by Peter Tonkin
‘His actions during the last month have established him as the greatest threat to the Republic – to Cicero and the Senate. He knows they will have to move against him as soon as possible. The only thing stopping them acting at once is the refusal of Brutus and Cassius to bring their legions out of the East and into Italy. A refusal that is not likely to be permanent if things remain as they are. Because Caesar believes that somewhere and sometime soon, the armies who stand for Divus Julius and those that stand for the men who murdered him must meet in one great battle to decide the fate of the Republic.
‘It seems logical to him therefore that you should join together. His letters also try to persuade generals Plancus and Pollio to join you or him. But preferably you, General, as you are closer to them in location as well as in many other regards. The only military leader Caesar is unsure of is Decimus Albinus. Like General Plancus, Decimus Albinus and his legions have left the camp they occupied when we went east and south in July. I have no information as to where they are and where their allegiances lie at the moment.’
‘Plancus has gone to talk to Pollio,’ said Enobarbus, glancing up from his task.
‘And Decimus Albinus is somewhere in the Alps,’ added Antony. ‘His legions seem to be deserting him piecemeal...’
‘His tribune Popilius Lenas has gone over to Caesar,’ said Artemidorus. ‘Taken the Centurion Herrenius with him. I saw them both in Rome just before I left. Which reminds me. Do you have a Tribune called Gaius Gallius in the Fifth Legion? I have news of his brother Quintus. Sad news.’ He took a breath then continued. ‘Popilius Lenas is only a thin stripe Tribune, with more social standing on the cursus honorum than actual military power but Herrenius is a senior Centurion so they could well have taken a thousand men with them.’
Antony and Enobarbus exchanged a long look. ‘That ties in with what we’ve heard,’ nodded Antony. ‘If Decimus Albinus was a chicken he’d be completely plucked right about now.’
‘Would you like me to go and see, general?’
‘What?’
‘Once I’ve settled the contubernium. Finished briefings and updates to your satisfaction. Gretorex and I could go up into the mountains. Ask a few local tribes what they’ve heard. After what Lenas, Herrenius and their men got up to up there we have plenty of friends and Decimus has none. Find out what state Decimus is in. Maybe find out what his plans are – and whether Cicero and the Senate are still keen to back him. While Tribune Enobarbus and you find out what Plancus and Polloio intend, Gretorex and I can track Decimus. Send word. Bring you news...’
‘Or bring me the bastard’s head!’ Said Antony, slapping his hand down onto the table. ‘Yes! That would really get everything back on the road we have chosen to follow! So, Septem. Why don’t you and Gretorex go up into the mountains as you suggest and be quick about it. Find the little nothus. And bring me back his head!’
Part Two
October – December 711AUC
IX
LAVINIUS
October
i
‘I’ve changed my mind, Septem. Get rid of it,’ shouted Antony. ‘If we were going straight to Rome there might be some point in taking it but there’s no telling how long we’ll be hanging around in Bononia waiting for that bloody boy to realise what’s good for him. It’s starting to stink. By the time we get to spike it in the Forum, it will look more like a rotten rapum turnip than Decimus Albinus’ head.’
‘More like a crambe cabbage,’ said Ventidius Bassus, who was riding at Antony’s left shoulder while Lepidus rode at his right. ‘It’s going green.’
‘And it’s leaking,’ added Lepidus with a shiver.
The generals were riding in a tight group with Plancus and Pollio immediately behind. Close enough together to be holding a conversation as they led their armies eastward along the Via Postumia on their way to meet Caesar’s command at Bononia.
Or rather one element of it. Somewhere near Bononia. In numbers already negotiated in the letters that had passed between them. At a site yet to be agreed.
They were in no particular hurry, thought Artemidorus as he trotted along beside them and waited for Antony to hand over the sack with Decimus Albinus’ head in it, currently hanging from his saddle. They had spent the early days of October crossing the Alps and now were almost dawdling through the middle of the month, making their plans as they came south and east. While Ferrata, Mercury and Furius rode between the two camps, carrying letters from the two commanders to and fro. Antony’s as encoded by Notus and beautifully written by Adonis. The tribune and the centurion might have eased back from their secret duties while exercising with Quintus, Venus, Kyros, Hercules and Puella, all honing each-others’ skills. But most of the rest of the contubernium remained hard at work.
