by Peake, R. W.
“Primus Pilus, we appreciate what you say, but we have concerns about what you propose. We're all loyal Romans, as are you. We just don’t know if what you're suggesting will work. What if the Triumvir and the queen order the rest of the army to strike us down? We would lose everything, including our lives, and have nothing to show for it. It seems that there should be some extra profit for us if we're going to take this huge risk.”
He licked his lips, eyes shifting nervously about as I stood staring at him. I should have known that there would be someone like Sacrovir who would try to squeeze something out of this. What troubled me is that it looked like were at least 40 men who either thought the same way, or had some other objection that I had yet to hear. Keenly aware as I was that time was running short, if I had to convince the rest of these men individually, the plan was doomed to fail.
Not wanting to waste any more time on Sacrovir than I had to, I asked him coldly, “What do you want, Sacrovir? Name your price.”
He blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback that I had put matters so bluntly. I saw men on both sides eying Sacrovir with outright hostility and it relieved me to see that most of the men remaining to commit seemed displeased at Sacrovir’s blatant attempt to squeeze me.
“Primus Pilus, you misunderstand me,” he began, but I cut him off before he could say more.
“It seems that this is the second time I've misunderstood you, Sacrovir. The last time I misunderstood you was when you were part of a mutiny of the Ninth. I'm surprised that now you seem reluctant to do something you’ve already attempted to do once before.”
Even in the dim light, I could see his face flush as he opened his mouth to protest. Again, before he could speak, he was interrupted, but this time it was by Vibius Pacuvius, the Hastatus Posterior of the Eighth and one of the remaining holdouts.
“Primus Pilus, I don’t want you to think that Sacrovir speaks for me, because he doesn’t. My hesitation is not to try and get a few coins or a promotion.” His mouth twisted into a sneer, his voice dripping with contempt as he looked over at Sacrovir. “It’s just that some of us don’t trust Octavian any more than we trust Antonius. We haven't been around him much and when we were at Philippi, we didn’t much like what we saw. He may be Caesar in name, but he's not Caesar, at least from what we've seen of him. That's the reason I'm concerned, and I think I speak for most of the men still standing here.”
Pacuvius looked over his shoulder at the others, but they were already nodding or speaking their agreement. Suddenly, I did not feel quite so bad, since I was on firmer ground knowing where things stood.
“That's fair, Pacuvius. Here's what I can tell you. I do know Octavian, not that well, but I believe well enough that I can put some of your fears to rest. No, he's not Caesar, at least when it comes to the battlefield, but in other ways, he's very much like Divus Julius. He's as brilliant at organization as Caesar, and I believe that this is an important trait to have in what's to come. He's also much like Caesar in his political views, and more importantly in recognizing that things need to be changed for the lower classes.”
While I talked, the slightly better feeling that had been developing evaporated as I saw men shifting about, their eyes wandering, their fingers tapping against forearms, all the signs that they were losing interest. Immediately, I realized that I had been talking about ideals, high-flown and not concerned with the things that Centurions of Rome particularly cared about. My mind raced, trying to think of one thing I could communicate to these men about Octavian that would strike home.
“He saved me from being executed by Lepidus,” I blurted out. “I know you all remember when we were on the Campus Martius, and we lost Tetarfenus because he avenged the death of his men.” The men were paying attention again, indicating that they indeed remembered that drama by nodding their heads or muttering their assent. “Well, it was Octavian who directly interceded with Lepidus and stopped him from having me tried and probably executed for dereliction of duty. He told me at the time that he couldn't afford to lose a Centurion, let alone a Primus Pilus.”
Octavian had said no such thing, but I reasoned that it was worth telling a small lie at a moment like this. Tale it may have been, it nevertheless made the impression I had hoped; men looked at each other, talking quietly among themselves.
I was not out of danger yet, because Servius Varro, the Princeps Prior of the Tenth said bitterly, “But that didn’t save Tetarfenus, did it?”
Recalling that Varro and Tetarfenus had been close friends, I cursed my oversight in bringing up the name of a man still mourned by his comrades.
“Tetarfenus was a dead man no matter what,” I replied firmly, and in this, I was telling the truth. “He disobeyed regulations and killed other Legionaries without benefit of trial. His fate was sealed when he did that.”
Varro did not like my words, though at this point I was not worrying about him as much as the others and I was relieved to see that they clearly accepted this as truth. Pacuvius, the man who had asked the question, was the first man of the remaining holdouts to step forward, stopping in front of me, looking up into my eyes.
“Very well, Primus Pilus. You can count on me and the men of my Century to follow you, wherever you order us to go. I trust you and know you wouldn't be doing this unless you thought it the right and only thing to do.”
