by Peake, R. W.
Cleopatra had taken to trying to conduct surprise inspections of the men, but she was met with such open hostility from the Centurions that she quickly abandoned this course. Fortunately for both of us, she gave me a wide berth, while I did the same, turning to head the other way whenever I was around the Praetorium and it looked as if our paths might cross. Ahenobarbus’ condition steadily worsened, but he rose off his sickbed to make one last plea to Antonius to come to grips with Octavian and end the war, pressing forcefully for the use of the army instead of Antonius’ fleet. Diocles’ spy in the Praetorium reported that Cleopatra became enraged, mercilessly ridiculing Ahenobarbus for daring to second-guess her and Antonius. According to the scribe, Antonius sat mute during the exchange, as if he were helpless to stop her from berating and alienating a man who had cleaved to Antonius through the worst of times. This proved too much for Ahenobarbus to bear, so despite his feeble condition, he somehow summoned the strength to mount a horse to ride out of the camp, then hired a boat to take him across the bay to Octavian’s camp. While Antonius could not stop Cleopatra from running off most of his highborn supporters, he did brave her anger by sending all of Ahenobarbus’ baggage off to him after he had departed.
I do not know if Ahenobarbus’ words were the spur to Antonius that prompted him to take action on land, but from somewhere a plan was concocted to try and cut off Octavian’s water supply. Fortunately, we were not involved, since this seemed to be a plan doomed to failure from its inception. Using a mixed force of cavalry, he shipped a contingent across the bay to land essentially behind Octavian’s camp, between the camp and a river that was Octavian’s supply of fresh water. The bulk of the cavalry, Galatians mostly, although the overall command was led by the Paphlagonian king Philadelphus who led the blocking force, were sent the long way around the entire bay, which measures some 20 miles deep and 11 miles across, to reinforce the men holding their tenuous position blocking the river. The reason I state that the plan was destined to fail was not that the idea was bad. The problem lay in the fact that to effectively cut off Octavian’s water supply, the river had to be guarded the entire length from where it turned up into the mountains and down to where it emptied into the bay. It could have been held, but not by cavalry, except that is all that Antonius sent to accomplish his goal. Even if the main body of the cavalry had reached the holding force, I doubt they could have accomplished the task set for them, but they were intercepted by a mounted force led by none other than our old quartermaster Titius, who was one of the first to defect to Octavian over Cleopatra. The main body was commanded by Amyntas the Galatian, while Philadelphus commanded the holding force and when Titius routed Amyntas’ men, both men promptly surrendered, defecting to Octavian. This was a disheartening setback, but it was nothing compared to the disaster that was about to befall us, as Agrippa struck again, and it would cost the 10th Legion dearly.
There is an island, a craggy upthrust of rock named Leucas Island that acts as a guard to the mouth of the bay. Anyone holding that island could fall on the rear of any enemy trying to force its way into the bay, making it strategically important. That is why Metellus’ Cohort was placed there, along with a squadron of triremes, both to protect the island and to serve as a deterrent to an attack on the fleet in the bay. One feature of the marshy ground at Actium was that during the night as the land cooled off, a heavy, misty fog would form that usually lasted until mid-morning. Some days it was barely visible, but other days it hung over our shoulders like a sodden cloak, effectively blocking our view more than a few hundred paces out into the water. It was on just such a morning that Agrippa chose to descend on the island, landing a force of several Cohorts on the island, while his own fleet attacked the triremes anchored in the small bay.
Because of the fog, no alarm was raised that might have sent aid to the garrison and squadron, at least until it was too late. I only became aware that something had happened when the bucinator for the guard Cohort manning the western side of the camp facing out to sea sounded the call that signaled an enemy was sighted. Not knowing if it was a probe or an all-out attack, I took no chances, having Valerius sound the call to arms and assembly in the forum, while I hurried to the Praetorium to find out what was happening. Arriving to total confusion, I saw there were Tribunes scurrying about, shouting what I soon recognized to be groundless speculation about what was transpiring, while Canidius and a few of the other generals stood in a knot, looking anxious. Spotting Corbulo, dressed in his uniform as Evocatus, and standing with Spurius and Caecina, I walked over to them. Their faces were grim and when they turned to see me coming. I saw Corbulo and Spurius exchange a glance that put me on my guard, though I could not say why.
