Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  For the first half month, there was little to see but trees on either side of the roads, interspersed by villages and a city on occasions - none as yet subjected to the ravages of the rebels. Apparently, the path of Spartacus, both to the north and return, had been on the coastal roads to the east of the peninsula. That would change in a few days, Julius knew, when they entered the lands north and east of Capua, where the mobs of slaves and raiders had roamed over the countryside. But for now, the Legionaries were greatly inflated by the relieved cheers of the citizenry to finally see an army of Rome, come to destroy the rebels before they returned to pillage even more of the land.

  Even with the count far less than those available to the rebels, Julius was not as worried over such numbers, as the fact that the Legions, although well trained, were composed of Tyros - men in the main, who had never faced another man trying to separate head from body. He had long learned, in his hirement or rejection of crewmen on his ships, that although a man might have, and demonstrate, great skills with a weapon, the test of his mettle was the first encounter with a foe. This army would fight as a unit, not as wildly flailing individuals, and he hoped the first battles would be gentle enough to give the men some confidence in their training officers.

  When they reached the major city of Fregellae, he sent one of his missive riders west, to the port of Terrracina, only about two hundred stadia in distance and on a good road. The next day the man returned with the expected tablet, giving by the waiting speculatoria of Capitaneus Amulius. In the command tent at the nightly encounter, he gave the contents to the assembled officers. "The bulk of the rebels have reached the region of Lucania, now investing the city of Popilii, but apparently some outriding units are roaming the countryside in pillage again. And as far east and north as Asculum."

  The Dux slowly nodded, looking at the map on the table. "They are far from the main body. Do you have numbers?"

  "Refugees give the usual clamor, of course, that the raiders are as numerous as grains of sand on the shoreline, but if the unit is moving merely for the gathering of supplies for the winter, then I doubt it has more than an equivalent of a few cohorts. Any more would just be feet traveling the roads for no reason."

  The discussion went on for a time, then the Dux said, "I believe we will move to discuss our displeasure with this raiding band, and give our own men some taste of blood." He pointed to one of his Commanders, one Mummius by name, and unknown noble of Rome to Julius. "You will take half the cohorts in the 17th and move along the Appian Way to contact. We will bound down the Popitian Via to confinement to the rebels from moving back to the coastal lands. Make a blocking formation in wait for our driving the slaves toward you. Mayhap we can cut the haunch in sections, rather than trying to eat it all in a massive feast."

  The martial skill of Crassus was unknown to Julius as yet, but he was gratified to see that once a proposal of action was decided, there was no hesitation. Very shortly, the horns were sounding assembly and the men began the march, the smaller group splitting off to follow the main road that connected the ends of the Peninsula together over almost four thousand stadia. The main body would diverge to follow the lesser road of Popitian, following the westerner coastline down the length of land.

  In two days they came to Capua, although the bulk of the army did not march through the city itself. Such a procession would be delayed by the twisting streets of the city, and the many taburnae an irresistible attracts to the ranks. Julius and Valens made a quick foray into the city, giving both a chance to meet with their families, but mainly to both check for any news or missives and to pass on new orders to the ships wandering the coast for such information. Despite the desire of mothers - Patrician and Plebeian, both - for their sons to stay the night on comfortable mats, Julius declined with the stricture that officers did not lay in comfortable cubiculi while their men slept on the ground. They merely nodded at the statement, giving orders for the kitchen to pack viands to the extent that would have fed an entire Contubernium for days. Realizing the futility of protesting, the two men slung the huge bags over their mounts, with Julius intending to lighten their load as soon as they passed a unit stopped for rest.

  Asculum, the city where the foraging rebels had been seen last, was to the east, and the army turned down the road leading toward the rising sun. Another missive had come by horse, having just missed Julius in the city. He gave the welcome news to the Dux as soon as he had read the scroll. "...and the bulk of forces with Spartacus are still in travel to the south, but still not with any haste."

  That news was good. The slaves that were roaming the countryside were just a fraction of the forces that would be encountered firstly, giving the new Legions some needed battle experience. If his plans worked, the unit of raiders would be caught between the cohorts of Commander Mummius and those of Crassus coming from the west, with the only route of escape being toward the sea to the east.

  "Sos! Sos!" Julius woke instantly, reaching for his gladius before recognizing the owner of the voice behind the call. As he sat up, his Cacula said, "Scouts are in gallop through the sentry posts."

  "From Mummius?"

  "I do not know, Sos. But their numbers and haste do not give belief that they are bringing news of celebration."

  "What is the hour."

  "Mayhap, the tenth, Sos. I had risen to make my water, hearing the clopping of mounts arriving. Under the torches at the command tent, I could see three or four horses in hold."

