Caesar's Spies- The Complete Campaigns

by Peter Tonkin

  *

  As soon as he reached the Via Egnatia, however, Artemidorus found the opposite of all that activity to be true. Whereas there was a great deal of communication, civil, commercial and military running north and south between the city and the port, there was none whatsoever running eastward and westward between Philippi and Amphipolis; between the Libertores’ stronghold as they waited for Brutus and Cassius and the Triumvirs’ redoubt as they waited for Antony and Octavian.

  Just like the southern arm of the Via, the western arm stepped over several rivers, solid bridges of varying length striding across valleys of various size, steepness and depth. The dry summer seemed to have reduced the flow in most of the streams, but they still ran and – as he knew from experience – the swamp was still dangerously sodden. Artemidorus stopped at the first of these and looked around. There was no-one to be seen and nothing of interest other than the slope of the hill-spur reaching up to the Temple of Dionysus on his right and the increasingly distant swamp waiting to welcome the diminished trickle of the river on his left.

  After a moment more, he guided his horse down the gentle slope to the stony river-bed, dismounted to let his mount drink, and used the isolation to change back into his disguise. When he was satisfied, he re-mounted, rode back up onto the Via, looked carefully back towards Philippi and when he was sure he was not being followed yet he crossed the bridge and trotted westwards. Within the hour he was pleased he had changed. The largest bridge on the western arm reached out over the River Gangites which, like all the others, drained through the massive swamp and down into the lake. The edge of the swamp was almost a military mile south of the Via by the time he reached the river, and the roadway ran, arrow straight, out across the burned-brown dryness of the grassland which had become the dominant aspect of the country on either side of this, the last bridge between here and Amphipolis. Inevitably given the situation, the bridge was heavily guarded.

  Unlike the gate into Philippi, the Gangites bridge was being treated as though it was some kind of frontier. On the desiccated grass of the nearest bank there were enough tents to house a couple of centuriae, and, when Artemidorus reined to a stop at the eastern end of the bridge he found himself confronted not by an Optio but by a grim-faced centurion in full uniform, badges of rank, legionary identification and honour all in place. A contubernium squad of eight legionaries stood at attention immediately behind him, all fully armed, pilae spears at the ready. Clearly they had taken the time at their disposal since he was first spotted in the distance to get themselves ready to welcome him. And, equally clearly, the only way across this bridge was by negotiation, which must involve presentation of some pretty powerful authorities and paperwork. He looked around. On either hand, distant clouds of dust showed that elements of the military centuries were patrolling the riverbank as well, up as far as the Hill of Dionysus and down as far as the marsh. Legate Casca, under General Brutus clearly wanted nobody to pass the Gangites. But a glance back along the Via also revealed in the distance what looked like a considerable squad of mounted soldiers, helmets and armour gleaming in the sunlight as they came galloping in pursuit.

  Artemidorus dismounted. ‘Salve, centurion,’ he said easily, betraying none of the tension he felt.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ asked the centurion by way of answer.

  ‘Out there,’ Artemidorus nodded to the great sloping plain beyond the bridge. ‘I have my commission here. I see you’re with Legate Casca’s XXVIIth. You’re a long way from Neapolis.’ He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out Pollio’s paperwork. He grinned self-deprecatingly as he handed it over. ‘But then, so am I – on both counts. But, as you can see, the legate and the general want me to push on out a little further still.’

  ‘Speculatore, eh? On a confidential mission. I didn’t know we had any of your sort in the legion.’ The centurion looked up from the scroll, frowning.

  ‘That’s more or less the point, isn’t it? What’s the good of having a unit of spies if everyone knows about them?’

  ‘And the uniform? Why?’

  ‘Word is that Antony and young Caesar have alae of Gaulish cavalry as well as Legio X Equestris in their command. More came over with Saxa and Norbanus – identified by Legate Tillius Cimber’s men when they sailed round behind Saxa and tricked him into retreating from the Corpili Pass. I shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows if I bump into any of their patrols around Amphipolis, but my main mission is to find out what’s happening further west than that.’