“What’s happening? Do you know any more than this bunch?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the Tribunes, who seemed intent on acting like a bunch of panicked women.
Corbulo shot Spurius that same look, as if they were trying to decide who should speak and I found I did not have patience for such behavior at that moment.
“What is it?” I snapped. “Both of you look like I caught you trying to fuck a Vestal.”
Finally, Corbulo spoke, his voice low. “It looks like Agrippa has taken Leucas.”
I heard a sharp hiss of someone sucking in a breath, only dimly aware that it was me, as my stomach lurched.
“How do you know this?” I demanded, despite somehow already knowing that it was true.
Caecina spoke. “Because it’s my Cohort on guard duty. Curtius, my Decimus Pilus Prior is in command. He’s a good man and not likely to make a mistake. Once the fog cleared, his men on the southwest tower saw what was happening.”
“That’s a long way off,” I said doubtfully, knowing that I was desperately looking for any chance that the lookout was wrong. “I don’t see how your man could tell exactly what was going on.”
“He couldn’t see the fighting on land,” Caecina conceded. “But he saw at least two of the triremes go down and the others scatter. How about your Pilus Prior out there? Is he a good man? Do you think he can hold out long enough to send relief?”
“He’s one of my best,” I said emphatically, thinking of all the times Metellus had performed with skill and bravery while under my command. “I would put him just behind Balbus and Scribonius as my best Centurion.”
“Then maybe there’s hope yet.” Corbulo tried to sound reassuring, but it rang hollow in my ears.
Apparently, he felt the same way, since he reached out to give me an awkward pat. Looking over to Canidius, who was still standing there talking, I felt a surge of anger that we were not moving to save not only my men, but the island from being invested. Resolving to press the man to take some action, I began walking over to him, girding myself for what I was sure would be an unpleasant encounter, the bad blood between us from the first Parthian campaign obviously still lingering. Before I could reach him, however, there was a commotion at the entrance and a man came bursting in, panting for breath. I recognized the man as a squadron navarch belonging to the Egyptian segment of our fleet, despite the fact he was spattered with blood and his uniform was torn. Spotting Canidius, he headed directly for the general, just as Antonius finally emerged from his private quarters, followed immediately by Cleopatra. That stopped me in my tracks since I was not willing to get any closer to the queen, instead watching as she and Antonius joined Canidius. Instead, I moved off to the side out of her line of vision, but I did not need to worry, her attention being pinned on her fellow Egyptian. Approaching the three people, the navarch faltered for a moment before turning to kneel in front of Cleopatra, his head bowed. There was a shocked gasp from most of the onlookers at this effrontery to Antonius’ authority, but he did not seem to notice.
“Well?” he snapped. “What's the situation?”
Looking confused, the navarch turned his attention to Antonius, speaking in Greek with an accent that told me he was one of the Macedonian Egyptians, which partially explained why he deferred to Cleopatra first
.
“General, I regret to inform you that the island of Leucas has been taken by the forces of Marcus Agrippa.”
Even though I knew what he was probably going to say, I felt a shock jolt me and I could see by the faces of the others standing there that they felt much the same way. Antonius’ face drained of all color, his jaw hanging open, and he took a staggering step backward. Only Cleopatra seemed to have any self-possession, asking the navarch to describe what had happened.
“They used the fog that hangs around the coast,” the man explained, continuing in Greek.
Knowing that I spoke the language, Corbulo, Spurius, and Caecina came to stand next to me, and I whispered the translation as he continued.
“They attacked just as the sun was coming up, so that between the fog and the sun hanging low in the sky, they were shielded from view. At least,” he added, “until it was too late.” His head dropped as he described the attack, clearly not wanting to look his audience in the eye. “While part of their squadron engaged our ships, another portion landed an assault force that launched an immediate attack on the camp. They came prepared with ladders and hooks to pull the palisade down.”
