Caesar Ascending-Conquest of Parthia

by R. W. Peake

  “This is a trick!” Bagadates snapped, then pointed an accusing finger at Pullus. “You have summoned reinforcements!”

  Pullus had expected something like this, and he pointed out, “We have more than enough men right now to kill every one of you. And,” he swept an arm around the intersection, “you can see there’s barely enough room now as it is for just these two Centuries.” Shaking his head, he finished flatly, “This is no trick.”

  Fortunately, for everyone involved, they didn’t have long to wait. They heard the clattering sound of hooves before the party came into view, and every eye, Parthian and Roman, was now turned in the direction from which the sound was coming, even those Parthians who had been facing the Third Century. For the briefest moment, Pullus considered shouting the order to the Third to fall on the now unprotected rear of those Parthians, but almost instantly dismissed it. Not only was it unnecessary, it would be unworthy of Titus Pullus, and Caesar. Then, bursting into view as they rounded the corner, there appeared the leading edge of a column of horsemen, Pullus instantly recognizing them as Caesar’s bodyguards. Two ranks of the Germans were ahead of Caesar, who had donned his helmet, but it was the man next to him that every eye turned to, and Pullus gave a grim smile at the gasps of shock and dismay from behind him. Pullus would only learn later that Caesar had forced Phraates to change back into his original armor, including the helmet with the golden circlet, but it wasn’t on Phraates’ head. Instead, it was Gundomir, on the opposite side of Phraates from Caesar who had affixed it to a spear that he held aloft so that it could easily be seen. Moving at the trot, the riders approached, with the two leading ranks moving smoothly around the two sides of the First Century, in order for Caesar and Phraates to be plainly visible.

  “Pullus, you summoned, and I came,” Caesar said this loudly enough for everyone to hear, “so never let it be said that I don’t serve at the pleasure of my Equestrians!”

  Once more, a roar rang out, this time even more deafening, but Pullus, after saluting Caesar and exchanging a knowing wink in recognition of his general’s adroitness in playing to the vanity of his favored Legion, turned to face Bagadates.

  “Now,” Pullus had to bellow this, and his voice was cold, harsh, and unyielding, “you called me a liar, and I have proven that I am not. So, what is your decision?”

  The Parthian commander’s face was a study in despair, although his mirrored those men belonging to what he now knew would be his last command, and without saying anything, he dropped his sword to the paving stones. This was followed by a clattering, clashing sound of metal striking stone that even drowned out the cheering, as Sostrate fell, and in the process, brought Caesar one step closer to ultimate victory.

  “Give the men the night to debauch,” Caesar told Pullus, Balbinus, and Carfulenus, making an expansive sweep of his arm as he did so, “and tell them Caesar has given them this city.” As high ranking as the three men were, they were still rankers at heart, and they exchanged broad grins, even as they also knew that they would be busier than they had been during the early moments after the city had been taken. “But,” Caesar warned, “I don’t want the civilians harmed. At least, beyond normal. Make sure the men know that I will be extremely angry, and I will take that anger out on any man who violates that order. Is that clear?” It was, each of them assured Caesar, then the general turned to more specific business. “Tomorrow,” he addressed Pullus and Balbinus, “you will march your Legions back to Susa. You don’t have to do a forced march like we did to get here, but I’m only giving you an extra day, so I expect to see you at Susa in four days’ time. And, when you come, bring as much grain and other foodstuffs that each man and the mules we brought along can carry. Also, use whatever animals are available here, and leave just enough to feed the 28th and the people of the city for,” he thought for a moment, “a month.” Turning to Carfulenus, he said, “The 28th is going to stay here and serve as the garrison until I order otherwise.” Carfulenus, as Caesar expected, clearly didn’t like the prospect of being left behind, but the general would have been more disappointed if the Primus Pilus had been happy with his decision. Nevertheless, Carfulenus nodded and acknowledged his order verbally. “Now,” Caesar moved on, “I’m taking Phraates back to Susa immediately. I’ll be taking the cavalry with me, of course, and we are going to move fast. We’re also going to be bringing as much food as we can without slowing us down.” Giving his Primi Pili what could only be called a wolfish smile, he said, “Hopefully, by sunset tomorrow, Susa will be ours, at the very least.”

