by Peake, R. W.
The process of loading the Legion took an entire day, which of course meant that the men who embarked first had to sit in the cramped holds of their ships, bobbing about in the harbor. Even in the calm waters of the protected harbor of Ephesus, there is enough motion in the water to make men with more sensitive stomachs seasick. This misery is shared by all those sitting next to the unfortunate, meaning that it is not unusual to see one man start to retch from the movement of the ship, causing those around him to do likewise. Soon the bottom of the hold would be filled with the contents of men’s stomachs, and the ordeal is just beginning. One could stand on the deck of their own ship and hear the sounds of vomiting emanating from the holds of every vessel, accompanied by cursing and prayers to the gods to relieve the suffering. This was a time that I was thankful that as a Centurion I was above it all, so to speak, on the main deck, vividly remembering the trips to Britannia crammed in the hold. The loading process took all day and the better part of the night, then we had to wait for the following tide to sail out of the harbor late the next morning. Fortunately, the trip was uneventful, if a little rough. We traveled northwest, sailing around the Peloponnesus and up the coast, landing at a dreary, marshy spot called Actium.
Chapter 4- Actium
Although I understood why Antonius and his engineering officers chose the spot and that they did so from a tactical standpoint, its isolation and the boggy ground made Actium a miserable place on which to build a camp. The only civilization nearby was a tiny village, home to pearl divers and housing a few temples that had clearly seen better days. The nearest trees of sufficient size were located on a promontory to the south about two miles away, so that as soon as we disembarked, I put half the men to work, sending them to fell the trees we would need for the towers. Meanwhile, the rest of the men worked to unload the gear, supplies, and livestock. The other Primi Pili were doing much the same, although some chose to have their men unload before putting them to work. The engineers had already staked out the outlines of the camp, which was huge, and was another reason that Antonius had selected this spot, it being large and barren enough for the entire army. The marshy ground also guaranteed the presence of bugs, with millions of marsh flies and mosquitoes swarming about the men, obviously celebrating this sudden feast of flesh and blood that presented itself. Bugs flew up our noses, into our mouths and our ears, causing men to gag and spit out the tiny vermin as they worked. By necessity, the camp was huge, and there was no way that just the eight Legions that came over in the first wave would be able to complete it, so in a hasty meeting of the Primi Pili with Ahenobarbus, who was in command of the leading contingent, it was decided that our first task should be to drain the swampy ground as much as possible. The hope was that draining the ground would rob the bugs of a home, making them go elsewhere, along with reducing the clinging, sticky muck that would soon coat everything. We had a few alea of cavalry to act as scouts and as soon as they landed they began ranging out about the countryside, looking for signs of the enemy.
Actium was on the southern tip of a narrow inlet that led into a large protected bay, called Arta as I recall, with enough space for the entire fleet to harbor, another reason that Antonius had selected this spot. The northern point of the inlet jutted down so that the entrance into the bay was very narrow, and the way that the northern and southern points overlapped, it was much like a man with a bit of overbite, requiring the masters of the ships coming into the bay to steer slightly north before bearing sharply south to navigate past the upthrust point of land that formed the southern tip.
The men were grumbling about being placed here in the middle of nowhere, far from the distractions and enjoyment of wineshops and whorehouses. They had gotten soft from all their time in cities, first in Damascus, then Ephesus; it was now than two years since we had marched into Armenia, while our transfer across the water to Greece took place late in the season, meaning we would be spending the winter in this spot. I believe that the knowledge that we would be spending the winter in what the men considered to be little better than the privy where they squatted further contributed to the overall low morale that the Centurions faced. Things were not made easier by the fact that in our hearts even the Centurions wished we were elsewhere. I found it hard to stop worrying about Miriam, wondering if Iras had fooled her, and to a certain extent me, as I had begun to believe that she was not the evil bitch that I had first thought, despite still having strong reservations. However, nothing could be done about it here in this marsh so I forced myself to concentrate on the job at hand. In a manner similar to what we did at Philippi, we dug a series of shallow ditches, making them progressively deeper as they emptied out into the outer ditch so the water would drain. The advantage of marshy ground is that it is easy to drive the spade into the earth; the disadvantage is that each spadeful is soaked with water, making it that much heavier and the straightforward task of digging even more exhausting. The cavalry scouts returned to report that there was no sign of Octavian’s forces, which eased the pressure of building a marching camp in the face of the enemy. The first day saw the men who worked on the camp covered in muck and filth, while the men cutting wood were relatively clean, and I made sure that the men who escaped the bugs and muck this day would not be so lucky the next.
