by C K Ruppelt
Nico put his hand on his brother’s shoulder in gratitude. As they approached, seven of his young nieces and nephews came running at them from the house, chasing each other, laughing and screaming. Nico smiled and relaxed. For now, he would simply enjoy being at home, surrounded by friendly faces.
692 AUC (62 BC), fall
Rome, Italia, Capital of the Roman Republic
Caesar looked from Marcus Licinius Crassus, sitting next to him, to the new arrival that had just been brought to his study. He dismissed his majordomo and his six official Senate bodyguards given to him when he started as praetor. The target of his gaze, young Publius Claudius Pulcher, was a very recent political ally, and the newly appointed leader of the Populares faction’s gang of brawlers. The man’s style was flawless, with his dark-blonde hair coiffed in fine waves, perfectly plucked eyebrows and blackened eyelashes. The toga he wore somehow shined, the fold was immaculate down to every crease. Caesar cared about his own looks, but he knew that he and Crassus were amateurs in comparison.
“Publius sit down. Let’s discuss what needs to be done next,” he said.
Claudius Pulcher took the chair opposite Caesar, nodding to Crassus while sitting down. “Gaius, Marcus, I’m still a free man thanks to both of you. Without your help last week at the trial, Cicero would have eaten me alive. I just wanted you to know that I am aware of how deeply I am in your debt. I will stick with you and the Populares as far as we can go. Caesar, I still cannot thank you enough, considering...”
“That it was my house and my wife? With both my mother and sister present?” Caesar cut in. “I do hope you will never forget my leniency in the matter and that your support will pay me back tenfold in years to come.” He made a show of moving his face close to a small vase of white roses on the desk, smelling their sweet scent.
Pulcher was a man of huge appetites and well known for his public sexual escapades with both men and women, and his love for violence. His latest vice was a seemingly unlimited hatred for his former ally Marcus Tullius Cicero. Claudius Pulcher had loyally supported Cicero and the Boni of the Optimates faction for years, until Cicero backstabbed him as prosecutor for the Bona Dea scandal. Pulcher had stood accused of entering the most important religious women-only rites for reasons of sexual conquest. The Bona Dea festivities were held in the residence of Pontifex Maximus Caesar and led by his own mother and wife.
“Cicero didn’t dare mention my wife as your target. Focusing instead on intended incest with your sister was too much for the court to believe,” Caesar added.
“I am very sad I caused you to divorce Pompeia last week. I want to repeat that she knew nothing of my intentions, and that she would have likely denied my advances.”
“Don’t worry too much about that. You might have done me a favor there.” His marriage to Pompeia had been one of convenience. Attractive, of ancient lineage and a granddaughter of Sulla, she had seemed like the perfect match after Cornelia’s passing. The union had worked well to stop many of Sulla’s old allies from shaking their fists at him.
Love, however, had never entered their relationship. “I told the Senate that Pompeia never had, nor ever would commit infidelity. When some of the senators asked me why I had divorced her, I told them that a wife of Caesar always needs to be above suspicion.” His comment had resulted in many chuckles and some outright laughter. He knew he had a reputation as a womanizer. “Anyway, it was Marcus’ money that saved you. My words might have helped, but ultimately it came down to him buying the jury.”
Now he looked at Crassus, his other ally. “And speaking of thanks. You will always have my eternal gratitude for helping me finance my elections as Pontifex Maximus and praetor this year. Without your deep coffers neither of us would be here.” Caesar grinned. “Especially considering that one of our esteemed consuls has publicly condemned me for my unsanctioned action against the pirates these many years ago. Silanus ended up throwing a lot of money at the opposition.” Decimus Junius Silanus had not forgiven him for going against his brother Marcus when the man had been governor of Asia province during Caesar’s capture by pirates and the resulting aftermath.
He looked back at Pulcher. “But you have to promise to say nothing to anybody about Crassus’ involvement, you hear me? The longer it will take the Optimates to figure out that he’s no longer in their camp, the better.”
“Of course, I understand. That goes without saying.”
“Good. Now it’s time to work towards our bigger goals. Marcus and I want you to use the Populares legionary veterans as a nucleus for a much bigger fighting force. Most of Sulla’s old veterans have left the Optimates brawlers, and to make up for it they have brought in hordes of slaves. They gave them bludgeons in exchange for eventual freedom and money and sent them to stand against our streetfighters. No real threat so far, but I’ve heard they were extending the same offers to gladiators. That means it will be harder to keep the upper hand. Are you up for that, Publius?”