  ‘Whether the enemy have got across from Italy, you mean,’ nodded the centurion handing the scroll back. His tone moderated. ‘That’s pretty risky. You’ll be lucky if they only crucify you if they catch you.’

  ‘If that is what I’m going to do,’ said Artemidorus, ‘it’s what I was trained to do. And they haven’t caught me yet.’

  The centurion nodded again and waved the spy through. Artemidorus walked his horse past the contubernium of guards, then mounted, trotted over the bridge and cantered down onto the broad Via. He had gone a little more than a mile when distant shouting made him turn and look back. He didn’t need to see precisely what was going on to have a pretty good idea what the commotion was all about. The vengeful Praefectus Alae Vedius Pollio. his Batavian cavalrymen and the mounted legionaries he had borrowed from the barracks were trying to pursue him across the Gangites bridge past that immoveable centurion and his well-armed guards. But their enraged commander no longer had the paperwork required – because that was safely in Artemidorus’ saddlebag.

  VI - East of Amphipolis

  i

  General Gaius Norbanus Flaccus was a great bear of a man, deep-chested and broad-shouldered; arms as large as his companion’s legs and legs like tree trunks. His companion, General Lucius Decidius Saxa was altogether slighter, red-headed, pointy-faced, quick and intelligent – the fox to Norbanus’ bear. Both men were used to action; neither of them liked waiting any more than their battle-ready legions did. The two generals were in the room they used for briefing and planning in the largest house in Amphipolis, which they had requisitioned immediately upon their arrival. The villa was spacious enough to house their personal retinues, slaves and all, as well as several of their senior staff and it was furnished with a private bath-house. The eight legions that accompanied them were camped between the city and the coast, which was three miles south, at the estuary of the river Strymon that ran close by the city giving an inexhaustible supply of fresh water. The troops were protected not only by the city walls but also by the great earthworks the generals had ordered to be thrown up immediately after their arrival in case Brutus and Cassius got here before Antony and young Caesar did. In the meantime they had no option but to wait and see who arrived first.

  The generals were no fools, and no grasping ravishers like Brutus and Cassius – they paid rent for the house they occupied and ensured that the soldiers treated the citizens with courtesy and respect at all times. Those soldiers who failed to reach the high standards were mostly hanging from crosses in the space between the city’s southern suburbs and the northern edge of the camp – sending an unmistakable message and keeping the local birds well fed. The city’s dwindling supply of grain and meat was duly purchased little by little by legionary quartermasters from their dwindling supplies of gold. Scavengers riding out into the hinterland were equally even-handed with local farmers. But it was the end of a long, dry summer and everything was in short supply – except dust. Moreover, the Casca brothers and Tillius Cimber sent out the occasional patrol beyond the Gangites just to keep everyone on their toes and some of the scavengers – particularly the successful ones – never made it back. But all this care and courtesy was beginning to lose its effect. The city fathers were becoming increasingly worried about what Brutus and Cassius would do to them and their city if Antony and young Caesar failed to arrive and offer protection, or – worse - if they arrived and then were defeated. The fate of Xanthus sat in the city air like a plague-lade
n miasma.

  The generals had similar concerns but they were merely part of a much longer list of worries and frustrations. Which is what they were discussing, goblets in hand, as they pored over a map of Thrace and Macedonia with the waters closest to their coasts.

  ‘Supplies,’ said Norbanus. ‘Eight legions and all their hangers-on can’t sit here indefinitely without supplies. It’s all very well sneaking up and down the coast like Cilician pirates picking up what we can here and there, but we really need to get out across Mare Nostrum to Egypt, Syria or Judaea to load up with good regular supplies of grain.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen while the Libertores have control by water,’ shrugged Saxa. ‘Look at what we have to contend with! Murcus and Ahenobarbus with a huge fleet each, blockading the east coast of Italia from Brundisisum round as far as Greece while young Caesar and his fleet try to control Sextus Pompey in the west round Sicilia. In the meantime, Cassius has the so far unbeaten Rhodian fleet using Rhodes as a base, not to mention another fleet commanded by Tillius Cimber. We’re not going to get any supplies from across the water until Antony and Caesar find a way of defeating them by land – which will automatically solve our problems by sea.’