My chest tightened as he talked, knowing that under such a well-prepared assault even a man as good as Metellus was fighting against overwhelming odds.
“Most of our own ships were unable to pull anchor and maneuver, so it quickly degenerated into a boarding action,” the navarch said, explaining the blood on his body and garments.
“And how did you escape?” Cleopatra’s tone was cold as she looked down at the still-kneeling man.
“By the sacrifice of most of my squadron,” he said quietly. “We were able to repulse the first attempt to board our vessel, then Lysander was able to get underway and he rammed the ship we were engaged with, allowing me to break free.”
“How . . . fortunate for you.” Her voice dripped with contempt and sarcasm, eliciting another gasp at the insult.
The navarch stiffened, but his tone was even as he replied, “If you call seeing many of your friends sacrifice their lives for you, then yes, Highness, I am fortunate.”
Before Cleopatra could respond, Antonius interrupted. “What of the garrison? Are they holding out?”
The man looked genuinely sad as he shook his head. “I regret to say, general, that there is no chance that they are still fighting by this point. The last I saw of them, they had formed into an orbis in the middle of the camp and they were beset on all sides.”
As I translated this to the others, my jaw felt tight as the words seemed to stick on my tongue. I said a silent prayer for Metellus, the rest of the Centurions, and men of the Third Cohort. This was the second full Cohort that I had lost while marching for Antonius and it was a bitter, bitter potion to swallow.
“General, I can tell you that your men fought valiantly. I saw many enemy bodies around them as they fought, but I am afraid the numbers were too great for there to be any hope that they could hold them off for the length of time it took for us to get here.”
“What does it matter how they fought if they were not victorious?” Cleopatra interjected bitterly.
Antonius spun to face her, his face twisted with what I perceived to be rage and grief.
“What does it matter?” he echoed. “It matters everything, you silly woman! Even when we don't win, it matters to a Roman how we fight!”
Now it was Cleopatra’s turn to go bloodless, stiffening not only from the rebuke, but I imagine from the tone and the fact that it had taken place in front of witnesses.
She managed to maintain her composure, but it was plain to see that it was a struggle.
“I can see that your grief has affected you, husband,” she replied coolly. “Otherwise, I could not imagine you speaking in such a manner to your co-commander, let alone your wife.”
Antonius instantly deflated, his shoulders sagging, and the only reason I did not shake my head in disgust is because it might have drawn Cleopatra’s attention to me.
“You're right, my queen. I shouldn't take my anger out on you.” Antonius turned back to the navarch. “I thank you for your report, even if you don't bring me welcome news. You're dismissed to see to your crew.”
The man stood, saluted Antonius, bowed to Cleopatra, then hurried out, leaving Antonius, Cleopatra, and Canidius standing huddled together, talking in low tones. After conferring a few moments, Antonius turned to address us as we gathered closer. I lingered toward the back of the group, taking care to remain on the edges of the small crowd and out of Cleopatra’s line of vision, though she was looking grimly pleased while Canidius was visibly fuming.
“So there's no point in mounting an attempt to dislodge the enemy,” Antonius announced in a tired voice. “They overwhelmed the men holding the camp there, and no doubt, by this time, have invested the position with more men. Sending the fleet out would expose it to attack from the north and south by Octavian and Agrippa’s remaining fleet. I have no intention of risking the fleet to hold an island that would be under constant attack.”
Now I understood why Canidius was so agitated, especially since I shared his feeling. Again, it seemed to me that Antonius was picking his navy over his army and I knew that the men would feel the same slight when the inevitable word leaked out of what had taken place. It also explained why Cleopatra was standing there looking triumphant, since she had been pushing Antonius to rely on her navy instead of his army. No one dared to protest, not with Cleopatra standing there. Instead, we filed out to return to our respective Legions. Before I could make my escape, however, Antonius called to me. Bracing myself, I turned and marched back to face the general, keeping my eyes on him, not allowing myself to look over at Cleopatra. I could tell her gaze was on me, almost feeling the blasting force of her hatred washing over me, but I managed to maintain my focus on Antonius.
