Caesar Triumphant

  By the time Caesar arrived, Pullus and the other Primi Pili had managed to get most of the men inside the walls of the town and had them formed up, their backs to the wall, in a long single line of Centuries, curving around the contour of the wall and out of sight. A quick check had confirmed that all the streets ringing the wall, or perpendicular to it, were empty. Everyone, it seemed, was gathered in one place. Even Caesar, normally so unruffled, was taken aback, and ,unbidden, the same thought he had just a short time before came back. Can we beat these people? Like Pullus, he chided himself for precisely the same reason. Here they were, all lined up, waiting for whatever their fate may be, but this was so unlike anything he had experienced, it gave him a deep sense of unease. It was one thing to kill running men and women as part of the bloodlust following a battle or siege, or to execute one or more kneeling men who had been captured after a fight. But this, to walk up and down the rows, systematically beheading each person, turned even his stomach. Of course, there was no guarantee that these Wa would sit passively and silently accept their fate, but some instinct, deep inside, told him they would. This, more than anything else, was what troubled him. Like most Romans, he had always accepted as fact that his people were the most disciplined and obedient to higher authority in the world, and none of his conquests had shown him any differently. But he knew that no Roman would be so stoic, so resigned to his fate without considerable weeping and gnashing of teeth, at least. Not these people.

  "Well, Caesar? What are your orders?" Pullus asked his general.

  Caesar turned troubled eyes to Pullus and said, "I don't know."

  As it turned out, only the town elders, the group that had been kneeling in front of the rest of the townspeople were executed, before the men of Caesar's army were sufficiently unsettled by the sight of a few thousand supine victims, passively awaiting their fate. As much as they wanted vengeance, exacting it in this manner was extremely disturbing, when the only sounds were a chorus of muffled sobs, punctuated by the sodden thud of a blade meeting a neck. On a couple of occasions, there was a choked scream from one of the townspeople as an elder was decapitated, there presumably being some connection between the victim and the afflicted person. Once the dozen elders were executed, their heads and bodies separated from each other, save for a pool of blood connecting the two, the men who originally eagerly volunteered for the duty looked at Caesar expectantly, and it didn't take an experienced leader to see they were silently pleading for it to stop. Glancing at the assembled Primi Pili, along with the higher-ranking officers of the army, Caesar could plainly read by their faces and body language that they were ready for this business to end as well.

  Raising his hand in a command to stop, Caesar said hoarsely, "I believe we've made our point. The rest of these people will be taken as slaves. Zhang's man will see to the details."

  Not finished, Caesar turned to address the ranks of the men drawn up against the wall of the town, who were standing mutely watching all that had taken place.

  "But as a reward for your valor, I give you the proceeds from the sale of these prisoners, the first of many Wa to fall under the yoke of Rome!"

  If he said anything else, it was drowned out by the roaring approval of the men in the ranks, and once his words were translated for those who still didn't understand Latin, the din only increased in volume. Realizing the futility of anything further, Caesar gave a half-smile, half-grimace in surrender as he waved his subordinates to come closer so that they could hear his orders.

  "As soon as the prisoners are out of the way, turn the men loose on the town to do with it as they will. Looting and burning should appease them, since they've lost their taste for blood vengeance."

  Pullus and the other Centurions exchanged somewhat alarmed glances, thinking there was a rebuke there about their troops' unwillingness to shed blood.

  Caesar caught the looks, raising a hand in a dismissive wave as he said, "Oh no, I don't blame them. In fact, I was worried that they would want to go through with it. But I'm glad to see that we're of a like mind; it appears that none of us finds much pleasure in beheading people who don't seem to care."

  Prompted by his general’s bringing it up, Pullus blurted out, "Why do you suppose they behaved that way, Caesar? I've never seen anything like that before. And," his brow furrowed, as he frowned, which Caesar knew was Pullus' sign that he was worried, "what does it mean? I mean, for the rest of the campaign?"