Antony planned on leaving the bulk of his force at Piacenza and proceeding with only five legions to meet Caesar. Who promised to bring only five of his own when he came to meet him. Caesar would be bringing Agrippa and Maecenas at the very least to advise him. Antony planned on taking Lepidus and Ventidius Bassus as well as Enobarbus, Artemidorus and the group of agents they controlled. The mood amongst the generals, their officers and their men was as sunny as the weather.
On marches like this, remembered Artemidorus, Divus Julius used to ride in a carriage. Where many of his memoirs were dictated. Antony was at heart a cavalryman who enjoyed spontaneity even in battle and had no intention of recording his past as it mostly contained indiscretions. So he rode on horseback. And because Antony rode, so did generals Bassus, Lepidus, Pollio and Plancus while the seventeen legions now under Antony’s effective control marched behind them. It was important that the generals trotted close enough together so they could discuss their plans. If Antony and Caesar, who he still insisted on calling that bloody boy, came to an agreement they would between them control a vast force of 28 legions, thought the spy as he waited for Albinus’ head. They had a great deal to plan for, whether the meeting was a success or not.
Side-tracked by Ventidius Bassus’ observation about the state of Decimus Albinus’ head, Antony fell into a conversation with his friend, giving Artemidorus further opportunity to assess the situation and the possible outcome of their leisurely journey out of the mountainous Alps and down to the flat plains drained by the Po.
During September, when he had been hunting Decimus Albinus, and since he returned with his head, relations between Antony and young Caesar had mellowed. At first angered by the news that Caesar had made the Senate appoint him and his relation Quintus Pedius as suffet-Consuls to replace their dead predecessors Hirtius and Pansa for the three or so months remaining of their consulships, Antony had been mollified by the new consuls’ subsequent actions. The speed with which Pedius caused the Senate to revoke the sentence of Hostis passed against Antony and Lepidus – restoring their property. Fulvia was happily back in the villa Antony had bought at a notoriously knock-down price after Pompey’s downfall. And when Fulvia was happy, so was Antony. Though not quite as happy as he was when Queen Cleopatra was happy - and within arm’s reach.
Furthermore, Quintus Pedius insisted that the bill of Hostis be passed against Brutus and Cassius instead. Who, with their armies in the East, were now outlaws in the eyes of the Senate and People of Rome. With their property confiscated and their families out on the street – or reliant upon the kindness of friends. Such as the politically astute and ever-generous Atticus.
Then the old general went further still and rose even higher in Antony’s esteem. He passed the Lex Pedia which effectively outlawed not only Divus Julius’ surviving murderers but also those who had been most outspoken in their support of the brutal assassination. Those accused were tried and condemned in absentia. No defence was offered. None could be. They had boasted of their crime - or their association with it - to the world. Condemning themselves out of their own mouths. So, at last Cicero found himself on the wrong side of the law. He was hiding in one of his seaside villas - either in Puteoli or Formia - but n
obody was actually hunting him.
Yet.
***
Decimus’ head came sailing across the blue of the early autumn sky like a black moon trailing the material of the bag it was in. Artemidorus caught the rough cloth, allowing the weight of the ball inside to swing the stinking, sweating bundle away from him. As he turned his horse to jump over the ditch beside the via, Ventidius Bassus called after him, ‘Nineteen heads to go!’
‘No!’ Roared Antony. ‘Twenty. I’ve officially added that nothus bastard Cicero to the list!’
‘Probably to keep Fulvia sweet,’ observed Enobarbus, who pulled his mount alongside Artemidorus’ just in time to hear Antony’s last remark.
‘She’s been through a lot,’ answered Artemidorus. ‘The children too.’
