by Peake, R. W.
Epilogue
Caesar never received the reinforcements, but the truth was that it hadn't surprised him all that much. It had been more of a hope than anything else, and since the reinforcements never showed up, the fleet that had been waiting in the Red Sea had dispersed. This, also, wasn't a huge loss. It hadn't been the entire fleet, and navies were extremely expensive propositions to maintain, so the subtraction of those ships turned out to be a net gain to his treasury. And it wasn't until a little more than seven years after Titus Pullus and the men in his care had returned to Rome, that Gaius Julius Caesar breathed his last, sometime in the night, peacefully. He had been preceded by most of his Legates; only Aulus Hirtius still lived, and he had been appointed as the official guardian of Caesar's son and heir who, even at barely ten years old, had shown to be a prodigy much in the mold of his father. In physical appearance, however, he couldn't have been more different. It was true that he had inherited his father's height, particularly when compared to the Wa, but where Caesar's hair had been like spun gold as a youth, his son's was as black as a crow's wing, and while his eyes were rounder than those of other Wa, his skin was the same golden hue. Most striking, however, was that his eyes were all Caesar: blue like the color of the deepest ice one saw in the glaciers of high mountains, and the mixture of Wa and Roman was extremely striking. The most important thing was that the native-born Wa accepted him and his divinity.
If some of the Wa had doubts about Caesar's divinity, however, they all believed at least in his infallibility, thanks to the two repulses of the Han invaders. These occurred when the Han emperor, angry at what he considered the ingratitude of the upstart Caesar, tried to take by force what he hadn't been able to gain by guile. The second defeat had been so thorough and bloody that it would convince the Han, for many generations, that the Wa were best left alone. As far as Zhang, the Han emissary, was concerned, soon after the first failed invasion he had just...disappeared one day, never to be seen or heard from again. The men of Caesar's army for the most part settled down on the islands, intermarrying and mingling with the people of Wa who, if not happy, were at least resigned to this new reality in their lives. In truth, for the average Wa peasant, nothing really changed, and the ranks of the nobility had been so ravaged in their attempt to dislodge Caesar's army, there was in fact a shortage of men of this rank. Which, not surprisingly, Caesar supplied with his Centurions. Slowly, but gradually, the two cultures merged, but in one area they stayed completely Roman, and that was in the organization and training of what were now known as the Legions of Wa, while at the same time harnessing the martial spirit and skill inherent in the people.
Titus Pullus, Sextus Scribonius, and the rest of the men who returned to Rome never marched another day under the standard, and, in fact, lived out their days as men of wealth and status of varying degrees. In the particular case of the two friends, both of them found themselves elevated into the rolls of the Senate, with both Antonius and Octavian as their sponsors, although it must be said that for whatever reason, the two pairs of men had as little to do with each other as possible. Pullus and Scribonius purchased adjoining estates in the countryside not far from Rome, and it should surprise nobody that they didn't go into Rome often. One oddity, at least as far as their neighbors were concerned, were the additions both men made to their estates, making them almost impregnable to an attack from all but the largest force, complete with a private security force that appeared to be almost completely composed of former comrades, who lived in comfortable housing on the estate. However, most Romans assumed that this was just from ingrained habit and put it down to that and thought little more about it.
Unfortunately, Titus Pullus' premonition of upcoming strife was absolutely correct. In fact, in less than a year, the relationship between the two co-rulers had degenerated to the point that Rome wasn't big enough for both of them. In a move that astonished the Roman world, the two men essentially split the huge Republic into two parts, with Marcus Antonius setting himself up as the ruler of all Roman possessions on the southern side of Our Sea. Then, within a year of installing himself as ruler of the East, word arrived in Rome that he had relocated his headquarters to Alexandria, and it wasn't even in the space of a month or two after this move that word arrived that he and Cleopatra had become a couple. Meanwhile, on the Rome side of Our Sea, despite Pullus' low opinion of the man now recognized by all—except Pullus, of course, as Caesar—not even Pullus could deny that Octavian was proving to be a wise ruler. He also proved to be a master manipulator, because while appearing to be the voice of moderation and compromise, he maneuvered his rival into a position where armed conflict was inevitable. When hostilities finally flared again, pitting Roman against Roman, it was the subject of many, many watches of speculation in the taverns, wineshops, and whorehouses on both sides of the Roman world why neither man called on Titus Pullus, Scribonius, or any of the men who would have been the most experienced and formidable men in either army. However, it should have been no surprise that, even if they had been called, no member of that most select group would have answered the call, not just because every one of these men had endured their fill of fighting. More importantly—even if it was the unknown reason—lending support to one or the other side would have ruptured the uneasy truce between the two men vying for control of Rome and the only group of men who could have made a difference over and above that provided by their sword arms. No, Pullus, Scribonius, and their comrades had fought their last battle, one that changed history and saw Caesar, the real Caesar, triumphant.