by Peake, R. W.
At that moment, I was faced with a dilemma, cursing my insatiable curiosity and need to know what was going on as I made my way, now going very slowly towards Corbulo and Balbinus, trying to think of what to do. I knew that Antonius did not have any desire for the news that the veterans would not be receiving land in Italia to get out, but when he told Ahenobarbus that he was not going to Rome to fight for the veterans and the land that was rightfully theirs, I did not see how he could possibly hope to thwart Octavian’s plans. As far as I was concerned, I was with Ahenobarbus in the belief that Antonius had to be in Rome to have any hope of success. While the matter of land for veterans who were retiring the next year would not impact the 10th directly; the men’s discharges were still five years away, the 3rd Gallica, the 4th, and a number of other Legions were the ones most affected. There would doubtless be tremors within my own Legion because of the misfortune of others. There was no way that the men of the 3rd and 4th would sit still for being given land in what we essentially viewed as a barren, uninhabitable wilderness. Doubtless, Antonius would choose the most fertile spots, regardless of who was already settled there, which would cause all sorts of trouble for the settling veterans. To be fair, this would be a problem in Italia as well, which is one reason why Octavian did not want to give up land in the territory of the Republic that he was responsible for, particularly for Legionaries of Antonius, except that in Italia, the retiring veterans would have the full force of the Senate and the law behind them to enforce whatever evictions would take place, albeit with the help of a few Cohorts. Here in the East, the men would have just the law, a law with no teeth in it without the strong arm of a Legion, so they would have to rely on themselves and, in all likelihood, would find themselves fighting all over again. This would be foremost in their minds if and when they learned of the development, as I could easily envision a situation in which a good number of the Legions, and the most veteran at that, simply refused to march another step in any direction until Antonius fixed the problem to their satisfaction. Which, of course, he could not do here in the middle of nowhere; it was this that was foremost in my mind when I walked over to Corbulo and Balbinus, both of whom eyed me curiously.
“What were you doing over there? Trying to listen in on what’s going on in there?” Corbulo jerked his head in the direction of Antonius’ office, where he was still occupied, arguing with Ahenobarbus, I assumed.
“Yes,” I admitted, not seeing any point in denying what was obvious.
“And?” Balbinus demanded, and I looked over at him, thankful that I had to lie to him and not to Corbulo, who I respected more.
“Nothing that you probably don’t already know,” I lied. “Just that Antonius signed a treaty with the Median king, and they have Artavasdes in there, but he’s not saying much.”
I did not see the harm in divulging that one piece of what I had overheard, and I was thankful to see that they seemed to be satisfied with my response.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Corbulo wondered, which I only answered with a shrug.
We were still standing there talking when finally Antonius emerged from his office, holding what looked like a chain in his hand, but there was something different about it that I could not immediately place. Tethered to the other end was Artavasdes, whose hands were shackled by what appeared to be the same type of chain wrapped around his wrists, though the lock was a plain old lock. The shackles were attached to a chain around his waist, from which a length dangled down to his feet, which were also chained. He still wore his diadem, and his robes of finely brocaded material, while torn, were otherwise intact. Artavasdes was staring at the ground, the shame clearly written on his face, and despite what he had done, I felt a pang of sympathy for the man, though it was clear that everyone else was enjoying the spectacle.
“I thought you would like to see the great king of Armenia,” Antonius boomed, the group inside the Praetorium letting out a raucous cheer.
Artavasdes refused to look up to acknowledge what was happening around him, men calling out insults to him as I thought that this was just the beginning for him, or at least the beginning of his end. Antonius raised a hand for quiet, and when the excitement had subsided somewhat, he raised the fist in which he clutched the end of the chain, pointing to it.
“Let it not be said that Marcus Antonius doesn't give this royal prisoner the proper respect. I had these chains made of silver just for this occasion!”
This brought on another round of cheers, but it was not quite as loud, and I heard Corbulo murmur, “I wonder when he had those made.”
It also explained why they looked different, the sound being quite distinctive as they dragged on the ground, making a more musical noise than iron chains. I doubted that Artavasdes would find it pleasing to the ear as he dragged them around to wherever Antonius was going to take him. The first place he dragged him was predictably out to the forum, after having the assembly called for all the men to gather. I had no real desire to watch, but there was no way that I could not be present for a formation of the entire army, so I stood watching as the men roared their approval at the sight of the Armenian king humiliated. Antonius let the men carry on for a time, then signaled for quiet. Involuntarily, I looked over to where the 3rd and 4th were standing side by side, wondering if Antonius was going to make any mention of the dilemma Octavian had put him in.
“My soldiers,” Antonius called out, waiting for his words to be relayed to the Legions farther back. “I give you truly good news! With the capture of this piece of filth who so foully deserted us during the last campaign, and with the agreement that I have just concluded with the Medians whereby they recognize Rome as their master, we have accomplished all that we have set out to do. We can return to Syria, covered with honor and glory. You faced the Armenians in the field, and the defeat was so overwhelming, so convincing that the wretch you see before you begged me for terms. You see the terms I give to traitors to Rome! Now we can return, we can go home!”
