Caesar Triumphant

by Peake, R. W.

  "Don't," Pullus spoke up, startling everyone in the room, and only just remembered to add, "sir."

  Nero looked at Pullus in obvious surprise, which for once Pullus was willing to concede was understandable and not just due to what he saw as Nero's thickness.

  "I'm sure that order that Kiyama gave was meant just for Zhang, not for you," Pullus had begun to speak in Latin, but managed to switch to Greek, remembering the surprise that Zhang had pulled when he finally revealed he understood Latin.

  Nero's face was a study in confusion; not just because of what Pullus had said, but that a man Nero considered to be just a shade above the barbarians infesting these islands was speaking Greek. Consequently, Pullus had to repeat himself before Nero—who at least had the presence of mind to reply in Greek—indicated that he understood, and remained standing. Only then did Kiyama turn around and head for the door just behind the throne that Pullus knew was there, although an ornately carved wooden screen shielded the doorway from view. From where Pullus was lying on his couch, he was at an oblique enough angle to see Caesar enter, bedecked in what Pullus thought of as his god costume, moving quietly around the screen and up onto the dais, settling into the throne. Since Nero hadn't been required to kneel or otherwise avert his gaze, he let out a gasp at the sight of his general, causing Zhang to raise his head surreptitiously, just enough to see what had caused Nero's outburst, meaning his own exclamation followed immediately.

  "Silete!” Caesar thundered the word in Latin, stilling whatever else Zhang was planning to say.

  Without waiting, Caesar continued, "We will conduct this interview in Latin, since I know that not only do you speak our language, but also that you've had even more time to perfect your fluency while you were with the fleet."

  Caesar paused just long enough for Zhang to understand that a response was expected, and he complied with a terse, "I understand, Caesar."

  "That is the last time you will address me by name," Caesar's tone was the only indication that he was being almost genial, since his painted face gave no hint as to the emotions lying beneath. "Much has happened since we were last together," he went on, which Pullus thought was one of the most understated pronouncements Caesar had ever uttered. "And the most important change, at least as far as you are concerned, is that the Wa have recognized my divinity."

  Speaking in a tone that could have been used when discussing the amount of rice left in stores, Caesar made no less of an impression on Zhang who, forgetting himself for a moment, raised himself up to stare at Caesar in open astonishment.

  "I did not give you leave to cease your obeisance," Caesar's tone instantly turned as icy as the winds that came howling across the great steppes of the mainland.

  To Zhang's credit, he immediately dropped back down, but again Pullus could see the fury that seemed to emanate from the Han, even if he was in a position of submission.

  "As I was saying, now that I am considered a god by the Wa, I have decided that the islands that are the traditional home of the Wa will be my kingdom, subject to my rule and my rule alone."

  There it was, Pullus thought, out in the open for everyone to hear and understand, because he knew that there was no way Nero would keep this to himself, and the Primus Pilus suspected that this had been no accident. Of all Caesar's generals, Nero's reputation as an inveterate gossip was widely acknowledged, and Pullus knew that everything Caesar had said would be flashing through the camps of the Roman army, now spread all around the capital. The silence hung in the air for several moments before Zhang finally spoke, his voice carefully modulated.

  "That is...interesting," he paused for a moment. "Forgive me, but I do not know how to address you now."

  "When we're speaking Latin, you will call me Divus Julius," Caesar replied promptly, telling Pullus that this wasn't something spontaneous, that Caesar had obviously planned it.

  Up to now, Caesar had made no such demands on his men, of any rank, but Pullus had a nagging thought that perhaps this would change.

  "Yes...Divus Julius," Zhang continued, "but I will say that my master will be most disappointed to hear that you have such...ambitions."

  "An ambition is something to which a man aspires," Caesar pointed out, "but as I have already achieved this, it is hardly an ambition. It is a fact."

  "True," Zhang granted, and Pullus realized that he had never seen the Han so off-balance or hesitant.

  Which, he knew, was precisely what Caesar had intended.

  "But we have a saying among the Han about a man's reach not exceeding his grasp. I cannot help wondering if perhaps you have overreached?"

  "And who is there to tell me that I have done so?" Caesar asked, and while his voice was pleasant, both Pullus and Nero knew their general well enough to recognize the very dangerous undertone.

  "I would remind Cae...Divus Julius that he is here only because of the assistance of the Han," Zhang replied calmly, oblivious to the gasps of the other two Romans in the room. "And that he and his army are indebted to my emperor for that assistance. If he were to require repayment of all that he has given you, it would be only just and fair. But when all the food, livestock, iron ingots, and cloth are added up, they make up such a vast sum that it would be impossible for you to pay, would it not?"

  "And why would I need to do that?" Caesar demanded coldly. "As I recall, your emperor was very anxious to provide all that he did as a gift. To prevent us from taking it."