‘Casualties of the war between the General and the Senator,’ nodded Enobarbus. ‘And, the Gods know, there have been enough of those over the years.’
‘Including the poor bastard whose head I’m just about to bury. I almost feel sorry for him.’
‘Don’t waste your pity. Remember what he did to Divus Julius. In many ways Decimus Albinus wielded the sharpest dagger. And why bury it yourself? We have seventeen legions of Marius’ mules behind us and every man amongst them has a spade or an entrenching tool. Delegate, Septem.’
‘It wouldn’t be right, Tribune. I took it. I’ll get rid of it. There’s a kind of morality about these things.’
‘Is that a Stoic I hear talking? Diogenes or Zeno?’
‘Zeno, perhaps.’
‘As you wish... You there, legionary. The Centurion needs your spade. He wants to dig a hole and bury his head in it.’
Artemidorus took his reins in his left hand – which also held the weighty bag - and reached down as the bemused legionary obediently handed up his spade, then fell out of line as he transferred the rest of his kit onto the shaft of his pilum. ‘I won’t be long,’ Artemidorus assured him as he jogged off to catch up with his squad. Then he and Enobarbus cantered away towards the hills that still ringed the northern horizon.
‘How do you think they’re going to do it? Trust each other enough to meet face to face? Given that Antony still half believes young Caesar sent the assassin Myrtillus after him...’
‘While Caesar thinks Antony had a hand in Quintus Gallius’ attempt on his life last month.’
‘It’ll take some thinking through. But we’ll come up with something. We have to. And fast – before they go for each others’ throats.’
Artemidorus reined to a halt and slid down off his horse, throwing the reins to Enobarbus – a considerable achievement, laden as he was. He dropped the bag and began to dig its grave. Using the physical activity as an excuse to do a bit of quiet thinking.
He had reported the Quintus Gallius incident to Enobarbus in detail. But he had been more circumspect with Antony, easing back on Caesar’s suspicions, simply remarking on the coincidence that Quintus Gallius’ brother Marcus Gallius was a tribune on Antony’s staff. He had also emphasised that Quintus Gallius had been last seen sailing south. Without detailing the state he had been in when he did so. Or the fact that he was on fire at the time. It was his task and calling to speak truth to power. But only when the truth was relevant and important.
The secret agent was still trying to work out the full implications of the disturbingly unexpected ruthless streak in the young man – who had demanded the second eye and trodden on it so callously. So coldly. Without even the faintest hint of the strange thrill men like Trebonius, Minucius Basilus or, apparently, Quintus Cicero, Marcus Tullius’ younger brother, seemed to get from inflicting suffering on other men and women. He was certain that if Antony knew the details of Gallius’ torture he would try and use the information against Caesar. And might well pass it to Tribune Marcus Gallius as well, starting another round of revenge upon revenge. Like the round between Antony and Decimus Albinus he was finally burying now. Like the one between Antony and Cicero which could also only end in death. And, from the sound of things, by the taking of at least one more head.
ii
The seventeen legions lingered at Piacenza, taking time to decide which twelve Antony and his allies were planning to leave behind. Piacenza was a military city anyway and welcomed the extra troops who set up their castra between the farms and smallholdings on the flat, fertile plains outside the city walls, but were given the freedom to go into town on occasion and spend some of the meagre pay Antony had managed to raise for them. In contrast to the rumoured 2,500 denarii per man Caesar had awarded his legions as soon as his divine father’s will had been fully ratified. With the promise of the same again to come later if they stayed loyal.
When the General moved on with his five legions, he took the Alaude of course. The Thirty-fifth; the most experienced and the best disciplined of the others, who had followed him to almost certain death in the Alps without a second thought. Then he included one of the legions Bassus had smuggled to him. Lepidus’ crack legion. Then the strongest that Plancus and Pollio could offer him from amongst theirs. He needed the best disciplined and most battle-hardened in case Caesar turned on him with the Martia and the Fourth. And because the men marching south with him were after all missing out on the rest and relaxation being enjoyed by their colleagues. Antony also left generals Plancus and Pollio, strict disciplinarians, to make sure it wasn’t all feasting and fornicating in his absence. Though those, as Ferrata observed to Puella in a dangerously loud voice, were two of Antony’s favourite pastimes.