  "I wish I knew," Caesar replied honestly, "because I've never seen this before, either. Put that together with the way those Wa on the beach seemed content to be slaughtered, we can deduce that at the very least, they don't fear death in any way. Which," he added, superfluously, as far as the Centurions were concerned, "makes them very dangerous, indeed. Perhaps not tactically; they don't seem to be generaled very well, if at all. But if they have enough numbers, and are willing to throw them away in such a profligate manner, tactics may not matter."

  With that worrying admonition in their ears, Caesar briskly turned back to other topics.

  "This town isn't big enough for the whole army to fall upon, which is one reason I'm giving the slaves to the army. That should help quell any discontent for what I'm about to order now." This time he ignored the looks of concern of his assembled officers, as he continued, "I want two Cohorts from each Legion to be given a section of town to loot. The rest will work on cleaning this place up. We can't have all these bodies stinking up the place and bringing disease. I don't know how long we'll be here, but you know I like a tidy battlefield."

  Indeed his Centurions did; it was one of Caesar's peculiarities that kept the men and the Centurions, as well, talking around the fires, speculating on where it came from. To most of them, a tidy battlefield was a misnomer, but after the countless battles, it was something they accepted as the cost of marching with the greatest general of all time.

  It turned out that the sacking of this town didn't provide the bounty of loot for which the men had hoped. Despite the look of overall tidiness and prosperity, what the men discovered as they entered the individual houses—ridiculously easily, because they appeared to be made of nothing more than flimsy wooden frames over which some sort of thin tissue was stretched—was that these people didn't seem to have many possessions. Oh, there was some silk to be found in some of the homes, and there was a fair bit of jade, but after marching through the lands of the Han, the men had become inured to the value of this semi-precious stone. If they ever made it back home, they had a fortune, but most of them had resigned themselves to the idea that they would never set foot on Italian or Spanish soil again. For Pullus, as for so many of the men, the army had been his real home for so many years that he could barely remember what his farm outside of Astigi, in the province of Hispania even looked like. Watching his men tear through these houses—in most cases literally, as soon as the men discovered that the wooden frames were made in such a way that they could be lifted out with relative ease—Pullus was lost in thought, worrying about what he had brought up to Caesar. He didn't know why, but the sight of the Wa kneeling there disturbed him more than the sight of their warriors waiting to be slaughtered on the beach.

  "I don't think these savages lock anything away," Pullus was torn from his reflection by the sound of Balbus' voice, and with a start he turned to see his second-in-command standing next to him, the side of his face that was horribly scarred and missing an ear the sight that greeted Pullus.

  However, he had long since become accustomed to the gruesome visage of his Pilus Posterior, and, in fact, rarely noticed him in this way.

  "Doesn't look like it," Pullus agreed.

  Both men stood for a moment as some of the men began whooping with delight from inside one of the houses. A moment later, a Legionary emerged from a nearby home, not bothering with the door, but instead kicking one of the flimsy walls down. Staggering a bit under his burden, the two Centurions quickly understood why he was so happy: they saw a pair of feet kicking, as what turned out to b
e a young girl struggled in a futile attempt to free herself, all the while screeching at the top of her lungs in her language.

  "Pluto's cock, we don't need this," Balbus groaned. "It's one of the Pandya. What's his name? Shrinam?"

  Pullus thought for a moment, then said, "Shrinar. His name's Shrinar. He's in the third section of your Century, isn't he?"

  "I know who he belongs to," Balbus snapped, irritated as much at the tone of his Primus Pilus as he was by the sight of one of his men carrying off what was, in effect, contraband.

