by R. W. Peake
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Pullus grumbled as he lifted a piece of bread to his mouth before stopping, then throwing it down disgustedly. “I’m not even hungry.”
“That,” Scribonius said wryly, “is a first.” Turning to Balbus, he joked, “That’s when you know we’re fucked, when Titus isn’t hungry.”
Of the three of them, only Balbus’ appetite seemed unaffected, which was why he only gave a shrug as he reached across the table and snatched up the piece Pullus had dropped, popping it into his mouth before his friend could stop him.
“More for me,” he managed past the mouthful of bread, leering at Pullus, who glared at him; he might not have been hungry, but Pullus was famous for his unwillingness to share his food, except when it was scarce. Swallowing, Balbus added seriously, “But you’re right, Titus. Caesar better wake up and realize that we may be wet on the ships, but we’re not going to be covered in cac. And,” he pointed at the large patch of mold Scribonius had been examining, “we don’t have to put up with smelling that all the time. At least there’s a breeze when we sleep on deck.”
When it was close to the time to retire, Scribonius and Balbus got up to leave, with Pullus promising to let them know what he learned when Diocles returned, although he cautioned, “But that’s assuming he finds something out from Apollodorus.”
Once they left, he tried to settle on his cot, though not before he took off his tunic and, for what he was certain was at least the fourth time since they had made camp, tried to wring it out, but it felt every bit as damp when he put it back on. When he stretched out on his cot, the clammy feeling of the blanket made him sit up with a curse, and he got up and dropped down behind his desk, determined to do some reading. This was where Diocles found him when he returned, his face somber, and he wasted no time relating what he had learned.
“Caesar is beginning to regret his decision to split the army,” the Greek began. He had taken his stool and brought it to Pullus’ side and they were now both holding a cup of watered wine, which Pullus had poured. “It’s as if Pollio and his men just…vanished. And now he’s worried that we’re going to be faced with the prospect of taking Bargosa with half an army.” He paused to take a sip, but it was to give him time to decide how to relate what he understood was the most crucial bit of information. Finally, he said somberly, “I think that either Caesar underestimated the strength of the Bargosans or the Sakai, whatever you call them, or he’s learned something about them that has changed things. That,” he finished, “is why he seems willing to risk the men revolting.”
Pullus considered what Diocles had said, and he realized that it fit with what his gut had been telling him, that there was something going on, either with Caesar himself or with these foes they were about to face, that had caused the general to behave so timidly. For a man known throughout the world for the rapidity of his movements, the fact that Caesar was advancing so slowly had to be for a powerful reason, but while Diocles had provided some clarity, there was still more unknown about their situation than known. Only one thing was certain; Pullus was convinced that, as soon as the next day, if Caesar ordered the fleet to put in and the army to make camp, whatever problems his general was facing would be dwarfed by that presented by an army refusing to obey his order.
Chapter Five
His name was Abhiraka, and he was the grandson of the man of the same name who had driven the descendants of Demetrios, one of Alexander’s generals, out of Bharuch and the surrounding region more than sixty years earlier. He represented what the Greeks and Romans called the Indo-Scythians, but like most of the educated men of his day, he preferred to speak in Greek than in the dialect used by the common people, although he was fluent enough in both, and his version of Greek, while more understandable than the Pattalans, was still markedly different from the original. And, in ways more important to Caesar and his advancing Romans, he represented a mixture of the East of Scythia, India, and Parthia with the West of Greece and Macedon. Like the king of Pattala several hundred miles to his north, he had a corps of heavily armored phalanx troops, but unlike the Pattalans, they didn’t rely on the sarissa, using a standard length hoplite spear, while another difference was that each man in the phalanx carried a sword, and were equally adept at using it as they were their primary weapon, unlike the Pattalans. Supporting the heavy infantry were three thousand unarmored skirmishers on foot, half of whom carried sheaves of short javelins, the other half composed of archers, while rounding out the infantry were several thousand men who, while not as heavily armored as the phalanxes, wore scale armor, helmets, and were armed with swords that were longer than the Roman version but weren’t as long as the Roman cavalry spatha. These men carried small, round shields, were drawn from the ranks of the skilled artisans, merchants, and retainers of noble houses, and they bore the brunt of the fighting during the early stages of a battle. However, it was the Bharuch version of cavalry that Abhiraka commanded that gave him a level of confidence that there was no force that could subdue his own. None of his other forces did he take as much pride in as he did his two hundred armored elephants, a number greater than the famous Porus, the man who had turned the Macedonian Alexander away and sent him back across the Indus, which was the version of history the various kings of India chose to believe. Simply put, the elephants were Abhiraka’s pride and joy, and they gave him an enormous amount of confidence, especially when combined with the rest of his forces. Nothing, he was certain, could stand in the face of his corps of elephants, especially after the enemy had endured the onslaught from his skirmishers and infantry. And that, he thought with satisfaction as he stood on the northern rampart of the city staring north searching the horizon, is before they reach these walls. When it came to defensible positions, Bharuch had nothing to recommend it in the form of natural advantages; the land within its walls was flat, and while there was a river, the city was on its northern bank, which wouldn’t help with this looming threat. Consequently, Abhiraka had taken certain steps to rectify this situation.