  Zhang's face grew even darker, but his tone remained calm.

  "Be that as it may, I have always thought that Divus Julius was, of all the great men of the world, the greatest because of his honor. It would seem to me that a repayment of a debt would be a matter of honor."

  "If I were you, I would be very careful when talking about matters such as honor," Caesar said this more softly than anything he had uttered to that point, which only served to add to the menace.

  "Forgive me, Divus Julius," for the first time Zhang's voice betrayed a hint of strain. "But I would be remiss in my duty to my emperor if I were not to fight for his interests, would I not?"

  "That you would be," Caesar agreed. "However, I fail to see what my activities here on the islands of the Wa have to do with your emperor. You have never indicated that he held any interest in the affairs of this island. In fact," Caesar reminded Zhang, "when I asked you specifically about this very thing, you assured me that your emperor would be most pleased if we pacified this land and secured its warlike people. Well, I have done that very thing. Now you are singing a different song. Can you explain why?"

  Pullus tried to fight the grin creeping up his face, but couldn't manage it. Keeping his gaze on Zhang, he saw the Han emissary close his eyes briefly in what Pullus took to be Zhang's recognition that he had been outfoxed by Caesar and forced to declare openly the intentions of his emperor in regards to the island kingdom. Simply put, Zhang was outflanked and outmaneuvered, prompting Pullus' scornful thought, what were you thinking, barbarian? That you could outgeneral the greatest general in the history of the world? Haven't you seen enough?

  "Only that my emperor sent me newer instructions, since we last talked about this subject. He believes that a just compensation for all the assistance he has given you would be to turn possession of the islands over to us. Of course, you would be allowed tenancy, without taxation, for as long as you choose to stay."

  "Well, that is very generous of your emperor," Caesar replied dryly. "But I am curious: when exactly did these new instructions arrive?"

  "After you separated from the fleet and began your march to the capital," Zhang said.

  Caesar looked over at Nero, still standing slightly behind and to the side of Zhang's kneeling body. The commander of his fleet said nothing, but gave a slight shake of the head, telling Caesar that no strange vessels had been sighted, that Zhang had had no contact with anyone who could have passed such a message.

  Caesar toyed with the idea of exposing this as a lie, but decided against it, saying only, "Be tha
t as it may, you can reply to your emperor that while I have every intention of repaying his generosity, it will not be with any lands that now belong to me, by right of not only conquest, but also divinity."

  "Ah," Zhang chose to change the topic slightly, "about your divinity. May I ask how that came about?"

  "Oh, I am sure you will hear all about it before the sun sets. But even deities have business to attend to, and I am afraid I must cut this audience short. I will see that you are quartered comfortably, but given the...history of the relations between your people and what are now my people, I am afraid that your safety might be in jeopardy from some of my overzealous citizens. So I will make sure that your quarters are guarded against any intruders, and that you have an escort of my men wherever you go."

  "That is very kind of you," Zhang actually seemed a bit more at ease, now that he and Caesar had slipped into the duplicitous language of the courtier, "but I assure you that I can take care of myself. I would hate to place an imposition on your men for such a trivial task, when they deserve a rest after their own exertions."

  "It is no imposition, and I have only your best interests at heart, "Caesar assured Zhang, lying through his teeth every bit as much as the Han. "And I would not rest easy, knowing that you might be in danger."

  Recognizing that this wasn't going to be negotiable, Zhang nodded his acceptance of Caesar’s edict.

  In one last attempt, he asked, "Will I at least be allowed to tour the capital? There are a number of sights that are quite famous to us that I would love to explore."

  I bet you would, Pullus thought, but he had no reason to worry.

  "Alas," Caesar said as regretfully as he could, without making it obvious he was again lying, "but the capital still hasn't been completely pacified. At least to my satisfaction. So, I'm afraid I must insist that you remain in your quarters, or go no farther than the boundaries of the imperial park. Which is very lovely."

  Grimly nodding his head in understanding, Zhang waited to be given leave to rise, which Caesar granted.

  Nodding his head in the direction of the door through which they entered, Caesar told Zhang, "One of my men is waiting to escort you to your quarters. I assume your baggage is following with the rest of the men from the ships?"

  Zhang nodded, then walked slowly to the door, where a burly Legionary stood framed in the doorway, waiting. Nero, clearly unsure what to do, started to turn about to follow but was stopped by Caesar.

  "You and I have some things still to discuss, General."

  That, Pullus thought, is an understatement. Seeing through the now-open doorway that his litter bearers had arrived, Pullus rose and looked questioningly to Caesar, who nodded his dismissal as he stood up from the throne, then stepped down from the dais, hand outstretched to Nero. Only Pullus caught the fact that Zhang had glanced back over his shoulder and had seen this exchange, his mouth twisting into an angry grimace.