He received a decisive nod. “Absolutely, we’ll show them who rules the streets,” Pulcher responded with a predatorial grin. Street brawling was the man’s favorite pastime.
“Good. My goal is to ask the Senate to give me a Hispania province for next year when I am propraetor. I may need help from you and the men to cower the opposition.” He did not expect smooth sailing.
“Alright, you know what’s needed.” Caesar handed him a long papyrus roll. “Here are all the names of the veterans that have shown special loyalty. Please check in again in a few days and let me know if you need anything else.” Caesar grasped Pulcher’s arm to say good-bye and watched him leave.
“What’s in it for him? I mean, what does Claudius Pulcher want next?” Crassus asked after he was gone.
“He wants revenge on Cicero, pure and simple. It’s all he can think about right now, and that’s why he threw in with us and the Populares.”
Crassus laughed. “Revenge? Well, we can certainly work with that. That means Claudius will give it his all when it comes to blocking Cicero and friends in the Senate.” He looked back at Caesar, and they shared vicious grins.
“Our glorious plans are unfolding nicely.” Caesar stood up and walked to the doorway. “Bring us some wine!” He turned back to Crassus. “Let’s toast to our success, current and future.”
693 AUC (61 BC), early spring
Corduba, Capital of Roman Province Hispania Ulterior
“I am glad you could join me here so quickly,” Caesar told his young friend Aulus Hirtius walking beside him in the midst of his six lictors. It had become normal for him over the last year to have body guards around, and most had become trusted friends.
It was a cool spring morning and Caesar tightened his comfortable purple-striped senatorial toga against the chill as they walked the narrow streets of the provincial capital to the governor’s mansion. They would have plenty of time to wear armor later, no need to cut out the small niceties just yet.
“Especially considering my rather hasty departure,” he continued. He had needed to leave Rome before his official service time as praetor was over. One of his less savory creditors had lost patience with him, threatening to sue for payment the moment his immunity as a public official within Roman city limits was over. Caesar excused his illegal behavior with false news of calls for help from Roman allies in Hispania. Crassus stepping in at the last minute as guarantor for a portion of the debt had helped, but his financial situation was still disastrous.
“I believe you know I am well and truly beyond bankrupt. My debt was still manageable even when I became Aedile of Rome four years ago.” He had used that position to build a broad platform of public support. The two aedile city magistrates were responsible for upkeep of roads, temples, public buildings, and grain and food for the masses. Most important, though, was the organization of gladiatorial games. “But when I financed the games without my co-Aedile Marcus Bibulus, it got out of control.”
Hirtius laughed. “You certainly gained the adorat
ion of the masses for breaking the old record of gladiators in a single season, but did you have to bring in a full three hundred and twenty pairs of them?”
With a small budget allotted from the Senate, Caesar’s resulting personal debt load had been crushing. “You should know by now that I don’t do things halfway. That includes my campaign to be elected praetor for last year.” That had added significantly to his already lofty tally.
“Now we are here, and I hope you will get the chance to make some money. I will help any way I can, you know you are like family to me,” Hirtius paused as they walked by a throng of traders moving to the market. “At least get Papirius off your back. That man is insufferable, you should never have asked him for help.”
They walked up to their offices. “I was desperate, as you well know. Can you please bring Gaius Antistius Vetus into my office?”
Vetus was his officially-assigned quaestor for the year and had just arrived in Corduba. He wanted to review all financial documentation, all official missives and communications for local and Hispania-wide issues, as well as everything pertaining to current legal matters. Hopefully he would find something, anything he could use as an excuse for military action in or around his province. With a pang of guilt for throwing out his moral values, he motioned young Vetus into his office. “Come in, come in! I hope you had breakfast and a good night’s sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.”
***
The morning of the next day, Caesar felt tired and sullen. He had wrestled with his conscience for most of the night. In the end, my need for money overrides any other concerns.
“Ah, good morning,” he greeted Hirtius in his office. “Let’s go through what we need to do today. First, we’ll write official dispatches to the Senate to tell them that there’s public unrest in both Lusitani and Callaeci lands, and that the nations there are getting close to open rebellion. Second, we’ll ask for names of local magistrates and business men we can strong-arm into corroborating our story. We need them to send their own messages to various Roman senators.”
