by Peake, R. W.
“Why, Pullus? Is the idea of having Octavian’s cock up your ass too alluring?”
I ignored the insult, looking at him with a mixture of incredulity and scorn.
“Are you seriously asking me why, Antonius? Your wife tried to kill me simply because she couldn’t guard her tongue and made it clear that she intends to have her son sit as king of Rome. And she tried to kill my woman, just because she was in the way. I won't let the 10th contribute to that kind of insanity.”
He slumped over at the reminder of what Cleopatra had done, giving a tired wave of his hand, as if to dismiss all that I had said.
“That was just talk, Pullus. She’s a woman. Women talk, it’s what they do. You don’t think I'd let her do such a thing, do you? As far as that other business, that was regrettable, and I've ordered her to stop in her ridiculous attempt to exact retribution on you.”
He turned eyes drained of rage on me, his gaze tired and sad. I thought I detected a plea for sympathy and help, but too much had happened.
“I don’t think you have any more control over Cleopatra than you do over the tides, Antonius. And you can't win, of that I'm sure. Sosius was right, and so was Canidius.”
“So you're going to be one of Octavian’s lackeys now, is that it?”
“Octavian has nothing to do with this,” I lied. “This has everything to do with the last ten years of following you, with no prospect of it ever ending if we go to Egypt. We're tired, Antonius. And I don’t plan on the 10th being thrown away to advance Cleopatra’s plans.”
“You're a traitor to Rome,” he said coldly. “And I assure you that you'll be punished for this, Pullus.”
“Only if you win,” I shot back, happy to see him flinch. “And I'm so sure that you won’t win that I'm willing to take that risk, for the sake of my men.”
“This has nothing to do with your men,” he sneered. “It has everything to do with being in Octavian’s purse.”
“Believe as you wish, General. It doesn't change the fact that we're not boarding ships and going to Egypt.”
He hissed a curse at me before looking again over his shoulder, but no help was forthcoming. An idea struck me, and I called out.
“As I said, General, you have no control over Cleopatra, and neither do you control the tides. They wait for no man, and if you want to be ready to try and break through Agrippa and Octavian, you need not be wasting time trying to change my mind. The 10th isn't going.”
My hope was that the mention of the tides would break this moment between Antonius and me and I could see his eyes shift seemingly involuntarily towards the bay. Clenching his teeth, he wrenched the horse around, calling over his shoulder that we were not done, then galloped back towards the ships.
I wasted no time, sure that he was going back to try and rally the remaining Legions. While Antonius and I were arguing, Diocles had supervised the Legion slaves who were almost finished packing the baggage back on the mules. It was a haphazard job and would have to be done over, but it was sufficient for our purposes and I gave the order to form a Legion square, with the baggage in the middle. As the men moved into position, I watched Antonius reach Cleopatra, where a wild argument seemed to be raging, both gesticulating furiously, in my direction and at each other. Tribunes were now running back and forth, one going to the Legion that was loading, another to the Legion that I suspected was the 12th. With the men now formed in square, the mules were becoming restive at the tension in the air so I gave the command to march, leading the men towards the bare hilltop. Once we got going, I trotted over to the Centurions of the trailing Cohorts, telling them to keep an eye on what was going on behind us in the event that one or both Legions obeyed orders to chase us down and engage us. We began marching over the broken ground as I called again to Balbus, who trotted over and pointed to the top of the far hill.
“That’s where we’re going, to the high ground there.”
Balbus grinned. “That'll give them something to think about if they want to come get us. But I don’t think they will. They don’t have time.”
“Neither do I,” I agreed. “But we’re going to be prepared nonetheless.”
Telling Balbus to take the lead, I dropped back to the rear of the square, closer to the fleet so that I could watch what was happening. Antonius was conferring with what looked like the Primus Pilus of one of the Legions and I could tell by the size of the man in comparison to Antonius that it had to be Galba of the 19th, one of the other three Legions scheduled to take ship. The fourth Legion, the 22nd, was just marching to the bay, crashing to a halt when one of the Tribunes galloped up to undoubtedly tell the Primus Pilus of the latest developments. That made the Legion standing in place the 12th and I could make out the figure of Balbinus having a spirited conversation with one of the Legates, who continued to point in our direction.
“Primus Pilus, are we really not going to Egypt?”
I was expecting the question, so I turned to address the man who asked, seeing that it was a man from the Fifth Cohort.
“I get seasick on long voyages, Terentius. Didn’t you know that? No, we’re not going to Egypt.”
The man Terentius flushed with pleasure at being recognized, reminding me how it was the little things like the Primus Pilus calling you by name that make men feel a bond to their leaders. My attempt at humor seemed to be appreciated, drawing a hearty round of laughs, followed by a cheer, which I assumed to be for the announcement that we would not be going to Egypt.
I held up a cautioning hand.
“Don’t be so happy, boys. It looks like Antonius isn't going to let us stay without making a fuss about it.”
