Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he matched the map with the sudden realization of what the Dux had said. He looked up and down, measuring distances and roads in his mind... Aye, it could be. Melglos had given that he had proposed such a path after his men refused to cross the Alpinus mountains the year before.

  Now the Dux asked, "You have had more contact than any with men who know this Spartacus being, Tribune. What are your thoughts as to his next action?"

  Julius was giving much effort in hiding his internal conflict - to give assistance to a friend and crewmate, and one that had been sorely mistreated during his visit to this land. Or... To the lawful authority of Rome, of which he was an officer in the Army attempting to quell the uprising. With some dismay, he realized his duty. Melglos was one man, but thousands of people had been slain and much of the land despoiled - and such death and pillage would be continued unless this rebellion was ended.

  Julius pointed to the mountains far to the north, although only the first foothills were in display at the far end of the map. "He attempted to cross the Alpinus a year ago, but was thwarted by the greed of his men, seeing easy loot in the land. I doubt that he will now just stand in place and allow himself to be surrounded by three armies. If your scouts have him on the Flamerian Via, then he is probably giving that attempt again."

  Now one of the officers spoke with some disagreement. "Winter is upon us. He could never cross those heights..."

  "He does not have to. He merely needs to follow the coast to find himself in the upper lands of the Hellens."

  The discussion when on for hours, then as the day began to fade, the Dux turned to his officers. "We move at first light. Have traveling rations distributed before night - our pace will be far faster than our pack train can follow."

  Julius had ordered a small tent for himself and Valens, and now they sat inside with their evening meal, watching the light rain through the opening flap. After a while, the young man asked, "Will the Praetor Crassus have enough force to stop Mel... Spartacus and his band?"

  "Aye, if they can come to battle in proper order." He looked out the flap to make sure they were out of hearing of any passing by. In a lowered tone, he continued, "But, I doubt that such will happen. Melglos is marching on a goodly coastal road and we are now even behind him in any move to the north. And we have to cross the foothills to gain the eastern coast, and will be in chase of the rebels rather than blockage." He used a foot to scuff a smoothness in the dirt floor. With a stick he made a mark here and there, then, "If Pompey lands at Rome, or even Tarracina, and moves at once, he will have to almost run to engage. And, by then, Melglos will be behind the Apennines mountains, running north and south along the peninsula of Latium. It is almost as good as a wall to any large force trying to move east from Rome with any haste." Another jab with the stick. "As to Lucullus, landing in the city of Brundisium far to the south... He may as well be in Egypt for any chance of encounter with other than straggling units."

  There was a long pause, then Julius ended the conversation. "With any fortune, Melglos and his band will be long departed and the land free of the uprising, and without more thousands of men slain. Crassus cannot follow past the top of the Adriatic Sea without arranging for supplies - not in the winter. And such would take a pair of months at the least."

  In the first light of morning, Julius called Valens from the tent, even now being taken down by the men of the quartermasters. "I have a mission for you. Here is a scroll for the Petrel and another to be put on one of our ships to Neopolis. This one gives instructions to Densus, but what I have in desire is..."

  Chapter 52

  Crassus spared no one in his march to the east, and certainly not the legs and feet of his men. The midday meal was eaten even on the move, and the stops for rest were only long enough for the men to have their latrine needs and a few moments of sitting on their backsides. Surprisingly to Julius, the Dux ordered his officers to dismount and walk, in tow of their mounts, to give notice to the men that all would give equally in the effort.

  Julius had been in walking conference with a younger officer, one from the city of Barnum, on the eastern coast, and familiar with the layout of the land - or at least as much as could be remembered as a puerulus growing up in the area.

  "...Crassus is frantic that his triumph not be taken by the late comers," was the comment from the younger officer, he first looking around to make sure they were unheard of by any of the seniors. "Pompey, especially, is adept at arriving in time for glory without over-need of work." Julius nodded, knowing his thoughts had run the same course, then another question from his partner. "You have spoken of your knowing of the upper reaches of the sea, and the land of Dalmatia? Is it indeed a path for the escape of the slaves?"

  Julius nodded, then replied, "Aye, although I must give admit that my knowledge does not extend inward from the seaports. But, my memory of the maps of my old Pedagogue give that if Spartacus rounds the bend of the waters, then his chances of disappearing into the vast eastern lands is certain." A pause, then, "And, if certain men are to be believed, it is his native land."

  The march was made until almost darkness, then, against all strictures, a camp was made without the security of a palisade being built. The reason was to use the hours needed for such encampment for walking. With sharp rising hills and dense forests on either side of the minor road, the danger of sudden attack was minimal. Still, the night sentry-watch was doubled and moved a stadia away from the sleeping men.