  *

  ‘But they’re not going to be able to do that until they get over into Macedonia, past Admiral Murcus’ blockade,’ said Norbanus.

  ‘Unless the Libertores are thinking of taking the war into Italy by crossing out of Macedonia! All the sea-lanes are protected by their fleets after all.’

  ‘It would make things easier if we had some idea of where they are and what they’re planning,’ mused Norbanus.

  ‘So we’re back to that yet again,’ sighed Saxa. ‘We’ve tried! No-one gets past the Gangites, you know that; not from the west heading east. The other way round is sometimes a different matter. But even so...’ His expression became one of bitter self-recrimination. ‘I might have been able to assess things more clearly if I’d actually come face to face with them at the Corpili Pass instead of falling for their trick of sending Tillius Cimber, his fleet and a legion round to my rear and convincing me I was about to be cut off!’

  ‘The fates have been against us, old friend,’ soothed Norbanus understandingly. ‘Otherwise, how could we have been outflanked at the Sapei Pass like Leonidas and his 300 Spartans at Thermopylae?’ The comparison with the legendary Spartan general went some way to mollifying the angry little man. Norbanus continued, thoughtfully, ‘Why, even Antony’s plan to send an embassy to Alexandria and get Queen Cleopatra to supply an Egyptian navy to support us seems to have come to nothing!’

  ‘Perhaps something may yet come of that,’ mused Saxa. ‘The ambassador might only have been a centurion, but he impressed me. He’s done this kind of thing before and he knows Cleopatra.’

  ‘Not that he was just any old centurion,’ said Norbanus. ‘He was primus pilum of the VIIth before he got seconded to Antony’s staff. He was with Divus Juilius in Gaul and when he invaded Britannia. And of course he did good work after the murder when it looked as though the City was going to tear itself apart with the Libertores up in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus while Antony and Lepidus had the VIIth patrolling the streets down below trying to keep a lid on things.’

  ‘I heard,’ said Saxa, ‘that he was already working undercover for Antony before then, spying on Brutus and trying to warn Divus Julius of his plans. He actually handed Caesar a list of the men getting ready to murder him as he went into the senate meeting where it happened. Caesar never read the note – and died because of it.’

  ‘An impressive officer altogether. Both on the battle-field and under cover. What was his code name again?’

  ‘Septem. Antony called him Septem because he had served with the VIIth.’

  ‘Septem. That was it.’

  The two generals were still discussing their increasingly desperate situation and what they ought to do about it when there was a rap on the door and another seconded centurion entered. This was Lucius Flavius Felix of the Martia legion – the Martia, named by Divus Julius himself, was so famous for its military bravery that its legionary number was lost behind the name. Only the best of the best were allowed into its ranks – and only the best of them were promoted or appointed to command.

  ‘Yes, Felix?’ said Norbanus. ‘What is it?’

  ‘The guards have just brought a stranger into the city, General. They’re holding him until one of us goes to see him – or we order him brought up here.’

  ‘Why? What’s so special about him?’

  ‘He says he is Centurion Atremidorus of the VIIth, seconded to Antony’s staff, General. He says we know him by his code-name as Septem.’

  ii

  ‘By all the gods,’ said Norbanus, ‘the Fates must have had a hand in this! We were discussing Septem just a moment ago! Can it be him? I believed he was in Alexandria.’

  Centurion Lucius Flavius Felix shook his head. ‘I have not seen him yet so I cannot say, General. But if it is Septem I shall know him at once. We have worked together on more than one occasion in the past.’

  ‘Very well. Go to the guard house and, if he really is Septem then bring him here at once.’