“Yes, general?” I asked as I saluted, which he returned.
“It was your Cohort on the island, wasn't it?”
“Yes, sir, it was. Tertius Pilus Prior Metellus, sir.”
He blinked at the name, clearly struggling to recall the face to put with the name. Then he nodded. “Ah, yes. Short, squatty man, but a good man with a sword, if I remember?”
I was thankful that he did seem to remember Metellus, and I nodded in return.
“Well, I'm sorry that he was lost, but you should be proud that he died fighting so bravely for Rome.”
Before I could answer, Cleopatra’s voice cut through the air as she sniffed, “Brave he might be. I just wish he had fought better. Then perhaps we wouldn't have lost the island.”
I knew that she was baiting me, but it did not make it any easier to endure and I kept my eyes locked on Antonius, it feeling as if my jaw would grind my teeth into powder. His gaze turned sympathetic and he gave an almost imperceptible shrug, but he ignored Cleopatra and I took my cue from him.
“I am proud of him, general. I just wish there was something we could do for all of the men lost today.”
That was as far as I dared to go, but Antonius did not seem to take any offense, reaching out to give me a pat on the shoulder.
“So do I, Pullus. So do I.”
I wanted to scream at him, to grab him and slap some sense into the man, anything to rid him of the numen that Cleopatra had conjured up to take over the man that had been Marcus Antonius, but my courage failed me. I know that it would not have done anything other than get me executed, but it did not make me feel any better. I do not remember the rest of the conversation, such as it was, only taking away the small victory that Cleopatra was unable to provoke me. Returning to the Legion, I prepared myself to tell the men that some of their friends, and in some cases relatives, had in all likelihood been killed or captured, and what was worse, we were going to do nothing to avenge them.
Looking back, I believe that the hands of the gods were busy pulling the strings that control events and thereby indirectly our actions, since I believe that the loss of Metellus and the
Third Cohort set the stage for what was to come later, making my task easier when the time came. Ordering the Legion assembled, I told them of the fight on the island. By this point, most of them had heard rumors to this effect, but this was the first confirmation, and I watched the shock and anguish ripple through the ranks, the faces of the men matching what I was feeling. Scribonius looked particularly sad, because he and Metellus had been almost as close friends as Scribonius and I. There was not much else that I could think to say, so after telling the men, I dismissed them back to their areas, and they shuffled off, talking morosely among themselves. Calling the Centurions to me, I ordered a double wine ration for the evening meal, knowing that it would be needed to dull the pain of what happened. After that, I retired to my quarters, telling Diocles that I did not want to be disturbed, sitting down heavily in the chair behind my desk and putting my head in my hands. It was only then that I began to weep.
The bad news did not stop there and as much of a tragedy as the loss of the Third was to the 10th, what happened next was a catastrophe for the entire army and navy. Agrippa, clearly not wanting to waste the momentum gained from his capture of Leucas, continued sweeping southward and on to Patrae, seizing our supply base. In a stroke, Agrippa cut our lifeline, not only by taking our existing supplies still waiting to be shipped to us from Patrae, but by taking control of the sea route along with it. We now had to rely on everything coming by mule train over a torturous mountain track originating in faraway Thrace. The path where it cut through the mountains of Macedonia was too narrow for wagons, cutting the flow of supplies to a mere trickle. Suddenly our situation was close to desperate, having barely a month’s supply of grain on hand, with perhaps five weeks' worth of chickpeas and other staples. There was no way that our stocks could be replenished or even maintained at their current levels with a plodding train of mules coming in once a day, so Antonius immediately ordered our rations cut to three-quarters. It was a small blessing that we were as inactive as we were, or the reduction would have caused more trouble than it did, yet the men were so lethargic as it was that there was not even much grumbling about it.