  Morning brought more cold rations, and a tramping of feet even before the sun appeared. Before the mid of day, the front units suddenly found themselves approaching the minor port-city of Aufidena, and soon were on the Flamerian Via - that wide and well-constructed road that connected the southern reaches with the north, following the eastern coast of Latium for its full length. Scouts had determined that the slaves had not yet passed. Indeed, the citizens of the city had seen nothing of any band of men.

  To the north they could just see the peak of Garganus jutting out into the Adriatic Sea and Julius knew that a few handfuls of stadia to the northwest was the beginning of the chain of mountains known as the Apennines. But, his furious thoughts were not on the landscape, but on the realization that the rebels had not hastened their march to the north. To himself, he muttered, "This is making no sense. Melglos should have passed this city three days ago and more. His delay will be his doom."

  A hurried conference was made, then the entire body of scouting horsemen was sent south in scattered search for their quarry. Only now, did Crassus allow his men to have their rest, sending riders to find and guide their quartermasters and supply wagons to the encampment. There were no tents, including that of the Dux, but the Ingeniarii quickly constructed a pole shed with sloping roof covered with boughs cut from the needle trees. As a shelter from hard rain, it would soon be drenched, but for this day of light misting, it was sufficient to protect their maps, now laid on the crude table just constructed.

  The conference began without need of haste, with all under the crude shelter frequently turning to look to the south for any sign of returning scouts. "Did Spartacus turn back to engage Lucullus, rather than flee to the north?" asked one officer. "That would seem unwise."

  "Nay," said another. "Even should the slaves prevail, it would gain them nothing, and still in need of engagement with ourselves and Pompey. And with men depleted by a battle with veterans,"

  "Mayhap they have turned inland again..."

  "Nay!" interrupted the Dux. "Spinning such dream-cobwebs does us no good." To Julius, he asked, "What are your thoughts on Pompey?"

  Julius nodded. "Aye, Sos. I was given that he has landed in Rome, but apparently the ships with the bulk of his Legions are still at sea." He paused, then gave knowledge as a man of the sea. "The distance that Pompey has to travel is such as to make that of Lucullus, merely voyaging across from coast of Pontos, seem as a stroll to the Forum. I am not surprised at all that his ships are struggling against uncoopera
tive winds for such a long voyage, and probably scattered in a line over thousands of stadia of water. This time of the year can bring ill conditions of both too little wind or so much that to require the sails to be lowered as not to be torn from the mast."

  Crassus was a competent commander of soldiers, learning the art far in his past as a young Tribune in one of the interminable wars of Rome. Now, he used that knowledge to plan a battle, rather than a chaotic skirmish with rampaging slaves. "...depending on how far south the mob is at the moment, this collection of grainfields is large enough to formate the entire Legion in line." He was tapping the map with a finger. "Or, this one, if their position is even further away." More pointing, then, "I want the cohorts of Falconius here... And those of yours, Flavius, adjoining and against the shoreline. Ceionius. Bend your line against the trees, here, then..."

  The day passed slowly, with little more to be said or planned until at least a bare minimum of information was returned by the scouts. It was almost sundown before the quartermaster train appeared with good rations and tents for the night, now erected, not in the usual squared compound favored by Roman Legions on the march, but close to where the men would fight, should the battle take place here.

  The next day passed, then the next and the next, with Crassus beginning to fear that the slave army had indeed gone south to confront Lucullus and his Legions from the war in Pontos. Or mayhap, even back down the long finger of land that was the region of Bruttium. That would make little sense for men trying to escape the land, to guarantee their entrapment in a narrow spit of land.

  Ever since they had touched the eastern coast of Latium, Julius had been in watch out to sea, knowing that unless the winds were stimulated to favor by the furies, his expectations were premature, but finally he saw the small sail with the black-crossed banner at the masthead. The little speculatoria was following the land only a stone's throw out, and with the crew looking inland for their destination. Taking his spare under-tunic from his bag, he quickly gained a horse, then made a fast trot to the edge of the water, on a pair of stadia from the center of the encampment. It was unnecessary, but he waved the cloth overhead, watching as a man in the boat waved back, and shortly the missive boat of Capitaneus Decimus was hove onto the sands. The men grinned as the Captain leaped to the sand, to stride and accept the greetings of Julius. "You made goodly pace, my friend."

  Grinning himself, the Captain replied, "Aye. This is not a trudging hulk as you are used to commanding. But, the winds were fair and the distance not far and yon Valens gave that haste was of the essence."

  Now, his young batman jumped onto the sand, striding over to the same greeting. "Densus is on the way, Sos, but he disappeared behind us on the first day."

  Julius nodded. The Petrel was definitely not the slow hulk as given in jape by Decimus, but even so, it had only half the pace of the speculatoria in a goodly wind. "What news from the other side of the land?"