At the end of a week, we were reinforced by the second wave, which landed to find a much drier and less bug-infested camp than when the first wave landed, though you would not know it to hear the complaining of the new arrivals. Not surprisingly, this did not sit well with men who did all the work, and before the first night passed, men had to be separated and punishments given because of the bad blood. With the additional labor force, the camp was almost completed, with the exception of the stakes to finish the palisade that were still with the third and final wave. Fortunately, there were still no signs of Octavian and as we were to learn, he was in no hurry to cross the water from Italia to face us, more concerned with consolidating his power first. His first step was to “encourage” every male citizen in Italia to swear an oath of loyalty to him, including the men of the Legions who had recently been discharged and elected to return to Italia despite Octavian refusing to give them any land. He also continued his assault on Cleopatra’s image, emphasizing her role as the seducer of Antonius, who he was careful to avoid speaking ill of in public. Little by little, day by day, in the patient manner that he was becoming famous for, Octavian chipped away at Antonius’ power base in Italia, winning over the other Triumvir’s remaining supporters in the Senate. When possible, he used soft words and flattery, but there were whispered tales of harsher measures, of midnight visits to Senator’s homes, and mysterious disappearances. As was usual with Octavian, there was nothing more substantial than those whispers, so I cannot say whether they were true or false. My suspicion is that these acts were not nearly as numerous as his enemies implied, but I am not so naïve as to think that it never happened. Both Octavian and Antonius were playing for the highest stakes imaginable; control of the strongest, greatest civilization in the known world, making it hard to fault either of them for doing whatever they thought was necessary to come out on top. Regardless of the truth, Octavian’s campaign was paying off, while Antonius was not doing himself any favors.
Antonius seemed to alternate between ignoring Octavian, then doing something that would not only antagonize his colleague, but the lower classes as well. Yet of all the things he did, his order to Octavia to quit his house, supposedly giving her one day in which to pack her belongings, along with those of all of the children she was caring for, I believe severed the last tether of sympathy and support he had with Romans of all classes. He had divorced Octavia some time before, but seemed to be content to let matters lie between them and, as I was to learn later, his divorce of Octavia was common knowledge only on our side of Our Sea. Octavia’s humiliation so enraged and inflamed the people that it gave Octavian the opportunity to pass a Senatus Consultus Ultimatum against Cleopatra, declaring war on the queen while specifi
cally not naming Antonius. Whereas prior to this there had still been enough support for Antonius to block this motion, now it passed handily, his former clients seeing that to refuse to back Octavian would be injurious not only to their public fortunes, but their lives.
All of this took place as the rest of the army and navy moved to Actium to settle into winter camp, although we would be spending the winter under leather and not building huts as was normal. Instead, we worked on improving our tactical position by digging a double line of entrenchments from the northern edge of the camp further north to the shore to enclose a small natural harbor known locally as the Haven of Actium. It was in this harbor where the transports carrying our supplies would land and be unloaded, hence the double entrenchments protecting it. The bulk of the fleet, the warships and transports, were anchored in the Bay of Arta, with a line of picket boats always on station across the narrow neck entering the bay. To guard our supply line that ultimately led all the way back to Alexandria, we built a series of small forts and naval stations, ranging down the coast, with a guard of at least one Cohort’s strength at each one. Each Legion had to detach one Cohort for these duties and I selected Metellus and the Third, who were sent to the base on the island of Leucas, which was separated by a narrow strip of water between the island and mainland. This base was constructed on the northwestern tip of the island, giving us a position where artillery could be brought to bear on any ships of Octavian that ventured near to our fortifications. From where our main camp was located to Metellus and the Third's redoubt was perhaps a matter of eight or nine miles, and the heights on the island were clearly visible. The forward supply base was established at Patrae, and there was a steady stream of ships ferrying supplies to the Haven, where a wharf had been built. Working parties were required on a daily basis, rotating among the Legions, to unload the ships, which helped keep the men busy. Slowly and steadily, we established a solid operating base, with a steady and protected line of supply, prompting the feeling among the Centurions that at least Antonius had learned his lessons from the Parthian campaigns. I wish I could say that the rankers felt the same way.
As the army labored and settled in for the winter, Antonius and Cleopatra were in Athens, feasting and holding lavish parties that lasted for days. Quite naturally, the news of their debauchery did not go over well with the men, not least because they were unable to indulge themselves in similar activities, even if it was on a more modest scale. Then, there were the omens and signs that occupy the minds while exciting the fears of men in the ranks, and not a few Centurions as well. I have never been particularly religious, or superstitious, but I believe that we are all at the whim of the gods, so even I had to give pause to some of the things that were happening all about us. The difference between me and the men who put so much faith in these omens is that I do not automatically believe that they actually occurred, and am willing to accept the possibility that reports of these happenings could be the result of overactive imaginations.
First, there was news of an earthquake at Pisaurum, a veteran’s colony established by Antonius on the Ionian Sea, supposedly swallowing the colony up, leaving no trace. In Alba Longa, a statue of Marcus Antonius erected in the forum began to sweat and would not stop, even after it was wiped clean every day. There was a statue of Bacchus in Athens at one of the theaters and a violent wind blew it flat. This was connected to Antonius because of his claims to be the new Dionysus, which as I am sure you know, gentle reader, is the Greek name for our god. Despite the fact that the reports of these happenings excited the men greatly, what I noticed was that nobody seemed to be able to name someone who had seen any of these events firsthand. However, the one report that did concern me, because it was witnessed by a number of men that I knew personally, was the bolt of lightning that struck the statue of Hercules in Patrae. Since Antonius claimed direct descent from Hercules, that seemed to me to be a clear sign of the gods’ disfavor and it did give me pause. The men spent many thirds of a watch about their fires muttering about these signs, and there was nothing that the Centurions could say that seemed to help. I suspected that for most of the Centurions, the problem was that they did not believe their own words coming out of their mouths, because they read the signs the same way as the men did.