As large as Pattala was, Bharuch was twice the size in its population, and as Caesar had learned, was far wealthier, but the Roman had no idea the order of magnitude of the wealth that Bharuch represented. Straddling the strategically important trade route to the interior, its location a short distance up the river from the coast that was directly across from Arabia, it also served to connect the largely Indo-Greek north with the various kingdoms to the south, particularly one that had emerged even more recently than Abhiraka’s, people who called themselves the Pandya. Spices, cotton—both raw and in a variety of finished forms, particularly linen—several varieties of hardwood; these were the things that his kingdom produced, but perhaps the most crucial component of Bharuch’s wealth came as its status as a transshipment point for silk, produced by people far to the northeast, known as the Han. This was the southern branch of what was called the Silk Road, and it was hugely profitable for Abhiraka and his people, particularly those merchants who acted as brokers and intermediaries for this product that was prized so highly. Making matters even more profitable was that, as much as silk was craved by the West, the spices that grew in such abundance in his kingdom, along with other types that could only be found further south, were craved by the East. Now all of this was being threatened by the approach of the Romans, but while the king was concerned, he wasn’t overly worried, especially not after he had learned that the invaders were taking the most direct line of travel due south. He knew the terrain to his north very well; it had served as a natural barrier for invaders from that direction for countless generations, although it had served to thwart his ambitions for expanding his own kingdom as well.
The reason that the Macedonians had been successful in taking Bharuch was they had learned that by swinging east, for a distance of fifty miles before turning back southwest, they could skirt the vast stretch of bog. Once Abhiraka was informed that the Romans did no such thing, instead doing what he would learn was their preferred method of using
the shortest route, it gave him time to prepare for the invasion. And, as he had anticipated, these Romans had proven to be completely unprepared to face his elephants, which he had been informed about shortly before climbing up onto the rampart of the northern wall. Now, as he stood there surveying all that he was responsible for, he felt confident that, despite the fearsome reputation of this Roman, Gaius Julius Caesar, and the army that he led, his people, with the help of his elephants, would repel these invaders. Naturally, word of all that Caesar had accomplished had traveled south very quickly, and he had learned the week before about Pattala, something that he had mixed feelings about, since the city was a rival to Bharuch. Additionally, the Pattalans were more Greek than Scythian, and in the king’s opinion, had thought themselves superior to their neighbors because of it. Well, he thought with heavy humor, they’re not superior to anyone anymore. The dispatch he had received had been maddeningly skimpy on details, aside from the glowing report about the two skirmishes that the forces of Bharuch had engaged in with these Romans, and if the commander of the force was being truthful, they had inflicted multiple casualties with minimal loss. Knowing his king, the commander had stressed above all that none of his precious elephants had been harmed, and in fact had been responsible for the bulk of the losses inflicted on the Romans so far. Aside from this information, the only other note of importance was the commander’s estimate of when the Romans would be arriving at the spot Abhiraka had already selected as his first line of defense, and where the bulk of his army was currently working to prepare a strong defensive position. There was only one oversight on the part of the commander of the advance force; he made no mention of the size of this army. While Abhiraka didn’t know all that much about the Romans, he felt confident that the estimates of their strength that he had received when they took Pattala were accurate; being informed that the approaching force was half the size would have alerted him that, as was his habit, Caesar was doing the unexpected.
“We can’t land, sir.”