  Julius gave a long sigh, standing to gather his garb and weapons, trying to remember the remnants of the pleasant night-vision, with himself again on the Petrel and listening to the Sirens on the rocks, giving their pleasing song to passing sailors... "Let us go find what wondrous gift that Melglos has bestowed on us this night." They had not even moved past the flap of the tent when the single horn, a buccina, sounded the three notes of officer's call. "That answers the question. I doubt that we are called to a feast given by the Dux in the cool of the morning."

  The inside of the command tent was not yet filled with officers, and those already arrived were speaking in quiet tones. The Dux had dislike for officers chattering as if females at the washing racks of the river, and all kept their comments under control, unless actually giving some words of military use. He could see three men of the scouting units, red armbands and shoulder ribbons giving identity to men to whom giving delay was a serious offense. Men strode into the tent in a stream, then the General entered from his private quarters, standing to wait as the tent flap finally ceased to admit more. Finally, "Word has come that Commander Mummius has been engaged on the Appian Way. Apparently his men are in retreat, but ask me no more - that is the sum of my information. How long to first light?" This last was to a staff officer, who held up two fingers. "Then call the men to order and give rations of whatever can be used without the cooks. Quintus!" A man stepped forward, with acknowledgment. This was the head of the Eques speculatorae - the unit of mounted scouts. "At the moment I am blind, without even the knowledge of where this battle occurred. Find both the place of both Mummius and the force of slaves."

  Torches flared all over the encampment as men were roused. It would not be possible to march until at least the gleam of light appeared in the east, but by then the Legions would be in ranks and ready. Valens had packed the few belongings of himself and his officer - those would be picked up and put in the wagons by the quartermaster unit when the tents were taken down. Now he asked, "Should I send another rider to Capua for missives, Sos? Before we march away inland."

  Julius shook his head. "Nay, there is little chance of a boat bringing news of any foe or battle that is six hundred stadia inland."

  The march had not yet even seen the yellow ball of the sun rise above the trees before men began to appear ahead. Soldiers, they were, but not in military formation, nor even deportment. In singles and pairs, small groups and even Contubernium sized units, they were in hurried stride to the west. Many were giving hint of exhaustion, that their
earlier movements might have been at a dead run.

  After his sudden surprise at the sight of loose Legionaries, Crassus angrily gave orders to his staff to have the fleeing men stopped in their flight and collected together. By the end of the first hour, the Dux was in such a state that his officers, usually following closely to their leader, were attempting to find some need or task that would remove themselves from the burst that would soon appear, mayhap to engulf all in the vicinity.

  Julius had no experience in land battles, but to his eyes the stragglers were not the residue of an army defeated in battle - none had any visible wounds and their haste gave the same finding that legs were entirely undamaged. A few did not even have their kit, wearing nothing but tunic and sandals. In a voice barely hearable by his batman, he said, "This has all the signs of a rout rather than a battle. I would say that none that we have seen so far have even swung a weapon in anger." The young Valens, only a year beyond his full manhood, just shook his head. He did not even have the experience of a shipboard skirmish with pirates - indeed, his mock clashes with Ngozi in training were the extent of his military knowledge.

  The Legions ended their march long before midday, encamping in a field and immediately put to work raising a fortification to enclose the entirety of the area that would be used at night. Afterward the men were allowed to rest, but in full kit and without wandering away from their units. The scouts that were not engaged in the collection of the fleeing men of Commander Mummius, were ranging in all directions in search of any approaching force of the slave army.

  For the entirely of the day, the mounted cavalry brought in their collections of straggling Legionaries, until the section of the encampment designated as their place was filled. Finally, some of the scouts appear on the road with the Commander Mummius and his entire staff in follow. Julius and a few of the staff members were at the table, leaning over the map and attempting to make a determination of the whereabouts of the enemy might be assembling - or even in march, mayhap.

  And enemy was the correct word. No longer were the rebels considered mere slaves, or rabble, or an organized mob. They had destroyed almost every Roman army sent against them, failing only once and that by the missteps of a greedy Lieutenant in disobayment of the orders of Spartacus. And, to the mind of Julius, the losses were not that the foe was superior in skills, but that the leaders of the Romans were contemptuous of their foe before the battles were fought.

  As the unfortunate Commander entered the tent to salute and give his explanations, assumedly, the Dux ordered all but himself and Mummius out of the tent, and to post the area to keep any ears from hearing the conversation.

  Alas, for the desires of the noble General, his encampment was far too small to allow for any such diminishment of hearing. Even to the far tables and supply wagons of the cooks, the voice of the Dux carried through the thick fabric of the tent to give to all his opinion of the efforts of a Roman officer. Julius and Valens were standing with a group of officers, mostly the younger men of the staff, all noble and all in the field in an actual war for the first time. The comments were many among them, but whispered as if they were standing beside the command tent itself.

  "Do you give thought that the Dux will have him nailed to a crossbar?" said one.