Pacuvius saluted, the first and only man to do so, which I returned, the weakness in my knees threatening to make them buckle. The rest of the men quickly followed, leaving Sacrovir standing for a moment by himself before he quickly joined the rest of the men. As he tried to lose himself in the crowd, I saw him shoot me a poisonous look, his lips curled back in a grimace of hatred and anger at being thwarted. That was a matter I would have to attend to sooner rather than later, I thought to myself, but I was not quite through with this ordeal. Stepping to the side so that I could face the men again, my throat was tight with emotion and relief, making my next words sound as if I had been yelling.
“There are no words I can summon that would convey the gratitude for the loyalty you're showing me, but I swear to you on Jupiter’s Stone that I won't let you, and the men you lead, down, or I'll die in the attempt. Now, I must ask for an oath from each of you. I trust you men with my life, but I'd also remind you that you now are trusting each other with your own lives as well. For if any of you make a careless remark in the next few thirds of a watch, and the wrong ears hear it, there will be a bloodletting the likes of which we have never seen before. So I'm asking you to swear that none of you will whisper a word of what has transpired to any of the men, or to any of your friends in other Legions. Nobody must know of what we are going to do and that includes your slaves. Is that understood?” I saw heads nodding, but I was not satisfied. “As each of you leave, I'm going to offer my hand to you, in a gesture of both brotherhood and as a symbol of the oath I'm asking you to take. With this oath, you're pledging on your honor that you'll say nothing, to anyone. Is that agreed?”
Naturally, Scribonius was first and I felt a little foolish clasping his arm, but he uttered his oath to me just the same, winking at me before stepping to the side. One by one, each man stepped forward, clasping my arm, some of the hands firm and dry, others cold and clammy, yet every man looked me in the eye, and I did not get the sense that any of them were lying to me. This took several moments, most of the men milling about when they were finished so that a crowd formed around me, making it somewhat confusing. I imagine that is what encouraged Sacrovir to slip by without taking the oath, something I missed entirely. However, Macrianus did not.
Quietly ordering the men to disperse, I advised them to take different paths back to the Legion area, while I stayed behind with Scribonius, Balbus, and Macrianus. It took a few moments for the others to disappear, during which I felt my heart start to slow and the shaking gradually stop. My tunic was drenched under my armor, the dampness and cooler temperature of the pre-dawn chilling me, but I shook it off. There were other things to wor
ry about.
“Now we’ll see if they all live up to their oaths,” I said this more to myself than to the others.
“They will.”
Scribonius sounded confident. I wondered if he was being sincere or just trying to make me feel better.
“I know one who won’t.”
I looked sharply at Macrianus, he being the one who had uttered the words. That is when he relayed what he had seen Sacrovir do, slipping out without taking the oath. Hissing a curse, despite not really being surprised, I spat onto the ground as I considered what to do.
“We’re going to have to stop him,” Balbus said grimly. “We can’t wait.”
“Balbus is right.” Scribonius rubbed his chin. “I seriously doubt he'll go straight to the Praetorium. Too many men heard him try to extort you and they'll be watching him. He'll go back to his area, then try and slip away.”
“I'll take care of it,” Macrianus said, surprising all of us. I looked at him closely, but he only shrugged. “I’m in this up to my eyeballs already. My neck is on the block just like yours.”
While I appreciated the sentiment, I could not allow this.
“No, none of you are going to do anything. I'll deal with this myself.”
“What are you going to do? Just walk up and gut him? He'll see you coming long before you can reach him.” Balbus asked the question, and it was a valid one.
Still, I was not willing to delegate this task.
“Don’t worry about that,” I told him. “I'll deal with it.”
He just shrugged then, and repeating my own gesture, spat on the ground to show his disapproval.
“Suit yourself,” he said flatly.
Beginning my walk back towards the Legion area, the others followed a few paces behind. Sticking to the shadows, we slipped around the Praetorium, avoiding detection. Immediately after getting back to our area, the others departed, with the agreement that we would meet back up in the third of a watch before dawn. That gave me barely two parts of a watch so I hurriedly stripped off my armor and sodden tunic, fighting the shivering from the cold as I rubbed myself dry. There was no need for my armor for what I was about to do; I needed to be able to move quickly and quietly, without any hindrance. Calling Diocles, I told him to bring me some charcoal. He eyed me curiously but said nothing, returning shortly with a lump. Rubbing the charcoal all over the exposed parts of my body, I did not stop until I was sure that the only thing that would be visible in the night would be the whites of my eyes and teeth. Keeping my belt on, I hung only my dagger, after testing its edge to make sure it was still sharp. Preparations done, I had Diocles extinguish all the lamps in the tent, waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, then slipped out, moving quickly but silently around the corner, then across the Legion street behind my tent. Breathing through my mouth so that it hung open slightly, which helps one hear better at night, I lifted my feet carefully in order to avoid the stakes and guy ropes that litter the ground in the space between tents. I could have made my way to Sacrovir’s tent blindfolded, since it was in the exact same place in every camp, just as mine was, along with every section of the Legion for that matter. I was going to come up behind his tent, which he shared with the Century cornicen, tesseraurius and signifer, one of the few options given to men of this rank being whether they shared a larger tent, or had one to themselves that was smaller. My experience and observation over the years had been that it seemed that most of those men who were sharp operators chose to have companionship. Why this is, I have no idea, although I suspect that it comes from a desire to build a confederation of like-minded men who will do your bidding. Perhaps my perception is colored by the memory of Sacrovir on this night.