Pullus, Spurius, Mus, and Carfulenus were present in Caesar’s cabin on his quinquereme, each of them having been rowed from their own vessel for this extraordinary meeting, with only Torquatus and Flaminius missing. The night before, once Diocles had returned from the praetorium, Pullus went personally, wrapped in his sagum because of the torrential downpour and despite the simmering heat, to the quarters of each of the Primi Pili, spending only a few moments at each one, simply because it didn’t take long to learn what he had suspected. The only two to demur in joining in this effort by the Primi Pili had both given the same reason; neither of them felt their men had any real grievance against Caesar since they had just joined the army, but this had been expected.
Once Pullus returned, he told Diocles, “They all agree. We can’t get off the ships tomorrow, because if we try, there’s no telling what will happen.”
This was why they were all standing now, moving with the pitching of the deck, while Caesar sat behind the desk, his face looking as if it was carved in stone. Naturally, Pullus had been the one to utter the words, but Spurius and the others didn’t hesitate to add their voices, assuring their general they were of one mind. The silence stretched out, and Pullus was acutely aware of the sounds that, somewhat to his surprise, he had become accustomed to; the creaking of the timbers of the ship as it rolled in the swell, the sound of footsteps on the deck above them, and the rhythmic swishing sound of the oars as Caesar sat regarding them.
Finally, without changing his expression, or indicating in any way that he was experiencing the same strain his Primi Pili were feeling, Caesar said only, “Very well. We’ll spend the night aboard ship.” There was a sudden collective exhalation of breath, as each man released the tension they had been feeling, but their respite was short-lived as Caesar added, “But we’re not anchoring. We will continue underway.”
As quickly as it had come over them, the relief evaporated, with Pullus and Spurius exchanging an alarmed glance, but this time, when Spurius silently indicated that Pullus should speak again, his counterpart firmly shook his head.
Mouthing a curse, Spurius turned to address their general, saying carefully, “Caesar, that means that most of the men will be getting only a watch of sleep!”
Caesar regarded Spurius with a raised eyebrow, although his tone was mild as he agreed, “Yes, that sounds about right.”
When he said nothing else, Spurius, clearly flummoxed, looked at his comrades, and finally, Carfulenus spoke up. “But part of the reason the men want to stay aboard the ships is because they haven’t been getting much rest ashore, sir.”
For the first time, Caesar seemed moved, but he only sat back and crossed his arms, countering, “I understand the conditions are...not good,” he finally chose, which prompted a snort from Pullus that earned him a glare from Caesar; otherwise ignoring the large Centurion, he went on, “but they’re not any different for me, or any of you, for that matter.”
“And we’re all pretty fucking tired.” Mus clearly said this before thinking it through, and if the situation hadn’t been so serious, Pullus would have burst out laughing at the look of horror on the 7th’s Primus Pilus’ face for blurting this out.
This did cause Caesar to chuckle; more importantly, he nodded his head, agreeing, “As am I.” Taking a breath, he said, “Very well. We’ll anchor so that the men can get a full night’s rest…as can the rest of us. Besides,” he added this in a casual tone, but Pullus wasn’t fooled, “I was told by Lysimachus that we’re going to be reaching the mouth of the Narmada tomorrow late in the day.”
This came as no surprise to the Centurions; each of them had learned from the navarch of their own ships that they were nearing the spot, and Pullus decided that this was as good a time as any to at least try to find out what Caesar had planned.
“What then?” Pullus asked, and while Caesar was clearly peeved, neither was he surprised that the question had been asked.
“That depends,” Caesar replied, not wanting to divulge anything, but he instantly saw this wouldn’t be enough even as Pullus opened his mouth to press the issue, so he went on, “I’m going to send the cavalry ashore, and perhaps at least one Legion, although I haven’t decided on that. We need to do two things.” As always, once he began explaining something, he adopted a tone that Pullus thought was more appropriate for a master of rhetoric than a general. “First, we need to conduct a thorough scouting of the area around Bargosa and select a site for at least one camp from which we can then conduct our part of the siege. Second,” he extended another finger to join the first that he was holding up, his face suitably, and understandably, sober, “we must determine exactly where Pollio and Hirtius are, and when we can expect them to arrive. Or,” he allowed, though without much hope, “maybe they’re already nearby and just haven’t been able to get a courier through to us.”
