that I have never witnessed, before or since, but I learned everything I needed to know about Lepidus in that exchange with Pollio.
As for Pollio, his face turned purple with rage, though his voice was controlled, albeit just barely, his words clipped. “I can assure you, Governor, that I am as loyal a man as you'll find. Perhaps if you had spent much time in the field with Caesar, you would have been able to witness my loyalty firsthand, but I understand that Rome and its pleasures are hard to leave behind.”
Now it was Lepidus’ turn to splutter with rage, as he pointed a stubby little finger at Pollio and hissed, “I must remind you that you're speaking to a superior, in every way I might add. My birth and ancestors are impeccable, whereas you're nothing but an upstart and low-born at that.”
And there was the nub of it, why Lepidus’ name and deeds will only be a footnote in history. It was also why I and the other Centurions abandoned him later. As I said, he was a small man in every way, but he thought that he was a great man simply because of who he was and who his ancestors had been. Caesar’s ancestry and bloodline was every bit as illustrious as someone like Lepidus, yet Caesar valued competence and intelligence above all else. He had accomplished more than any man in Roman history because of his farsightedness and open acceptance of men such as Pollio, and in a much smaller sense, myself. Lepidus was blinded to the abilities in others if their birth was not as exalted as his, and I was witnessing firsthand why he was never more than an annoyance and a bit of a joke.
The two noblemen were still ignoring me as they stood nose to nose, but ultimately, Lepidus had the rights of it, no matter how much both Pollio and I might have loathed him for it.
Finally, Pollio relented, while I was dismissed, but as I turned to leave Lepidus had one more nasty surprise in store for me. “Primus Pilus, I'll be inspecting your Legion in one third of a watch. Make them ready, and I expect them to meet my standards.”
I froze in place; sure that this was some sort of jest on his part but as I was to learn, among his other failings, Lepidus had absolutely no sense of humor. Even Pollio looked shocked, as I looked to him for help. The men were training; some of them were out at the stakes, others were working on mending gear, the normal activities of a Legion in training. To expect them to drop what they were doing, get their uniforms, weapons, and leathers in the kind of condition that would stand inspection by not just a commanding officer but a governor, was a further demonstration that Lepidus had his head firmly deposited up his anal cavity.
“Governor, may I suggest that perhaps you postpone your inspection for a few thirds of a watch at least? Surely you'd rather rest after your long journey,” Pollio oozed sincerity, their earlier differences apparently forgotten, but Lepidus was unmoved.
“Nonsense,” he retorted. “You insinuated that I know nothing of military affairs, and I'll show you that nothing could be further from the truth. I will hold inspection in one third of a watch.”
Pollio looked at me, then shrugged helplessly; he had tried, he was saying, but there was nothing to be done. As angry as I was at Lepidus, I was equally angry at Pollio, because it was his words that put Lepidus into this corner. His authority and knowledge had been challenged, so now he had to salvage some sort of victory. However, it would be at the expense of my Legion, and ultimately my career, for I had no doubt that as inept as Lepidus obviously was, he was determined to show everyone that he was some sort of military authority. The fact that he thought that he could prove his bona fides by holding a parade ground inspection was just an example of how little he actually did know, and all he would have to show for it would be half a Legion on the punishment list, along with a number of hugely embarrassed and angry Centurions and Optios. I saluted the both of them, executed a parade ground about-face, then stalked out of the headquarters.
~ ~ ~ ~
The inspection was every bit the fiasco that I expected. Ultimately Lepidus sealed his fate with not just the 10th that day, but after word of what he had done spread through the rest of the army, he earned the never-ending enmity of the Legionaries of Rome. My silent prediction of half the Legion ending up on the punishment list was off by a large amount; almost three-quarters of the Legion were found lacking in some way by Lepidus and his toadies, three loathsome little men who obviously wanted to curry favor with the governor. The whole ordeal took the better part of the day, and the only thing I can say that was positive about the experience was that it did more to unite the Legion than anything either any of the Centurions or I had done to that point. The one stroke of fortune was that Lepidus could not be bothered to stay long enough to witness any of the punishments that he prescribed for the men, which included about a half-dozen floggings for the more “egregious” offenses committed by the men, one of them being an improperly tied helmet strap, for which Lepidus ordered ten lashes, though he magnanimously announced to the sullen men that it would not be with the scourge. He claimed that he had pressing business elsewhere in the province and would be leaving in the morning, so for perhaps the first time in the history of the Roman army, not one man put on the list was actually punished, the matter being completely ignored the moment that Lepidus and his party was over the horizon.