Reaching his tent, I squatted down, cocking my ear to listen for sounds that might tell me what was happening inside, somewhat expecting to hear talking since I did not believe that Sacrovir would be able to keep his mouth shut and would be telling his tentmates of all that had transpired. Instead, I heard the sounds of gentle snoring coming from at least two men. After straining my ears, I thought I detected the breathing of a third man that suggested that he was sleeping as well. Those were the only three that I heard; my heart pounded even faster, assailed by the fear that Sacrovir had already left the tent, or worse, not ever returned. Raising myself to a half-crouch, I tried to decide what to do. Certainly I did not want to head towards the Praetorium for a number of reasons, not least of which was that the threat of discovery was dramatically increased. The fact that I was covered head to foot in charcoal and armed with a dagger would be impossible to explain away, should I be caught. Still, if Sacrovir was not in his tent, it would seem I had no other choice, so I began to move slowly away from the back of the tent. Just then, I heard a stirring from inside and I froze in place, waiting for an eternity. At last, there was the rustle of the tent flap being pushed aside, as a dark figure emerged from the tent. Instantly I could see by the shape of the shadow that it was Sacrovir; somehow I had not detected his presence inside earlier. Giving a silent prayer of thanks that he had appeared and that he was alone, I waited a moment for him to pick a direction in which to head towards the Praetorium. It relieved me to see that he was not taking the most direct route, giving me more time to stalk him, waiting until he was almost out of sight before setting off after him. Taking care to stick to the darkest parts of the path, I stopped when he stopped, which he did often, peering about in the darkness to see if he was detected. Once we were a short distance away from his tent, I rushed forward a few steps, closing the gap between us. Evidently, he heard something, freezing in place and I could dimly make out the lighter blur of his face turning in my direction. Pressing hard against the side of a tent, I tried to control my breathing to make as little noise as possible, although it still sounded incredibly loud to my own ears. However, Sacrovir seemed to be satisfied, turning about to continue on his way and I moved with him, using my longer legs to reduce the distance even more, closing now to just a matter of a few quick long strides away from him. He turned in the direction of the Praetorium, meaning it was time to strike, so I waited as he paused one more time, and I thought I detected the sound of his muttering something under his breath while he looked carefully about. Sacrovir did not move for several moments, then turned to stare right at me, or at least where I was crouched, my side brushing the wall of a tent, where I heard men snoring soundly. I was sure that he had seen me, his neck craning as his eyes bored into the spot I was occupying and I was close enough that I could see him shake his head, muttering again before turning to resume his journey. Fighting the urge to let out an explosive sigh of relief, I stood back up while shaking the feeling back into my legs.
Sacrovir had gone a few paces before I moved again, but this time I did not go slowly. Using my longer stride, I covered the ground between us quickly, picking up my feet to avoid making a sound or tripping. When I was just a pace away, Sacrovir sensed something and began to turn, his hand going down to his own dagger, but it was too late and I was too strong. Using my left hand, I clapped it over his mouth to grasp his jaws with all my strength, forcing his head to face directly away from me. In the same motion, I brought my dagger up to shoulder level, pulling my arm all the way back as I did, then drove the point straight into the base of his skull. The sound of the metal grating on the bone of his neck seemed loud enough to wake the dead as the point punched through and into his brain, though I knew that it was only in my imagination. His body stiffened, every muscle seeming to go rigid for just an instant before his body then reacted as if all the bones had magically disintegrated and he collapsed, forcing me downward while I shifted my balance to compensate for the weight. Twisting the blade free, I felt the warm blood and gore pulse onto my hand, his heart continuing to pump for a few moments. Letting him fall gently to the ground, I was careful not to make any noise, then wiped my blade on his tunic before sheathing it. Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes staring up at me, wide in the surprise he felt, the last emotion he exp
erienced before I ended his life. His mouth hung open, his tongue hanging out to the side, and I smelled the blood pooling in it from where the point of my blade had punched through.
“That was a better death than you deserved,” I whispered to him, then picked him up, slinging him over my shoulder.
I had only solved part of the problem; now I had to decide what to do with his body. Moving quietly, his weight threw me off a bit, making things more awkward, but I managed to avoid tripping over anything in my path while I made my way back to the Legion area. Throwing him over the wall would be tricky; I judged the risk of being discovered to be too great. I could deposit him in a corner of the stables then cover him over with hay, but that would mean that I would have to sneak by the Praetorium one more time, so I discarded that as well. Then I was struck by an idea that was as absurd as any that I had ever had before, and I had to fight the urge to keep from laughing. However, the more I thought about it, I realized that it was not such a bad idea after all, so I headed back to my tent.