  His smile was returned in kind, then Balbinus asked, “Caesar, what about the combatant prisoners? What should we do with them?” He paused, exchanging a surreptitious glance with Pullus, having discussed this beforehand, who shrugged, which wasn’t what Balbinus was hoping for. Scowling at his counterpart, Balbinus pressed, “Do we put them to the sword, Caesar?” When the general didn’t immediately answer, he pointed out, “These aren’t the normal lot of Parthians. They’re handpicked bodyguards of the King of Parthia, which means they’re all from nobility, and not likely to be any use to us.”

  This, Caesar acknowledged, was true, but after a moment’s thought, he shook his head, although what he said was, “Not yet. Put them in chains, keep them under close guard. There are how many?”

  “A few over four hundred,” Carfulenus answered, since it had fallen to his Legion to round them up. “That’s all that was left out of the thousand.” Reaching down, he pulled out a wax tablet from his bag, and consulted it before adding, “Then there’s about six thousand left, equally mixed between infantry and dismounted archers.”

  “Those I’m not as worried about,” Caesar replied, “but I think for a week or so, it’s best to keep them penned up. But,” he warned, “separate from the royal guards. Those men,” he finished grimly, “I want not only in a stockade, I want them in chains.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Carfulenus acknowledged the order, knowing the tremendous amount of work it would take to accomplish all that Caesar had set out for his Legion.

  “Now,” Caesar finished, the smile returning, “if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking our prize to Susa. And you men have some debauching to do!”

  Swinging aboard Toes, Caesar acknowledged the salutes of the three Primi Pili, then was gone in a small trail of dust as he moved across the palace square, heading to the band of horsemen that included the Parthian king.

  “Well,” Pullus said as they watched, “let’s go tell the men.”

  “So much for getting a good night’s sleep,” Balbinus complained, prompting the other two to chuckle as Pullus teased him, “Have you turned into an old woman who needs her sleep?”

  “I’ve always liked my sleep!” Balbinus protested.

  “Then you got into the wrong job,” Carfulenus muttered, and, laughing, they went to find their Legions to give them the good news.

  The mood was light, the spirits high, and from the Roman point of view, it seemed as if the end of this entire campaign was near. Yes, there was a threat to their supply line, but taking the rations meant for the Parthian people and garrison of Sostrate would help relieve that problem. It was inconceivable to any Roman who was aware of this sudden and dramatic shift in their fortunes that this campaign could last much longer. Unknown to all of them, there had been an escapee from Sostrate, and he was already moving swiftly, but not to Susa. Instead, he was heading directly for his master, bringing the news of this dramatic turn of events.