  The Captain of the missive boat shook his head. "Nothing had come from either Capua or Rome before we left Paestum, Sos. It was the wonder of all of what has happened here."

  Julius shook his head. "Nothing as yet. I expected Melglos and his men to have long passed these parts before we arrived, but he has not. He is apparently somewhere to the south, mayhap moving on Lucullus and his Legions."

  "Nay, Sos. As of yesterday, we hove into Brundisium for the hour. The noble Lucullus is still forming his army. Indeed, even as we departed, we saw many of his ships waiting to unload and others not yet at anchor."

  "Ah. The Dux will gain satisfaction from that news. But... As to the intentions of our big crewmate..." He spread his hands. "Despite much thought, I have not gained a morsel of knowing." He looked back at the encampment, then said, "You may wait in yon city, rather than just idling on this shore. When the Petrel arrives, give Densus the same orders. Watch for our movement, then follow us down the coast." He gave a wry smile, then, "Or mayhap with our flight to the north, if Melglos gives us the bottom of his sandal again."

  With a farewell, Julius and Valens helped push the boat off the sand, then walked back to the camp, Julius giving his young Cacula the slim news of what had happened while he had been in voyage around the coast of Latium.

  He immediately sought out the Dux, to deliver the welcome news about the Legions of Lucullus - or rather, it was welcome to a man not desiring the victory to fall to a General newly come to the land. For himself, Julius would have given much gold to see the man - and the army of Pompey - arrive in assistance to ending this disastrous war and allow the land to return to a semblance of peace.

  On the mid of the forth day, Julius and Valens jumped from their rest in the tent at a shout in the distance. They saw, immediately, a scout in gallop and no doubt with some news of importance. Both hurried over to the command tent, just as the messenger jumped from his mount to stride through the flap. "From Decurio Strabo, Sos. The slaves are in march up the road, with the leading edge at Axetiu. The numbers are given estimate at two counts of ten thousand, Sos." The report came as a formal recitation, no doubt given to the rider several times by his officer, the Decurio, that it might be committed to memory. "There are few but men with the group. The scouts have seen no train of animals nor women."

  Even as the man was speaking, eyes moved to the map to find the small village that he had given. Julius had never heard of it, but quickly a staff officer was tapping the location with a finger. It was about two hundred stadia south, on the Flamerian Via. They would be here on the morrow, or earlier if they walked through the night.

  As the man finished, Crassus said, "They are moving without carrying supplies. Their intent is to take from the land in their need. Such plans will allow them to travel swiftly." He stood, in thought for the moment, then said, "We will make camp in line formation. I wish no sudden surprise in the morning with our soldiers still in tents. Tell the men that the morrow will be full, and if they wish to see the next sunrise, then do not forget their training."

  With nothing to do, Julius and Valens returned to their tent, now empty of all. The other occupants had been veteran Centurions who would be moving most of the night among their men, readying all for the morrow. Now, sitting again on a ragged mat, Julius said to his companion, "I am bewildered at to the delay of Spartacus in moving north. He could have been far beyond even the city of Patavium by now, had he marched with haste. Far enough that we would not even see their backsides now."

  "Mayhap his men see themselves as redeemers of the land," was the reply. "Or still with the attraction of looting a wealthy land."

  Julius shook his head. "If so, then it is the vision of fools. I have no idea of the forces brought by the Generalis from Pontos and Hispania, but even with only a Legion each, such veterans will make short work of any number of untrained men." He waved his hand vaguely in the distance. "Even those of Crassus are now blooded with a victory and enhanced with the memory of it."

  The entirety of the encampment was awake and roused before the first streaks gave indication of morning. The sounding of the horns made little stir in the camp - men facing desperate battle on the next light seldom need the tubicinis and cornus to give awakening. Long before commands were bellowed by the Decanuae and Centurions, the soldiers were laced in their kit with weapons inspected and carefully placed. And then given scrutiny again, each carefully examining the blades and spears, and themselves, for any slightest defect.

  Unlike a veteran Legion in a far land, these of Crassus did not have cavalry - other than mounted scouts - and no Centuries of Scythian bowmen, and only a few units of the lightly armed Velites that would skirmish firstly with any oncoming enemy, blunting any sudden charge by the foe. The entirety of the force was several thousand infantry, in three lines, with each Century separated from its neighbors by a length of five strides to each side and back to front.

  With the coming of light, Julius could see into the distance, and already a considerable number of men in wait. This was apparently the forefront of t
he oncoming slave army, suddenly stopped at the surprise of seeing a Roman army in formation and ready.

  They stood away from the group of officers sending orders to every part of the field, merely watching across the flatness of these fields, now fallow after the harvest and with the upcoming winter.