I pointed to where Galba and the rest of the 19th was falling into formation, while the 12th had already begun to move.
“Let ‘em try, Primus Pilus,” I heard someone shout. “If you tell us we’re going to Hades, we’ll storm the gates and kill anyone who tries to stop us!”
The men around whoever had called out roared their approval and then, despite still marching, some of the men began to tap their javelins against the rims of their shields. Very quickly, this was picked up by other men, until in a matter of a few paces the entire Legion was rapping their javelins in time to the beat of their feet as they marched. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw that the 22nd, which had been diverted to come after us, had stopped dead in their tracks, presumably by the sound. Many an enemy has heard that sound and it always spelled doom for them, so doubtless this was in the minds of the men and Centurions of the 22nd. Antonius was running back and forth between groups of men, waving his arms, then I saw him gallop his horse to the 22nd. We had put a bit of distance between us by this point so I could no longer see gestures, but I imagined that there was a fair bit of pointing and shouting going on. Moving across the rear of the formation while the men continued to march, the slope of the hill was now less than a half-mile away. My purpose in moving was more to have similar exchanges like I had just had with Terentius than for any tactical purpose, and men obliged by calling out their questions, all of them essentially same.
“Are we really not going to Egypt?”
Every time I was asked, I used the same line I had given Terentius, mainly because it was well received, and I wanted the men as relaxed as possible under the circumstances. This was a moment where they needed to see their Primus Pilus in a similar frame of mind, the father figure who was looking out for their best interests and had everything under control. Every trick, everything I had learned during my time in the Legions and as a Centurion I was using now, all in an attempt to assure these men that they were not making a horrible mistake in following me. Things had happened quickly and they had happened that way for a reason, since I was gambling on the force of habit being too strong to overcome when the men were given an order that was contrary to what they were expecting. Also, I did not want to give men time to think; it is when men begin thinking that problems can start. There would be time to explain and for the idea to settle in among them,
yet this was not the time, particularly if we were going to be fighting. And it looked like we would have to, as the 12th Legion continued marching behind us, seemingly in pursuit.
Reaching the base of the hill, the front rank of the square began to climb the slope. Naturally, the speed slowed down, meaning that the 12th started to gain on us, making me worry that they might pull within javelin range before we could get into position. Diocles pulled the baggage train ahead of the front rank, the men moving aside as the mules trotted by. They would be placed on the opposite slope, out of the range of the fighting, because I did not think that Balbinus could afford the time to envelop the whole hill. There was still a larger battle to be fought out on the water and I was sure that Antonius had ordered Balbinus to launch an all-out assault, but I did wonder if he had tried to send the other two and they had refused, or if he believed that just one Legion would be enough. Whatever the case, I was surprised that it was Balbinus, now that I knew for sure that it was he and the 12th, the front ranks closing the distance enough to recognize his face. Obviously, I had been wrong about Balbinus working for Octavian, I thought, as my men reached the top of the hill.
I sent Decimus Silva, the Legion aquilifer, to plant the standard just below the crest on the easternmost point facing downhill, and as he did this, I called the Pili Priores over. Using Silva as the reference point, I indicated the spots where I wanted the other Cohorts to line up. This was the first moment I had with Scribonius and he lingered for a moment, both of us looking down the hill where the 12th had come to a halt.
“I didn’t really think he would come after us.” Scribonius was looking down at the 12th, while I looked past them towards the ships, which were visible, while individuals were barely distinguishable. Yet another Legion had left the camp and I worried that Antonius had sent for them. If they were an Eastern Legion, I suspected that they would not hesitate to do as he ordered.
“Neither did I, but here we are,” I admitted.
We turned to face each other, then he smiled as he offered his hand.
“May the gods protect you, Titus.”
“And you, Sextus.”
With that, we both turned to head to our respective spots in the formation to wait what was to happen. It puzzled me that the 12th had made no move to begin the assault, and I was beginning to feel that the reason had to be to wait for the other Legion leaving the camp. However, as I watched, the Legion on the march out of the camp turned to head for the bay, convincing me that they were going to replace the 10th on the ships. The two Legions that had stayed behind, the 19th and 22nd, were in various stages of loading on their assigned ships. By this time, the sun was now well clear of the eastern hills, the tide was running out, and Antonius could wait no longer. Some ships were already moving, weighing anchor, their oars beginning to sweep them ponderously towards the entrance to the bay. The squadron of ships that had been guarding the mouth was moved out a short distance, apparently waiting for the rest of the fleet to join them, while the fleet of Octavian and Agrippa was moving from their anchorage farther north. Occupied as I was with these sights, it was not until Lutatius called to me that I turned my attention back down the hill. The 12th had still not moved, but a man wearing the transverse crest was walking up the hill towards us, his hands empty and out to his sides. It was Balbinus and once he was out of his men’s javelin range, I walked down to meet him. I assumed that this was one last attempt to try to change my mind, and I thought that it must have been on Balbinus’ own initiative because I could not see Antonius doing such a thing, or delegating it to another Primus Pilus. But it was a day of surprises, and this was just the latest one.