  Over the years, Caesar's army had developed a set of simple rules that his men learned, sometimes in a very harsh manner, had to be obeyed without question. One of those concerned the treatment of women. After learning from bitter experience early on in the campaign, when there had been a near-riot after the sacking of a Parthian town and where Caesar's orders were somewhat vague, the general gave very explicit instructions that whenever the occupants of a town were destined for slavery, it included every single person, whether they were part of the original group of captives or not. If they lived in that town and everyone else was being sold into slavery, they were off-limits from being used by the men for their enjoyment. Of all of Caesar's orders, it was one of the most unpopular, because of cases like this, which were inevitable. Terrified parents would try to hide their children—almost always daughters, and almost always the most beautiful daughter in the family—creating the situation that was facing the two Centurions now.

  "Shrinar," Balbus bellowed, and for a moment it looked like the dark-skinned, lithe Legionary was going to pretend he didn't hear and keep walking. "By the gods, I'll skin your black ass and use it for a mourning tunic if you don't get over here!"

  With visible reluctance, the Legionary turned and trudged over to the two Centurions. Meanwhile, the girl's struggles continued unabated, and when she gave a sudden twist of her body, she managed to escape from Shrinar's grasp, thudding heavily onto the ground. Quickly trying to scramble to her feet, she was too slow for Shrinar, who had too much experience in such matters to be easily thwarted. Because she struggled, her hair—long, black, and very straight—covered her features, and her head whipped about as she tried to pull her arm out of Shrinar's grasp. Finally, in exasperation, Shrinar gave her a cuff on the head, stunning her enough to stop her struggling, but she managed to remain on her feet. Half-carrying, half-dragging the girl with him, Shrinar finally reached Pullus and Balbus, sullenly coming to intente, or at least as much as possible, while still holding onto the girl.

  "What by Pluto's cock do you think......" Balbus got no further, letting out an audible gasp, which was only drowned out by the same sound from his Primus Pilus.

  Before he could finish, the girl's head had come up, and with her free hand she pulled the hair blocking her face out of the way. She was, Pullus was sure, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Balbus was no less sure of the same thing, as both men stared at the girl, who, seeing their eyes on her, quickly looked down at the ground. Her skin was the color of honey, and while she had the almond-shaped eyes of all of the people in this part of the world, they were slightly larger. Most interesting was her nose, not the normal stub with no bridge between the eyes so common among the people of the East,, but pronounced enough that, while not Roman, it made her distinguishably different from anyone else. Gazing at her oval face, high, pronounced cheekbones and a full set of lips that both men immediately longed to caress with their own, both of them understood Shrinar's reluctance. In fact, unbeknownst to each other, both Balbus and Pullus experienced a flash of sympathy for the Legionary, while at the same time being aware of a strong desire to make this girl their own. And at the same time, they both knew that this was impossible.

  "You know the rules, Shrinar," Balbus finally spoke. "You can't keep her."

  Shrinar said nothing, deciding that his best and only hope was to pretend he didn't understand, but Balbus wasn't fooled in the slightest.

  "I know you understand me, you cunnus," the Pilus Prior growled. "Remember I come around the fires at night and I hear you and Galba chattering like magpies in our tongue. So," he thrust his free hand out toward the Legionary, while in the other hand his vitus hovered menacingly, "hand her over."

  Shrinar's shoulders slumped, not bothering to hide his bitterness, and while neither Centurion would normally be disposed to let such insolence pass, they were, at the very least, sympathetic to his loss. Taking the girl by each arm, Pullus and Balbus carried her, her struggles now having subsided into a whimpering fear, as her feet barely touched the ground. Neither man spoke, but both were incredibly aware of the girl's scent and the feel of her lithe body bumping against them. They headed for the line of Wa townspeople who, with bowed heads, were being shackled together. Standing nearby, Caesar and his staff were discussing whatever it was that officers discussed at times like this, but at the approach of two of his Centurions, Caesar called out to them.

  "Eho Pullus, Balbus! What do you have there?"

  "Just someone trying to hide, Caesar," Pullus replied, counting the moments before his general stopped them. He didn't get past ten.

  "Hold there! Bring the girl over here," Caesar ordered.