Then, with his five legions, Lepidus and Bassus, as well as Enobarbus, Artemidorus and their full contubernium, Antony began to travel down the Via Aemilia. The first 90 military miles of which was all that separated him from Bononia and his planned meeting with the bloody boy. He also took Gretorex and his five-hundred strong Gaulish cavalry wing. Which, he observed, was an independent unit and could not be counted amongst the legions.
‘Marcus Aemilius, my wise old friend,’ he said to Lepidus as they rode south on the afternoon of the first day’s march. ‘I want you to be the go-between. I trust you of course and the bloody boy has no reason not to.’
‘I see that...’
‘You sound hesitant, pater Lepidus.’
‘I would feel more comfortable if I could take someone that Caesar does actually trust. Having no reason not to trust me is not really a strong enough argument, is it, Antony?’
‘I suppose not, pater. And I can see very clearly where your logic is leading. Do you just want Septem or is it the whole contubernium you’re after?’
‘Was it not a dictum of Divus Julius’ that one can never be too well prepared?’
‘I believe he was thinking of battles, pater... But, yes. Ventidius, have you any crucial work for Septem and his spies?’
‘No, Antony,’ answered Ventidius Bassus, amused by the byplay.
‘Then you may have them, senex old man. Take them, take a bodyguard if they are not sufficient in themselves, and ride ahead. Give the boy warning of our approach – we should reach Bononia in three days, perhaps four at this rate. By which time I would hope that you and he will have hammered out some kind of plan for our meeting. I really do not want to be hanging around any longer than I have to. I’ve already lost the chance of displaying several heads in the Forum and I’m impatient to start collecting some of the others on the list.’
***
Lepidus decided against taking anyone other than the crypteia which formed the heart of Artemidorus’ contubernium for it was easy to arrange fast horses for six, but not more. Enobarbus and Artemidorus were already mounted. Gretorex as legate of Antony’s cavalry alae wing was happy to supply horses for Puella, who rode like a Gaul in any case, Quintus, who rode like a statue, Hercules who was a little less tense; Ferrata, Mercury and Furius who had become skilled horsemen carrying Antony’s and Caesar’s messages. Venus, Adonis, Kyros and Nonus remained behind. Even so, the eight-soldier unit seemed guard enough even for a general travelling fast and light. If
Antony was secretly impressed by the old man’s willingness to proceed at speed and with a minimum of ceremonial, he did not show it.
Artemidorus did. ‘He’s Pontifex Maximus,’ he said to Enobarbus as they thundered south into the gathering night. ‘The gods know what honours and escorts should accompany him. And all he’s got is us!’
‘We’d better be worthy, then,’ grated Enobarbus.
‘Damn right,’ added Ferrata roundly. ‘Because the gods only know what sorrow he could bring down on us if we prove to be unworthy. In this life and the next...’
But the Pontifex Maximus proved to be a particularly good man to escort. Especially as Lepidus, vain about his position and forward thinking in any case, was careful to put his badges of office into his saddle bags together with the necessities he needed for the journey. They reached the ruined city of Parma soon after nightfall. The place, destroyed by Antony during his retreat into the mountains after his defeat at Modena, was only just beginning to recover. Damage was being repaired. The walls and gates had been strengthened – though they remained unguarded. Although the city seemed largely deserted, there were lights burning at the major cross-roads and a secretive bustling in the shadows. Lepidus led them confidently through almost vacant streets between burned-out buildings to the Temple of Venus, which still stood undamaged. The temple to the founder of Divus Julius’ bloodline. Which none of the men who worshipped him – on either side of the battle – would therefore dare to touch. Here they spent a comfortable night under the aegis of the temple priests, well-fed and appropriately bedded courtesy of the Chief Priest of the Republic’s regalia and the almost limitless powers attached to it. Though the contubernium took turns to keep watch – just in case.