~ ~ ~ ~
Pollio took leave just a day or two later, leaving me in nominal command of the camp until the return of Lepidus, a prospect that none of the Centurions found appealing, given what we had seen of the worm during his short stay. My biggest concern at that point was that with Pollio leaving, I would be in the dark about developments in the larger world, but he promised to keep me informed by messenger as he learned what was taking place. As much as Lepidus was personally despised, the one thing in his favor was that he was backing Antonius, though in real terms I did not think much of what he had to offer, since especially in those early days, Antonius was the logical choice for men like me and the other Centurions. By this time, Antonius had moved into Campania, where a large number of veterans of the 8th, 9th, and 10th were now settled. He had begun recruiting men f
or a period of service, though at the time he was not asking for a full enlistment. Supposedly, his biggest fear at that moment was Decimus Brutus, who under Senate authority had taken the governorship of Cisalpine Gaul, thereby commanding the 23rd through 25th Legions, which were now considered veterans. It was not until later that I learned that the real reason Antonius left Rome in the first place was because of his oppressive actions in the execution of a man named Amatius. This Amatius claimed to be the illegitimate grandson of Gaius Marius, whose name and memory still evoked a powerful pull on the common people, and after Caesar’s funeral, he had supposedly made claims that he would kill Cassius and Brutus for the murder of Caesar. Antonius, with little if any evidence, arrested Amatius, then had him executed without a trial, which endeared Antonius to the Senate, but made him extremely unpopular with the people. When the people gathered in the Forum to protest, Antonius ordered some men from the 7th, who were stationed on the Campus Martius, to strike down an unknown number of citizens. This was the real reason he left the city to raise an army, because the people of the Head Count were now baying for his blood as well. Meanwhile, a rake named Dolabella had been named as Consul by Caesar, but our general’s body was not yet cold when Dolabella turned on his memory, siding with The Liberators, making a number of speeches essentially blaming Caesar for his own death. Ironically, the other Consul for the year was none other than Antonius, but Dolabella and Antonius hated each other, meaning that any cooperation between them was bound to be non-existent. However, both of them were clearly attempting to curry favor with the Senate, though Antonius was trying to avoid going too far in his appeasement because of his very well-founded fear of Caesar’s veterans seeing him as being one of The Liberators. What I found particularly confusing about all this madness going on was how the assassins so cynically followed Caesar’s edicts, even though they had murdered him for his actions. As I mentioned, Decimus Brutus obeyed Caesar’s command to govern Cisalpine Gaul, while Trebonius did the same in taking the governorship of Asia, and Cimber took Bithynia, all of which Caesar had commanded. However, Cassius had been slated by Caesar to go to Syria, but for reasons I could not discern, the Senate actually blocked that move, choosing to send Dolabella in his place, while Brutus’ governorship of Macedonia was given to Antonius instead. By taking command of Syria, Dolabella was also taking over responsibility for the invasion of Parthia, which I could not imagine any of the army slated for this operation was happy about. It was somewhere about this time that things became truly interesting, as a new player entered the stage.