  Much to the surprise of Pullus and that of most of the other officers of the Roman army, the training of the men of Wa progressed much more smoothly than any of them had anticipated. Naturally, there were language difficulties, particularly in the first few weeks, but the Romans were struck by the eagerness the Wa showed. More importantly, the Wa's acceptance of the radical change to their situation was something that occupied many of the dinnertime conversations in the houses of the Centurions.

  "I can't even imagine how Romans would react if they were told that everything they had come to believe as fact was not only untrue, but then were also forced to suddenly recognize a completely foreign authority they had never even heard of, before it showed up," was how Pullus put it.

  Scribonius considered this for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before he replied, "If it was done the way Caesar did it to these people, I can see it being possible, at least. He moved so fast, and appeared to know so much about the Wa that they were caught by complete surprise. In fact," Scribonius tossed his spoon back into his bowl as he sat back to ruminate further, "I think the worst is still to come."

  "By the gods, I hope not!" Gaius Porcinus groaned. "We don't have enough men left to keep these bastards under control if they rise up again."

  The trio were, as was their long practice, eating in the privacy of Pullus' quarters, but while Gaius and Scribonius were frequent guests, there was one man missing to whose absence each man was adjusting in his own way, and that was Balbus. In fact, very little had been said between Pullus and Scribonius, for that matter, about the loss of the third of what had been incredibly close companions for many years, long before Gaius joined the group. Porcinus knew the two older men missed Balbus tremendously, but didn't feel that it was his place to bring his name up; one of them would do so, in his own time.

  Now, Scribonius answered Gaius' concern with a shake of his head, saying, "Actually, I don't worry about the Wa so much. Like Caesar said, they're used to obeying orders and their class system is even more rigid than ours. From what I can gather, the idea of someone being able to elevate himself from one class to another is unheard of. No," he concluded, "I think it's Zhang and the Han we have to worry about."

  Pullus regarded his friend's words as he listlessly spooned another helping of rice into his bowl. His appetite had returned, but he still found it hard to muster any enthusiasm for what he consider to be the most flavorless food he had ever tasted.

  Finally, he spoke up, "I think that's why Caesar is pushing us so hard to get these barba...." he corrected himself, because Caesar had been extremely explicit in his demand that his officers stop referring to the Wa as barbarians, "...these Wa into fighting our way as quickly as he can."

  "So the fighting's not over, is it?" Gaius asked quietly.

  Pullus and Scribonius exchanged a glance, the very tone of Pullus' nephew's question telling them more than the query itself.

  "No, nephew," Pullus finally answered, but his voice held no censure.

  "Will it ever be?" Gaius asked him, looking his uncle in the eyes, knowing that Pullus wouldn't lie to him.

  Pullus felt a great weariness descend on him, becoming so overpowering that he felt the strength leave his hand, and like Scribonius had moments before, dropped the spoon back into his bowl. Returning Porcinus' gaze, he felt almost overwhelmed with the helplessness that comes from knowing that no answer he could give would provide any comfort. Hadn't they done enough? This thought shot through Pullus' mind like a lightning bolt, and while he had experienced moments of doubt before, when he tried to shake that feeling away, this time it wouldn't leave, clinging persistently in the forefront of his mind, like a spider web one walks through.

  "Maybe not for Caesar," he finally answered Porcinus, the words coming slowly, as that clinging thought started to take on a more tangible form. "But it may be for us."

  Scribonius, sensing there was something more underlying his friend's words, stared at Pullus intently.

  "What are you saying, Titus?" he asked Pullus.

  Turning to meet Scribonius' gaze, Titus didn't flinch.

  "I'm saying that I think it's time I tell Caesar that we're done. It's time to go home."

  The day that Titus Pullus decided to approach Caesar, almost a week after his conversation with Scribonius and Gaius, his nerves were such that it would have been impossible for him to differentiate this day from the day of the great battle on the ridge. He understood that his relationship with Caesar was about to undergo what was likely to be its severest test, and he tried to prepare mentally for what was to come. Although he tried to be optimistic, Pullus readied himself for the worst possible outcome, yet his mind refused to fully plumb the depths of how badly things could go. Part of this was due to the natural barrier that, even after so many years together, existed between a man like Caesar and someone from the ranks like Pullus, no matter how highly ranked the latter might have been. However, what fueled Pullus' uncertainty even more was his acknowledgement, if only to himself, that just in the weeks since the capital had fallen, Caesar had changed. What worr
ied him most was how deeply that change ran in his general. Did Caesar actually believe that he had become a god? Had he finally made that last, final step onto a plane of belief in himself that cut the last threads of what tethered him to the rest of his army, or to the Wa, for that matter?