  Felix turned to go, but Saxa added, ‘On the way out, tell the guards I want the senior commanders summoned. If it is Septem then we can learn a lot from him and perhaps task him with finding out yet more.’

  Felix exited the generals’ villa with the legionary who had brought the news from the guard room. The pair of them marched swiftly across the agora which the generals’ villa overlooked, then they turned right along the municipal section of the Via Egnatia which came and went through Amphipolis like an arrow through the breast of an enemy. One section of the Via’s shaft led out through the city gates and past the generals’ earth works onto the great dry plain which it crossed between here and Philippi. The other section of the shaft exited the lower section of the city and led south and west out over the river, past the ancient carving called the Lion of Amphipolis towards Thessaloniki. That was the exit Felix and his cavalry alae used when scouting through Macedonia and Greece as far as Pella, hoping in vain to make contact with Antony and his army as they marched eastward to face the Libertores in the one final battle that would establish the course of the Republic’s future. As frustrated by their non-arrival as the Generals were by the absence of Antony and young Caesar – and the failure of Cleopatra to clear the sea lanes of the Libertores’ fleets.

  But, thought Felix, if the man in the guard house really was Septem, then things would likely change quite soon – hopefully for the better.

  The guard house stood immediately inside the main gate. It was, inevitably, the haunt of the optio custodiarum and his teams of gate-guards even in peace time. Nowadays, it was packed with soldiers who were responsible for patrolling the walls as well – the whole country being on a war-footing and nobody really certain where the Libertore armies were – or when they would strike. For if they arrived before Antony, tactical logic suggested strongly that they would wish to crush his advance guard as swiftly and completely as possible. And Felix was all too well aware that Generals Saxa and Norbanus were like Prometheus chained on his rock having his guts torn every day knowing that they had been fooled once and outflanked once and that there was no way they could be warned of the approach of the Libertores’ seventeen legions in time to mount a proper defence against them with the eight legions at their command.

  *

  Felix’ heart sank as soon as the optio showed him to the cell. The prisoner standing with his back to the barred door was nothing more than a common cavalryman by the look of things. The prisoner’s focus was on the tiny window which was why his back was presented to the optio and the centurion. Felix glanced down at the table where the prisoner’s helmet, armour and weapons lay beside a pair of bulging saddle-bags. Standard issue headgear, scale mail shirt. A baldric with the sheath containing a cavalry spatha long sword. A battle axe, a gladius and a pugio dagger. Idl
y, Felix picked the dagger up, unsheathed it and tested the edge of the blade with his thumb. It stung like a wild rose thorn. Blood flowed at once and the optio’s face showed his surprise that anything could be that sharp. Felix’ spirits rose. He sucked the blood of the digit. ‘Septem,’ he said. ‘It is you!’

  Artemidorus turned, saw the state of Felix’ thumb and chuckled. ‘My dagger at least,’ he said easily. ‘Salve Felix. Can you take me to see the Generals?’

  ‘They sent me down to fetch you – as soon as we had established that it really was you! We thought you were in Alexandria with Quintus, Ferrata and the rest of your contubernium. How in the names of all the gods have you managed to turn up here? Alone? And disguised as a Batavian cavalryman?’

  ‘As an equestrian praefectus alae, in command of Batavian troops actually. It’s a long story,’ said Artemidorus as the optio let him out of the cell.

  ‘You’ll have to give me all the details, old friend,’ said Felix as Artemidorus began to collect his things together, swinging his belt round his waist and settling the pugio, spatha, gladius and axe in place. At a nod from Felix one of the guards picked up the helmet, scale mail and saddlebags then followed them out into the bright sunshine.

  ‘Later. Over a glass or two – if there’s any wine left in Amphipolis,’ said Artemidorus looking around. ‘Which, by the look of things I doubt. But in the mean-time I assume you’ll be in on any briefing I give Saxa and Norbanus. There’s little point on having you seconded from the Martia Legion to their command if they’re not going to make full use of your abilities and insights.’’