  Both men shot sidelong glances at each other, but, of course they obeyed, stopping in front of their general. Caesar gave neither of them as much as a glance, taking a gentle hand and lifting the chin of the girl to see her face. Just as his Centurions had shortly before, he let out a gasp at the sight before him.

  "By the gods," he managed at last. "I think she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

  "Normally, I don't like your taste in women, Caesar," Hirtius, standing behind his general said genially, thinking of Cleopatra, "but in this case I have to agree with you."

  The girl, for reasons only she could know, hadn't shrunk from Caesar's touch, and, in fact, looked up at him shyly, through lowered lashes, studying him as much as he was studying her. She was an ignorant girl from a town whose name nobody knew, but she instinctively understood that this was a powerful man, despite his hideously pale skin and eyes that looked like the water of the bay on which she lived. She also understood that the next few heartbeats were the most important of her life, that wherever her family and friends were being taken, it wasn't going to be a place where there would be any joy or happiness. So, despite her fear, she favored Caesar with a shy smile, not showing any teeth, of course, but a smile, nonetheless. Thinking the moment over, the two Centurions started to take her away, and her eyes widened in fear, fixed on Caesar.

  "Wait," he said softly, but it was no less a command than anything he might bellow in battle, so both Centurions halted immediately. For another moment nobody spoke or moved. Then, seeming to come to a decision, Caesar said, "Take her to my tent. She'll be staying here, with me."

  The town, because of the construction of its houses, didn't take nearly as long to loot as a town its size normally would in other parts of the world, it being relatively easy to rip them apart for hiding places. By the time the men were through, the town was a shambles of shattered wooden screens and piles of what passed for furniture lying scattered about. It took even less time to burn, the thin tissue serving as the walls of the structures catching instantly. In fact, it turned so quickly into a conflagration that two men were trapped within the town, barred from escape by blazing houses and the piled debris, burning to death. These were the only two casualties of the landing, and Caesar ordered the sacrifice of a bull in thanksgiving to the gods for such good fortune. But neither he, nor any of the officers, believed it would last. Sooner or later, they knew, they would meet a real army, led by a real general. Then matters would be different.

  Chapter 6

  The ruins of the town smoldered for two days, days in which Caesar kept his scouts very busy while the men recovered from their exertions, such as they were, in taking the town. Their biggest problem came from their massive headaches from the stores of rice wine they had found, as they also discovered t
hat it was much more potent than what they were accustomed to in the land of the Han. As the men lounged about outside their tents, playing the inevitable games of dice, along with some games that were imported by the polyglot of nations comprising the Legions, Caesar's mounted scouts were ranging far and wide, scouting the terrain and looking for signs of a concentration of the enemy. It wasn't until the third day that the first of them returned, and while they didn't report any sightings of an enemy force, the news wasn't good, as far as the terrain facing the army was concerned. Neither was there good news about the possibility of food being available, because the land was too mountainous for the growing of rice, at least in any quantity sufficient to feed an army. There were small, terraced farms, but they were designed to feed very small villages of fewer than a hundred villagers, and there were precious few of those. This forced Caesar to make a decision.

  "After receiving the reports from the patrols I've sent out, it's clear that we won't find enough rice to feed the men. In addition, the terrain to the east is very mountainous. We'd do well to make 20 miles a day, if that."

  Caesar was addressing an assembly of the officers of the army, including the Primi Pili, who had gathered in the praetorium to hear what their general had to say.

  "But I'm neither blind nor deaf to the complaints of the men about getting back aboard the ships to travel," he continued. He paused, letting his officers digest what he said before he pressed forward. "However, I'm not willing to sacrifice the speed that we would gain by moving by sea, so we're going to be boarding the ships to continue moving eastward. According to Zhang, the farther east we go, the more populated we'll find the island. He also says that what passes for their capital is still several days’ sailing away, and the closer we get, the more likely we'll be to meet resistance from a much larger army than the one we've faced to date. Once we defeat that army, the island will essentially be ours."