“If you're here to try to make one last attempt to change my mind before you try and take us, you’re wasting your breath.”
I was not speaking in a rude tone of voice, but I did not want to waste time in useless talk. Balbinus was standing a few feet away; he stared at me for moment, before he burst out laughing. I tried to cover up my confusion, this not at all what I was expecting.
“Don’t worry, Pullus, I won’t try and change your mind. You can be sure of that. I actually am here to join you.”
Now it was my turn to stare, sure that this was some sort of ruse. Taking a careful look over his shoulder, I saw that his men had grounded their gear and were standing there, not looking the least bit interested in charging up the hill.
“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
“What do you think? You're not the only one who works for Octavian. I must confess when I was told that there would be at least one other Primus Pilus involved, I didn't suspect that it was you.”
I bristled at the suggestion that I was working for Octavian, despite the reality that is exactly what I was doing.
“I owe Octavian a debt, that’s true. But I'm not his agent, and I would have refused to let my men board even if I didn't owe him.”
Balbinus just shrugged.
“If you say so,” he replied, his tone clearly implying he did not believe me.
I opened my mouth to argue the point before thinking better of it.
Instead, I asked, “What did you tell Antonius?”
He looked away, refusing to meet my eyes, although I could see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Nothing actually. He sent me after you, that’s true enough. I just didn’t tell him that I wasn’t going to do what he wanted me to do when we caught up to you.”
My mouth dropped open, then I looked again over his shoulder, first at the bay, then at the camp, half-expecting to see a line of Legions marching in our direction. However, the loading process was still taking place, with the newly arrived Legion clearly about to do the same. No Legions were leaving the camp either, which was a good thing.
“He must be figuring it out now,” I said.
Balbinus turned to look back at the bay as well, then shook his head. “Even if he does, he won’t have the time or the men to do anything about it.”
“How can you be so sure he won’t send for Canidius and have him send the rest of the army after us?”
He turned to give me a long look, then said, “I don’t think Canidius is going to find the men very willing to come after a couple of veteran Legions.”
Balbinus said this with an assurance that convinced me that he knew something that I did not, but I decided not to press the matter. I was certain that he was telling the truth and I felt better that my suspicions about Balbinus had turned out to be justified. I also suspected that he was right, yet I resolved to keep the men ready until I was sure.
Pointing to the spot where the 10th was standing, I said, “You can take our spot and we’ll move to the west side of the hill.”
“That means you’ll have a better view of the fighting,” he protested, but I just grinned at him.
“We were here first.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, and for the men, we clasped arms, then embraced.
Cheers erupted from both Legions when they realized that there would be no fight, at least between us.
Our viewpoint on the hill was perfect for watching the coming battle and after we rearranged ourselves, I allowed the men to sit in place. Deciding that it was time to address the Legion, I walked to the crest of the hill, using a pile of baggage as a makeshift rostrum that I stood on so that I was visible to all. The men turned about, and it was one of the few times I did not have to call for silence. Looking down into their upturned faces, the questions and apprehension were written plainly for me to see. The Centurions with the Cohorts in the middle of the Legion stood so that they could relay my words back to the rest of the men. Once they signaled they were ready, I began.
“Most of you by now have figured out that we're not going to Egypt. Some of your slower-witted comrades may not have at this point, so I'll give you a moment to turn to explain to them that we're indeed sitting on a hill and not on a ship.”
This brought the roar of laughter I had hoped for, the men making a great
show of turning to one of their friends to explain that fact, prompting more than one punch or shove from the offended party. Letting this continue for a few moments, finally I raised my hand, the men falling immediately silent. Turning serious, I continued.
“I suppose I should say that this wasn't an easy decision to make, but the truth is, comrades, that it was exceedingly easy. We've marched for Antonius for many years now, and we've all seen that the Marcus Antonius we knew is gone, replaced by a minion that's a slave to the bidding of Cleopatra.”
The men responded positively, nodding their heads or clapping their hands to show their agreement.
“And make no mistake about it. Cleopatra wants nothing less than the destruction of Rome, and she'll stop at nothing to achieve her goal. She'd use the 10th, she'd use each and every one of us,” I swept my arm across the ranks to emphasize the point, “to help her bring Rome to her knees. Our beloved city, our beloved republic! And when she was through with us, she'd send us off without a single sesterce or acre of land to show for all that we've done. That's exactly what she'd do, because that's the Egyptian way. Brothers, I've served in Egypt. I know how the soldiers of Egypt are treated. They're not given any land; they're not given any bonuses in recognition for all that they've sacrificed when their service is done, because their service is never done! They march under their standards until they can no longer hoist a shield or wield a sword, then they're cast aside to beg in the streets for crusts of bread. If Cleopatra did that to her own people, how do you think she'll treat you?”