Either oblivious to or ignoring these omens, Antonius continued his preparations, sending for his client kings, either demanding their presence in person or requiring more troops. From far-off Libya came Bocchus with a few thousand cavalry, armed and trained in the same manner as the Numidians; Tarcondemus of Upper Cilicia brought a levy of spearmen and some cavalry of indifferent quality; Philadelphus of Paphlagonia, the mountainous country on the Euxine Sea between Bithynia and Pontus, brought a few thousand horsemen. Mithridates of Commagene, the son of Antiochus and his successor, brought about 5,000 men of foot, armed with wicker shields and long spears, while Sadalus of Thrace supplied another 5,000 men, evenly split between infantry and light cavalry. Perhaps most telling were the client kings who did not show up, since in the past they had been the men whose lips were most firmly attached to Antonius’ backside. Polemon of Pontus sent a contingent of cavalry, although I personally thought that he could be excused, given his experience of being held hostage the last time he marched with Antonius. Herod the fat toad made his excuses as well, sending a force of 5,000 Jews, well-armed and trained, and if half of what I heard about what happened whenever Herod and Cleopatra were in the same room was true, I suppose he also had a good reason to absent himself. Finally, Artavasdes the Median, who was by agreement Antonius’ future son-in-law, sent a force of cataphracts and archers, but not his royal personage. Their absence did not go unnoticed by the men of all ranks and, coupled with the omens and portents I have described earlier, created a sense of futility that I had never seen or experienced before.
The men seemed resigned to the idea that our defeat was a foregone conclusion and in the Legions where the ranks had been filled with men from the East, desertion became a problem, men slipping over the rampart to make their way back to wherever they came from. Some of them were caught and were executed the next day in front of the army, but it did not stop men from trying to escape. For the most part, most of the veterans stayed put; in the 10th we only had a half-dozen men who decided they wanted no part in what was about to happen, and none of them were much loss. It might sound strange, since all of them escaped, meaning that their close comrades had to be flogged, but there was still a sense of pride in their accomplishment, such as it was. All of the deserters from the other Legion had about as much chance of being caught as escaping, half of them either being grabbed trying to slip past the sentries, or in the first day after the alarm was raised. Only the men of the 10th all got away clean, none of them ever being seen again, something that the men quietly gloated about. I found it surprising that after seeing how easily the deserters made their escape that more men did not follow them, particularly given their mood, but for reasons I could not completely fathom they chose instead to stay put, despite their conviction that the cause they were fighting for was doomed. This was the mood of the army of Marcus Antonius in those last months of winter, while we waited for Octavian.
“Agrippa has crossed the Ionian Sea and landed at Methoni,” Ahenobarbus announced at our morning briefing early in the year. “He attacked our base there, and it’s been captured, along with the garrison.”
It was the year of the third Consulship of both Octavian and Marcus Antonius, although Octavian had his former colleague stripped of his Consulship, putting a nothing named Marcus Valerius Corvinus in his place. Despite this being expected news, it still caused a stir, as the reality that the battle that had been looming on the horizon for so many years was drawing close enough to be recognized. Upon hearing it, men glanced at each other, exchanging quiet remarks, while I was assailed by the thought that the moment when Octavian would most likely reach out to me was perhaps just days away. It all depended on how quickly Octavian followed with the rest of his f
leet.
Agrippa established a forward operating base at Methoni and in his always efficient manner, sent a number of seaborne patrols out in an effort to find the naval stations protecting our supply line. In doing so, he chanced across a convoy of transports making their way from Alexandria to Patrae, loaded down with grain and ingots of iron and lead that we needed to make repairs to weapons and armor, as well as making the sling bullets that had proven so effective against the Parthians. Although the grain was important, the loss of the iron and lead was even more crushing since this was our only source of supply, Octavian now controlling all of the mines in Greece and Hispania. Our grain supply was ample, at least for the time being, but that also depended on how long we would be in Greece and on campaign; according to the tallies for which I bribed a clerk in the Praetorium, we had enough for three more months at our current consumption, without resupply. These were not our only problems. Spending the winter in the unhealthy air of Actium, even with the marshes drained, caused an outbreak of fever that took a heavy toll on the men. It got to the point where one in ten men were afflicted and on the sick list; of those, about a quarter of that number ended up dying. Without knowing exactly when Octavian would be moving, there was not much we could do other than to wait, despite stepping up our training regimen with more forced marches. Even with Agrippa many miles away on the southwest tip of the Peloponnesus, all of the Primi Pili began making the men train and march ready for battle, which of course the men hated since it meant marching wearing their armor. That was a mark of the respect we had for Agrippa; all of us worried about when and where he might show up, knowing that if he did, it would be to fight.