  "Nay. He is the son of a Senator. Such are thrown from the Tarpeian Rock."

  Unfortunately, from their distance, they could only hear the oaths and bellowings of their commanding officer, and not the explanations or questions, but not for the offer of mortal entry to the slopes of Olympus would any of the officers step closer to the tent. Any of the young officers would find it less perilous to skulk at the portal of Hades. And, looking across the area, Julius could see that the few senior officers were as dubious as to approaching the tent unrequested.

  Suddenly, the flap of the tent was pushed aside and a bellow emerged. "Publius! Attend me."

  The chief officer of his staff ran across the distance as if a newly inducted Tyro at the call of his Centurion. All waited in anticipation for... whatever was to happen next, then were disappointed as the time passed without further sounds or orders. Half the day was left - indeed, it had not even become the time for the midday meal. Julius doubted that the Legions would just halt in pause, allowing the slave army to retreat - or, even form for more battle, but little happened for the next hour. Then...

  The staff officer strode from the tent, shouting formation for the officers. He ordered the camp to the meal, then to spend the afternoon in further training. The senior officers were called back, but none of the group that was standing with Julius. Finally, he moved to sit at his tent, in watch of the masses of men in formation, moving forward to throw their spears, the iron pilum, then advancing to contact with the imaginary foe. Then to regroup and perform the same act until the rest break was called. For the entirety of the afternoon the training commenced, stopping only when the evening rations were ready to be distributed.

  The day ended with no further events, but it was the next morn that brought the unbelievable - and not only to Julius. At the break of day, the officers were assembled in the great tent, waiting for... whatever was to happen, then the Dux appeared with his handful of senior officers. His choler had not dissipated in the night, and without preamble he began his harsh words. "The detached cohorts of the 17th have disgraced not only their Legion but also the people of Rome. Neither has the Commander given service that is to be expected of a leader of my army, and indeed, has failed to follow even the core of my orders. He has been relieved and sent back to Rome in disgrace. But, even with the failings of their officers, I do not expect the men of the Legion to bolt and run from a battle, and without most even gaining an honorable wound to give credence to a withdrawal."

  He paused, but not for need. The tent could have been the isle of the dead for the lack of any sound. It was as if the assembled men were barely giving breath, to lessen the possibility of being noticed and singled out for...

  "We are fortunate to be in a remote region of Latium, that the people of Rome, and the cities of this land cannot see the wretched sight of Legionaries running in fright from slaves, and displaying their craven cowardice to such a degree as to throw away their weapons and armor that their feet might have a lessened task. This disgrace must be requited with blood, and for demonstration to the men of the penalty for such shame." He turned to his chief staff officer. "Publius, serve the order!"

  The tent was emptied of men, most still in some wonder at the meaning of the Dux, but all watched as the entirety of the Legions were assembled around the edges of the wide field used on the yesterday for drill. Of course, such orders did not include the scouts, or cavalry, or the units detailed on guard at the far reaches of the encampment.

  Julius joined the staff officers in their own formation in front of the main body of Legionaries, still in wonder at the happenings of the moment. All knew that some punishment was to be, but as to the actual... "The cohorts of Mummius will be stripped of their citizenship and forbidden to return," whispered a man behind him.

  "Aye," agreed another. "And mayhap flogged through the gates."

  "Nay. They will be consigned to the punishment companies. It happened in the war with Volscia, according to my Pedagogus."

  Silence fell as the men of the cohorts, gathered in during the last two days and the night by the scouts, or having walked the distance to join with the main group, were marched out to their own formation in the center of the massed Legion. Eventually, the men formed ranks of their own units, but with irregular counts. At least a third of the total was missing, either dead or fled to remoter parts. Then, the Centurions began to walk the lines, giving count, then calling this man and that out to stand alone.

  "By the raging oaths of Nemesis!" came a sudden exclamation from his dexter side. "It is decimation!"

  "Silence in the line!" came a hissed bark from a senior, emphatic in tone, although held to a lesser volume as if he himself had desire not to be noticed. "Unless you ha
ve craving to join in the deed!"

  As one man in ten of the unfortunate men of Mummius were called to their own formation, separate of their fellows, a tall block was brought to the fore. Immediately, the Dux mounted the platform, then ritually opened a scroll, holding it in the reading position as if he were a crier on the Forum platform. "By the authority invested in myself by the people and Senate of Rome, to suppress and otherwise free the land of the current unrest, I..." The preamble went on and on, then finally the last few sentences gave the notice that the entire field was waiting for with bated breath. "...and for cowardly conduct improper for soldiers of Rome, to flee from mere slaves and without either orders or reason, and to do so in the most craven fashion that is unbelievable to any having not seen the actuality of the deed, the culpable recreants will suffer punishment to fit the uniqueness of the day." He turned to the Senior Centurion, then barked, "Carry out the declared penalty!"