This was straightforward enough and wasn’t unexpected, but as Caesar talked, Pullus and his comrades were carefully studying him, listening not to just what he said but how he said it, each of them searching for clues about the true state of mind of their commander. Like Caesar, each of them had spent a fair amount of their day on the deck of their ship, searching the nearby coastline for any sign of the signal fire that had been prearranged that was to send a small boat ashore to pick up the long-awaited word of where Pollio and his part of the army were located, and more importantly, how they were faring. And, although there had been such signal fires, it was only from the small number of scouts that Caesar had sent ahead of the fleet. As experienced as these hard-bitten men were, they each understood the inevitability that, with every passing day when no word came from the other Legions, the predictions made by the men in the ranks about the fate of their comrades became direr. And, as always happened, this became fodder for much wagering between men, with the current odds edging upwards towards a virtual certainty that Pollio, Hirtius, and the men under their command had been wiped out. Pullus was aware that at least part of this view was direct
ly caused by the overall mood of the men, which in turn was fueled by their level of misery, but neither could he deny the grim possibility that the reason for their lack of contact with Pollio was for the simplest reason; he and his men had been annihilated.
His thoughts in this direction were interrupted by Caesar saying, “If that’s everything, there are things I must attend to, and I don’t want to keep you from your duties either.”
With this unsubtle hint, the Primi Pili saluted and left Caesar’s cabin; none of them felt much better. It was certainly good news that they were going to be able to get a relatively good night’s rest, especially knowing that they were in proximity to their objective, and all the work that they knew would be part of any plan to take Bargosa. Despite this, there were too many unanswered questions for any of them to feel any level of confidence about overcoming whatever was facing them.
Twenty miles to the north of Bharuch, there was a belt of thick forest that ran at an angle along a southwest to northeast axis and which served as one of the primary sources for the hardwoods, particularly teak, that Abhiraka had selected as the first of what would be three lines of defense, the last being the walls of Bharuch themselves. Because of the harvesting of the hardwoods, there was a swathe running through this thick forest where the undergrowth had been cleared out, the trees weren’t as thick, and was almost perfectly aligned with the approaching Romans’ line of march. He was taking something of a gamble, but it was a canny one, particularly since it was based on so little information about this new enemy. But, for the previous week, his men had kept the Romans under constant observation, and what they reported confirmed what he had deduced once he learned of their route; these Romans always took the shortest path. And, while it wasn’t by any design, the thinnest part of this dense forest that, while not the kind of almost impenetrable jungle that lay in the Romans’ future, was nevertheless very thick, happened to be directly in the path of the oncoming Romans. While it was conceivable that they could sense a trap, Abhiraka didn’t think it likely that they would veer from their heretofore direct southerly march, especially when they would be forced to hack their way through the thick vegetation and cut down trees that, as their name implied, weren’t easily felled. No, he felt confident that the enemy would come right through the part of the forest that was the easiest to pass through, and that was where his men would be waiting. Certainly, it was difficult to conceal the presence of elephants, especially when other animals were downwind of them, but he had planned for this, while his skirmishers in particular were experts at concealment. His force of swordsmen weren’t quite as adept; it was more difficult for men wearing armor, especially when it was bronze, to blend in to their surroundings, but they would also be hidden away. For this first phase of the defense of the city, the only troops belonging to Abhiraka who would be visible in the cleared part of the forest would be his phalanxes. However, he had no intention of committing these men to battle; they were the bait, their real purpose to draw the Romans more deeply into the forest, with the hope that, sighting their enemy for the first time, the Romans would be less wary, concentrating on closing with his spearmen, who, on seeing the oncoming Romans, would seemingly lose heart and, while not fleeing, would begin withdrawing more deeply into the forest, which was more than a mile thick at this point. That would be when the jaws of the trap would close, as the skirmishers hidden in the thick underbrush on both sides of the cleared area would begin the real attack. The swordsmen would follow, also divided into two groups, but it was the hundred elephants assigned to this force that the king was certain would provide the killing blow. They would have the farthest distance to travel, because they would be using two specially created trails that his men had carved out, each of them more than a half-mile away from the cleared main path, one to the east and one to the west. Only a strip about a hundred paces deep on the northern edge was left undisturbed; Abhiraka was leaving nothing to chance, and he didn’t want this entire plan spoiled because a sharp-eyed Roman noticed there were two cleared patches on either side of their line of march as they approached. He didn’t think that he could score a decisive win; no matter how much the rumors of the Roman army’s invincibility may have been overblown, he wasn’t going to underestimate them. This was the force that had defeated the Parthians in two short years, then taken Pattala, but what he hoped to do was to force the Romans to become more cautious and deliberate in their advance, which in turn would give him even more time to prepare the second line of defense, which was almost completed.