~ ~ ~ ~
I received a letter from Pollio informing me that on the Nones of May, the young Octavius, now insisting on being called by the name of Caesar, which at this point nobody was doing, arrived in Rome to take possession and control of his inheritance. He had been in Apollonia studying and preparing for his duties as a Military Tribune, and he returned in much the same manner as Caesar did when his adopted father attempted to cross the sea to spur Antonius on to bring the rest of the army over when we were in Greece, braving a tremendous storm to come to Rome. That was the story anyway; as I have learned, sometimes to my chagrin, the line between what is fact and fiction when it comes to the man now known as Augustus is sometimes so blurry as to be invisible. Whatever really happened, the story of his courageous crossing of the sea in a raging storm evoked memories of his adopted father, which was undoubtedly welcomed by Octavian. He brought with him another Tribune, a man who I believe would be considered one of the greatest military minds of his or any other time, if he had been more ambitious and not so devoted to Octavian, young Marcus Agrippa. They landed not at Brundisium, but at Lupiae, a smaller port where he would not attract so much attention. He immediately made his way to a nearby military camp, where he passed among the Legionaries posted there, dazzling them in much the same way I suppose he had dazzled me by his resemblance to Caesar. The men there immediately swore their allegiance to him, and I am sure that it was as much due to that resemblance as it was to his status as the lawful heir of Caesar. Traveling to Brundisium, now accompanied by a substantial body of Legionaries, he made the same impression on the more sizable group of men stationed at the port, this being the primary collection point for the planned Parthian operation. It was at Brundisium that he made the formal announcement that he was accepting the bequest of Caesar, that he would henceforth call himself Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, and that he expected all men to address him in this manner. Another event took place, one that has been the subject of much discussion, the fact of Octavian’s appearance at Brundisium coinciding with the simultaneous disappearance of the war chest that Caesar had set aside for the Parthian expedition. Nothing was ever said officially, but the grapevine in the army was of the strong opinion, in fact a certainty, that Octavian had taken it. I do not know exactly what transpired, but what I can say is that given the subsequent problems Octavian had prying his inheritance from Caesar from Antonius’ grasp, he somehow kept finding funds to fuel his enterprises. I suppose it was inevitable that the two of them should clash; there can only be one First Man, and despite his youth and inexperience, Octavian was a serious contender for the title, if only at first by virtue of his adoption by Caesar. Whatever the cause, it did not take long for matters to become heated between the two of them. Pollio wrote to me that the very day Octavian entered Rome he went to Antonius’ house, which ironically had once belonged to Pompey Magnus, and depending on whom you believed, either requested or demanded that Antonius hand over the cash portion of his inheritance, which Antonius had seized along with Caesar’s papers shortly after his murder. Either Pollio had a source that was there, or his correspondent had a vivid imagination, because Pollio’s letter went into great detail about the meeting. Antonius was extremely angry, according to this source, claiming that he had found the treasury empty, that he was using Caesar’s funds to conduct public business, and was in no way enriching his own purse. He went on to point out that he was under no obligation to give Octavian anything since the will had yet to be ratified. I imagine that he thought that this would quell any ideas Octavian had, but for the first though not the last time, he seriously underestimated the young man. I cannot say that I blame him; Octavian was very young, while his precious good looks did him no favors. Even after spending time with him and getting a glimpse of his intelligence and the flash of iron that I had seen, I found it hard to believe that he could be a serious rival to a man like Antonius. However, I was not the one with so much at stake, Antonius was. By choosing to treat Octavian as a young boy and not as an equal and serious rival, he put Octavian in a position to do Antonius great damage, an opportunity that Octavian wasted no time pressing to his advantage. After his refusal by Antonius, Octavian coolly announced that his primary concern was the disbursement of the bequest to the people that Caesar had made in his will, so if Antonius refused to honor his adopted father’s will, Octavian would, even if it meant using his own money. This is why I for one believed the stories that he had appropriated Caesar’s war chest, because while his family was wealthy, the kind of money it took to pay every citizen the 100 denarii apiece that Caesar had promised was staggering. Antonius was outraged, and I have no doubt that this time his anger was real, because Octavian was spending his time in the Forum loudly proclaiming his intention of paying the people, while decrying Antonius for not abiding by the terms of Caesar’s will. Not surprisingly, this put Antonius in quite a difficult situation, and coupled with his actions against Amatius, he was no longer the darling of the people, Octavian was. It was only through the intercession of intermediaries that an accommodation between the two was reached, although I do not believe anyone thought it would last very long. I am sure that the entrance of Octavian onto the stage was also behind Antonius’ announcement that instead of governing Macedonia, as originally planned, he would be taking the governorship of none other than nearby Cisalpine Gaul. Suddenly, Antonius’ official policy of no reprisals against any of The Liberators evaporated
like a drop of water in the desert as he announced that he was marching with the approval of the Senate to punish the current governor of the province Decimus Brutus. Antonius at least tried to keep up the pretense of legality by going to ask for the Senate to enact the transfer of the governorship. Apparently, he did so at the head of almost a full Cohort of some of the veterans he had enlisted in Campania, so that most of the Senate, fearing that Antonius would do to them what he had done to the supporters of Amatius, stayed away from the Forum. However, Antonius was not to be put off; instead, he had one of his tame Tribunes of the Plebs issue an edict, giving the transfer at least the veneer of legality, no matter how thin. Most importantly for Antonius, and conversely for Octavian, it gave Antonius the legitimate command of an army of four Legions, including the 7th, while Octavian held no official post, and therefore had nothing, at least in terms of an army. He did have his name, which was enough for the veterans, most of them anyway.