He paused, clearly expecting to hear the roar of cheers washing over him. Instead, the silence was absolute, though it only lasted for a moment before a buzzing began rippling through the ranks, slowly growing in volume. Men started with a whispered, “No,” but they quickly raised their voices until it was a steady and constant roar of protest, men shouting their dismay at the news. Antonius’ face was a picture of shock, clearly not expecting this reaction. He waved his hands, trying to get the men to quiet down so that he could speak.
“We want to make back the money we lost!”
“How are we expected to retire without more money?”
“We’re not going home broke again!”
These were the types of things being shouted at Antonius, the men ignoring his plea for them to quiet down, and there were a fair number of them from the 10th who were shouting. This is what it was about, when all was said and done, money, and I remember thinking that of all the people who should appreciate this, it was Antonius, who had been almost single-minded in his pursuit of it for the entire time he was contending with Octavian. He always had a reputation for greed, even when he was a Legate with Caesar, but what he needed to fulfill his ambition of becoming the First Man had to have been a staggering amount. Now he was being accosted from his army, all of them, or most of them clamoring for the same thing he was always after and it was clear that he did not like it. Finally, the men quieted enough for him to be heard, and I was close enough to see the rigid spine and clenched fists as he spoke, though his voice betrayed none of that tension.
“Who told you that you were going to return without money?” he demanded, and it was true, he had made no such statement.
But Antonius was demonstrating a trait I had seen in so many of the upper classes, assuming that because few of the men were educated that they were stupid. However, I could see by the faces of the men as I glanced around that they were not fooled, though he seemed oblivious as he plowed on.
“You will all receive healthy bonuses
, as befits Legionaries who have conducted a successful campaign. I swear to you all now on Jupiter’s Stone that none of you will have cause for complaint for the amounts you will receive.”
“How much?”
This came from somewhere in the 19th Legion, and I suspected it was a Centurion, but it was quickly picked up throughout the army, and I could see that Antonius was dangerously close to boiling over.
His voice sounded strained as he replied, “I haven't decided on an amount, but I can assure you that I will consult with your Centurions and we will come up with an amount that pleases all of you.”
Without waiting for any response, Antonius wheeled to stalk back to the Praetorium, snapping an order for Artavasdes to be dragged away to custody with the provosts. Watching his retreating back, I thought that it was highly unlikely that the Triumvir would ever be able to come up with a sum that would satisfy every man as he promised, but that was more due to the greed of some men than anything else. I also wondered where in Hades he was going to get the money.
It became clear that Antonius had no intention of telling the Primi Pili of the retiring Legions of Octavian’s declaration that they would not be receiving Italian lands, so I kept what I knew to myself, though it was not the easiest decision to make. We began the march back to Syria with the men still in a surly mood, although there were no overt acts of disobedience. Antonius’ mood corresponded with that of the army, making it as if both officers and men were engaged in a giant sulk all the way back to Syria. Leaving the Medes behind now that they were our friends, Antonius also left orders that they should continue to wage war against the Armenians and their new king Artaxes, the son of Artavasdes. Perhaps a week into our return journey, we were caught by a Median courier riding hard, and with one stroke Antonius’ dilemma about where the money would come from to come up with a payment for the army seemed to have been solved. The courier carried news of the fall of Artaxata and the plunder of the city, which apparently was fabulously wealthy. I suppose this made sense because it was the Armenian capital. The Median Artavasdes was honoring the newfound friendship and treaty with us by sending a train carrying half of the plunder from the Armenians, and according to the courier’s message, just this portion solved Antonius’ money problems. Naturally, this improved Antonius’ mood considerably, although he did not tell the men of this development, and the only way I heard about it was through Diocles’ network of contacts in the Praetorium. I wondered why Antonius did not immediately spread this news, before I began to think that he was planning on keeping the money for himself, so I toyed with the idea of putting a quiet word out as a way to force Antonius to use the money to honor his promise. I finally decided that I valued my skin too much, knowing that Antonius would be relentless in his pursuit of whoever leaked word. Gradually, as the weather continued to cooperate and the miles passed, the men slowly recovered from their funk, the prospect of returning to the world of wine, women, and gambling with someone other than the same old faces cheering them up. My thoughts were of one thing; Miriam, and I was in a state of anticipation that seemed composed of equal parts joy and worry. While we had not been gone as long as we thought we would be, it was still enough time when the woman you love is pregnant with your child that there is more than enough reason to worry. Childbirth is a hard business on women, and I had known too many men whose women or children had died, sometimes both, not to worry. We would be arriving back home before the baby was due, and that more than anything gave me reason to want to end the campaign, so unlike the rest of the men, I was actually happy to be returning.