  Kambyses had reason to be pleased with his decision to bypass Susa and instead choke off the Roman supply line. The most obvious benefit was that the Roman army surrounding Susa had been cut off from any form of supply for more than a Roman week, but it was the wonderful irony that his own supply issues were solved by the taking of the food and other essentials that had been meant for Caesar that he relished the most. Not just food had been taken, but bundles of leather, ingots of iron, and in a way just as important, the stout ash poles that served as the basi
s of the Roman javelins that, with just a minor modification, could be used by his own men, especially the two Cohorts of Crassoi. Although he didn’t expect the boy back in Ctesiphon to try and send another supply column, Kambyses was relentlessly sending out patrols, exchanging groups out in a constant stream so that there was simply no way even a single rider could get past them. More than just choking off the supply of food, Kambyses wanted Caesar to be as blinded as possible about his situation, although he was certain that the Roman had deduced the cause for the drying up of his supply line. Whether or not Caesar knew that it was Kambyses who was responsible, he had no way to tell, but he hoped that at some point, in the near future, he would reverse the situation that had found Kambyses literally lying flat on his back in the square of Ctesiphon, with Caesar looking down at him from horseback. And, the Parthian thought grimly, I won’t make the same mistake with Caesar that he made with me. Oh, I will treat him with the same courtesy he showed me…up until the moment I remove his arrogant head from his body. This thought occupied more of his time than he would have wanted known, but it wasn’t something he spoke about around his subordinates, all of whom were much younger and who, rightly, feared their commander. However, something else that Kambyses wouldn’t want known, particularly by Phraates, was that he had, in fact, learned a great deal from Caesar during his captivity, particularly in the area of leadership, the Roman version of which was vastly different than what the Parthians practiced. For Parthians of sufficient rank to lead other men, there was only one tool that was considered necessary for effective command, and that was that the men be afraid of their leader. Whether it be personally, because of his prowess in single combat, or because of the power he wielded as a result of his rank, ultimately it was through fear and fear alone that Parthian nobles were taught as being the essential ingredient for a leader. With Caesar, Kambyses had witnessed something else entirely, where men willingly did his bidding, and while there was fear present, it was caused more by the idea of disappointing their general than the punishment he could inflict. Yet, as he had witnessed with the execution of the lone rapist Legionary, and with Anaxagoras, Caesar could also be harsh in his punishment, yet it was never done capriciously. Indeed, of all the things Kambyses had learned, not just about Caesar, but Romans in general, was their reverence for their laws, and the respect for the order those laws brought to their lives and society. The consequence was that, subtly at first, Kambyses had slightly altered his own style of leadership, making himself more approachable to his subordinates, and tending to explain his orders more to them when he thought it would help them execute whatever they were, to his satisfaction. What he couldn’t bring himself to do was enjoy moments of levity with his men; indeed, he rarely smiled, and when he did, it felt more like a grimace on his face. Regardless, the contrast in the Kambyses of old and the man who was responsible for strangling the Romans, hopefully into submission, was such that the men under his command, from his immediate subordinates down to the spear carriers in the infantry noticed and appreciated it. For Kambyses, it meant that his orders were more readily obeyed, and the young nobles who reported directly to him were less likely to put up resistance to whatever task they had been assigned. Then, barely two days after Sostrate fell, Kambyses’, and the entire Parthian world, was turned upside down, and it was presaged by the arrival of the escapee from Sostrate.

  Kambyses had long forgotten the man’s real name, nor could he precisely recall why Kambyses’ father had saved him from execution, after he had been caught trying to steal from one of his father’s concubines. Because of the manner in which he had managed to squirm through what had seemed to be an impossibly small window, he had been given a nickname, and this was how Kambyses knew him. Now, this man, called Ophis, the Greek word for a serpent, had suddenly appeared from where he had been working for Kambyses, as a spy in Phraates’ court, working as one of the palace servants that was part of the traveling entourage of the Parthian king. Ophis had begun his employ under Kambyses during the reign of Orodes, so when Phraates took the throne, he was simply considered one of the faceless, nameless entities that lived only to serve the Parthian royal house. In all truth, Kambyses had forgotten about Ophis, yet somehow, the man had managed to not only escape from Sostrate, but found Kambyses, although he killed his horse in doing so while evading the Roman cavalry in between the Parthian camp and the spy, staggering up to the Parthian encampment after being forced to cover the last fifteen miles on foot, and using every bit of cover he could find. He was dragged to Kambyses’ tent, and it took the Parthian commander a moment to recognize him, his clothing torn and the visible parts of his body caked with grime.

  But then the man lifted his head, and despite himself, Kambyses gasped, “Ophis? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

  “Yes, lord,” the pitiful figure’s voice was barely recognizable, but he managed, “may I have some water, lord?”

  Snapping his fingers, Kambyses directed the two guards to take Ophis to a nearby couch, and such was his interest and agitation that he went and poured the cup of water himself, bringing it to his spy. It was difficult, but Kambyses managed to be patient while the former thief drained the cup; when he held it out, clearly expecting it to be refilled, Kambyses snatched it, then passed it to one of the guards with a curt order to fill it.

  Then, he turned to Ophis and demanded, “Why are you here?”