~ ~ ~ ~
This is where things stood in mid-summer, when Octavian staged the traditional Victory Games for Apollo, held in the month that is now named for Caesar. A singularly peculiar event occurred during the games that further enhanced the popular belief that Caesar had become a god, indirectly benefiting Octavian as well. While the games were going on, for all seven days, a star bright enough to appear in the daytime appeared in the northern sky, low on the horizon but supposedly clearly visible at all times. It was widely believed that this was nothing less than the sight of Caesar’s soul being accepted by the rest of the gods to become a god himself. I must say that, while I am normally an extremely skeptical person, I found it hard to ascribe any other meaning to this sign, because too many people saw it for it to have been the work of Octavian’s agents. Even Scribonius, normally even more of a skeptic than I, was at a loss to explain it. I am not sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere in the progress of the games, Octavian produced the chair that Caesar had used to preside over the Senate. The chair itself had been gilded, along with the white ribbon diadem offered to Caesar three times by Antonius during the Lupercalia, which Caesar had refused. Octavian ordered both to be set up in the Forum as a tribute to his adopted father. Antonius, using his authority as one of the Consuls, refused to allow this to be done, which was hugely unpopular with the people, but he did not budge. Then, on the last day of the games, Octavian ordered that a statue of Caesar, with a star above his head to denote his status as a god, be erected in Caesar’s temple of Venus Genetrix, the temple that Scribonius and I had visited shortly before its consecration. This drove Antonius into an apoplexy of rage, as he launched into an attack so vitriolic that some of his own Tribunes, commanders of his personal bodyguard no less, remonstrated with him about the harshness of his language towards Octavian. From all indications, this was the first that Antonius learned of the tremendous sympathy his own veterans held for Octavian, which shocked him to his core. Immediately recognizing that he could not afford to offend and alienate men whose strong right arms he needed to achieve his aims, he claimed that he wanted nothing more than to come to some sort of reconciliation with Octavian. All he wanted, Antonius claimed, was to be treated with the respect he felt that he had earned. It was agreed that Antonius and Octavian would meet on the steps of the Capital to make a public show of reconciliation, yet when Antonius made his way there, he was in for another shock. As Octavian approached from the opposite end, Antonius saw that he was surrounded in a protective cordon by Caesar’s veterans, recognizing a good number of them as men Antonius had enlisted on his trip through Campania. His own men were sending a signal to Antonius that, though they might march for him, their hearts were with the young Caesar, for that is how they thought of him. Even if Antonius had planned on doing Octavian any harm, it had to be clear to him that not only would Octavian’s supporters come to the young man’s defense, in all likelihood so would Antonius’ men as well. There was once more a public show of amity between the two, but the veterans were still not willing to trust Antonius, so after the meeting, they escorted Octavian back to his house. This show of support for Octavian by men who were in the employ of Antonius greatly angered the Consul, and I have to believe that it was this fact that led Antonius to accuse Octavian of plotting to kill him, using members of Antonius’ own bodyguard. This accusation understandably caused a huge uproar, and in the interest of living however much longer the gods have deemed for me, I will remain silent on this subject, allowing you, gentle reader, to draw your own conclusions. Suffice it to say that none of this helped to soothe public fears that another civil war was not looming on the horizon.