Rolling through Samosata on our way to Antioch, we stopped for a few days to give the stock a chance to rest, at least that was the reason Antonius gave, but I suspected that it was to give the train of plunder a chance to catch up, since every day a courier from the Medes arrived with a report on its progress. To my eyes, while the stock was slightly worn, they were not sufficiently so to warrant a stay of almost a week, and the men certainly did not need the rest. We were all more than ready to go by the time the order came to resume the march, moving next to Antioch, arriving in the capital of the province in mid-June.
We stayed in Antioch for more than two weeks, and ironically, this was the most difficult period of the campaign for the Centurions, since the men took out their anger and frustration at the premature end to their quest for loot on the hapless citizens of the city. I was forced to execute three Legionaries before the 10th got back in hand, while the other Primi Pili were forced to take similar measures before things were under control. Then the train of plunder arrived, whereupon Antonius immediately called an assembly of the army, where we were greeted by the sight of more than a dozen obviously heavily laden wagons, arrayed in a semicircle behind the Triumvir. The sight of the wagons elicited an excited buzz among the men, despite Antonius keeping the presence of the train a secret, and I had not divulged what I learned to anyone, not even to Scribonius. I was beginning to feel weighed down by all the secrets I was keeping, longing for the days when all I had to worry about was running a Legion. Antonius was beaming, his smile clearly visible to the men in the last rank, and once we had gathered and come to intente, he turned to gesture to the wagons behind him with an expansive sweep of his arms. Then he turned back around to face the men, his voice booming across the forum.
“My soldiers, I know that some of you doubted Marcus Antonius. I know that some of you didn't believe me when I said that you would be compensated for this campaign. But in these wagons is just a portion of the spoils given to us by our allies the Medes, courtesy of their conquest of Artaxata that occurred a month ago. It is from this hoard that I will pay every Legionary from a Legion with more than a year on its enlistment 1,000 sesterces!”
The ground shook with the roaring approval of the men, but Antonius was not finished, although it took a few moments for the men to quiet down. Finally, he finished by announcing, “For those Legions who are retiring next year, I will pay every Legionary the sum of 2,000 sesterces. Naturally, Centurions and Optios will be paid more.”
There was good-natured grumbling at this, but nothing that was unexpected, and I was curious as to how much we would be receiving. With this good news, and with the cheers of the men ringing in his ears, Antonius dismissed the men to go back to their areas, all of them chattering about what they were going to do with the money.
We had to wait a week for the spoils to be converted into hard cash, Antonius’ money people being hard at work melting down the silver ingots then hammering them into money. Finally, the day came when each man received a pouch heavy with coins, carried to each Legion in iron-hooped chests. One of the generals oversaw the disbursal of the money, this being one of the few times when the vast gulf between general and Legionary was not as vast, with even men like Ahenobarbus making jokes, teasing men about what they would do with their earnings. Antonius stopped at each Legion, giving a short speech thanking the men for all they had done, admittedly not that much on this campaign. Nevertheless, each of us knew that this was just as much about the previous campaign as the current one. The Centurions of the lower five grades each received 10,000 sesterces; the Centurions of the next four grades received 15,000, and the Centurions of the first grade received 20,000, while I and the other Primi Pili received 25,000 sesterces. These are all staggering sums, but even after such a massive outlay of cash, it was not lost on any of us that more than half of the wagons that rumbled into Antioch remained. With the men paid, Antonius gave us another week for the men to debauch themselves, the man taking full advantage of the opportunity, some of them not taking a sober breath the whole week. It was a groaning, sour bunch that the Centurions rounded up the day before we were set to march back to Damascus, with part of the army ordered to stay in Antioch to ease the strain of supporting such a large host. For a short time it sounded as if the 10th might be selected to stay in Antioch, something that I could not accept, so 2,000 sesterces of my bonus went to the clerk charged with deciding what
Legion went where to ensure that we returned to Damascus.
We left Antioch at the end of June, the sun already broiling the men just a few thirds of a watch after dawn, making us all thankful that we were able to march without wearing armor. The first day the men were in bad shape from the excesses of the previous week, meaning we had more than the normal number of stragglers, something that did not make me happy at all, therefore the next day I made sure the men knew that there were floggings in their future if there was a repeat performance. Fortunately for everyone, they took me at my word, and we more than doubled the mileage from the previous day. I was in a tearing hurry to get to Damascus, and although I refused to reveal why to Scribonius, Balbus, or Gaius, I doubt that I fooled any of them. Antonius was now heading to Alexandria, but he was going overland, not willing to part with the plunder train, and I cannot say that I blamed him. He still had not told the Primi Pili of the retiring Legions of the problem with the Italian lands, and since both Corbulo and Spurius were marching with us, I decided that the best approach would be to avoid the two of them completely for the march to Damascus. It made things awkward, since I repeatedly declined their offer to eat dinner, and they clearly sensed I was hiding something from them, but I did not know what else to do.
Once we arrived in Damascus, I am only slightly ashamed to say that I spent as little time in camp as I could get away with before rushing off to the villa. I had sent Diocles ahead immediately upon marching in to give Miriam proper warning that I was coming, and he was waiting to greet me at the door, the expression on his face causing my stomach to twist in knots.