  His voice partially recovered, the spy told Kambyses what he knew, which in reality was little enough; he had made his escape before the first Roman ladders touched the wall, something that Kambyses had surmised before the spy said it, and he was forced to stifle his contempt for this man. Keeping his thoughts hidden, Kambyses listened as Ophis described how thoroughly the Parthian garrison had been caught by surprise.

  “We had no idea the Romans were anywhere near, until they were outside the walls,” the spy said somberly. “I went up onto the rampart to see what was happening and then, when I saw who it was leading them, I knew you would want to know, lord. That,” Kambyses supposed that Ophis was trying to sound earnest, but the Parthian commander wasn’t swayed as the spy said, “is the only reason I left, lord! I knew you would want to know!”

  “That is commendable,” Kambyses lied, but he was more interested in something Ophis had said, “but you said something about who was commanding them…”

  “It was Caesar, lord,” Ophis replied instantly. “I saw him with my own eyes.”

  Although Kambyses’ heart quickened, he wasn’t completely convinced and asked Ophis, “How do you know what the Roman even looks like?”

  “Because I was part of the royal household when we left Susa, and Caesar attacked us, lord,” Ophis explained, and Kambyses was instantly transported back to that moment, less than three months earlier, when his circumstances had changed so dramatically that, even now, he had trouble fathoming everything that had occurred since. “I saw him leading the charge against Phraates’ part of the column.”

  Kambyses stared, hard, into Ophis’ eyes, acutely aware that this man was a thief, and thieves were liars; this was a truth that crossed all boundaries of cultures and society, yet Kambyses sensed that Ophis was speaking truthfully, that he had indeed seen Caesar outside the walls of Sostrate. And, despite the fact that the thief had not tarried, Kambyses was certain that the Roman had been successful in taking not just Sostrate, but capturing Phraates. The implications struck the Parthian general with the force of a punch to the gut, and he actually staggered as he walked over to a stool, falling onto it heavily as he tried to think through the meaning of what he had just learned.

  “He’s probably taking Phraates to Susa, to show him to Gobryas,” Kambyses mused, trying to recall what he knew of Gobryas, and more importantly, his political leanings in the ever-shifting dynamics of the Parthian royal court. Would Gobryas surrender, which was the obvious requirement Caesar would make for the life of their king? Or would he have some iron in his soul that stiffened his resolve? Although he had
certainly spent time with the man, Kambyses hadn’t spoken to him at length, simply because he was a rival in the hierarchy of power of the Parthian court. Now he tried to recall any piece of information about the man that came to mind, but nothing he remembered gave him any idea about the man himself. Shaking his head, he dismissed this line of thought as fruitless in the moment, returning to the subject of the attack itself and what Ophis had seen. While the spy had his uses, and he had performed an invaluable service to Kambyses, he was no military man, so it took several questions by Kambyses, who had to discipline himself from showing his frustration, before the Parthian determined that Caesar had come to Sostrate with three Legions. Once he determined he had garnered all the useful information from Ophis, he waved to one of the guards to help the spy to his feet.

  “I will see to it that your needs are taken care of for this,” Kambyses said, then added, “and you will be handsomely rewarded for this service you have done for our king.”

  “Thank you, lord! But I seek no reward! It is only my duty!” Ophis lied unconvincingly, but Kambyses was already thinking of what his next steps were, which meant he almost missed something that Ophis said. “I am just happy that I escaped that giant Roman!”

  “Giant Roman?” Kambyses spun about. “What giant Roman? Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

  Ophis turned instantly fearful, and his tone became obsequious as he answered, “He was a soldier, lord! One of the men who wear the…” Not knowing the proper term, he pantomimed a transverse crest. “…but that is all I know about him, lord! I swear it! He was leading the Romans who were coming across the bridge.”

  “Pullus,” Kambyses muttered, his mouth twisting into a grimace of hatred, the very name of the Roman Centurion reminding him of the death of Pacorus. “Of course Caesar would bring the 10th for such an important attack.” Realizing that while this was interesting, it had no real bearing on what he had to do next, so he gestured a dismissal, and the guard escorted Ophis out. To the other guard, Kambyses said, “Go find my brother and tell him to come to my tent immediately.”