“Rome fought the Lusitani a few times before, right? Are they still a worthwhile target for us?” Hirtius asked.
“We fought them in the decades leading up to the second Punic war, which is close to a hundred years ago. Then, a second time after Proconsul Sertorius rallied them after he fled from Sulla. Winning against Sertorius’ successor was what cemented the rising star of Gnaeus Pompeius by the way and helped him become the current thorn in Crassus side. If you consider that the Lusitani and their northern neighbors, the Callaeci, were left in charge and regularly paid their hefty tribute to Rome, then yes, I believe there is much to gain here.” Caesar stood up and closed the door to his office. “I should have done that earlier. So, here are my plans. I will take the Eighth and Ninth legions westward past the borders of Hispania Ulterior, towards the free tribes of the Celtici and Cunei. Before we leave, I will send word to the new governor of Hispania Citerior, asking for the Seventh to march towards Lusitania. I made an arrangement with him to borrow the legion, let’s hope that he honors it. The trickiest part of all these plans is the time constraint. To wrap up any action against the Lusitani and the Callaeci in the single year we have will be very tight, even after adding the Seventh to our Eighth and Ninth legions.” His face relaxed and he grinned at his old friend. Hirtius was hanging on his every word. “As a propraetor, I am entitled to recruit new legions when the need arises. That need has now arisen. I want you to organize the recruitment for a tenth legion, the next available number.”
“A tenth legion? Has Rome ever had a Tenth?” Hirtius interrupted.
“No, it’s the first time we’re past the Ninth. We’re making history.” Hirtius grinned right back at him, and they shared the moment. “For recruiting, I want you to focus on local Roman and Italian colony towns first, to speed up the process. I can send word back to Rome to raise a few Italian cohorts, but they wouldn’t be able to join the new Tenth for a few months.”
They both stood up and headed towards the door. “I can’t wait to get started. All the Roman towns to visit are already popping into my head. I need to get back to my desk to write it all down,” Hirtius replied. They grasped hands.
“Make a list of the staff you want for the recruitment process, and we’ll meet again tomorrow to talk about the budget.” Caesar’s eyes stayed on his excited friend as he walked out the office and down the hallway.
693 AUC (61 BC), spring
Scalabis, Roman Headquarter for Lusitania, Hispania
“Aulus Hirtius! It is good to have you back,” Caesar called out to the man entering his tent. They moved close enough to clasp arms.
“I just collected the last of the local new recruits,” Hirtius explained. “I brought a total of six cohorts, including a half-strength first cohort. That’s all we’ll have until the men from Italia show up later in the year.” Caesar saw his friend’s expression change from his usual self-assuredness to something resembling uncertainty. “I had hoped to be here at least three days earlier, but one of our new centurions was overeager with the very last squads and their final test. He had them start the obligatory march, you know, twenty-four Roman miles loaded with forty-five pounds of extra gear, in full sunshine on a scorching hot day. That by itself was fine, but he decided to forgo any of the usual water breaks. By the end of the day, close to half of the boys had dropped along the way, and to add insult to injury, he wanted to wash them all out. After we rushed them all through basic training. That idiot!”
“So, what did you do?” Caesar asked with a flat face.
“I told him he was demoted back to decanus. He started to protest and I shut him up by stating that if he’s not happy about it, I’d gladly recommend a dishonorable dismissal for him.”
Caesar saw his friend’s questioning glance. He held back his approval as long as he could, keeping his face stony before bursting out in laughter. “Oh, thank you. Once again you show me what a good and capable friend you are.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come over to the table with me and let me bring you up to speed with what has happened so far.”
After sitting down, Caesar continued. “As you know I marched the Eighth and Ninth out to the territories of the Celtici and Cunei. Both of these peoples are Celtic and had no love for the Lusitani. We were welcomed with open arms, at least until I met with their leaders and told them of the new and favorable terms they could expect as direct subjects of the Senate and People of Rome,” Caesar paused dramatically.
“They did not like the terms?” Hirtius inquired.
“The terms were not the problem. Some of the older chieftains were afraid what the Lusitani would do to them, not believing me when I told them there was nothing to be worried about on that account. So, I decided to approach some of the more eager, younger chiefs in private and they listened. We have treaties with both tribes now, and they made a show of good faith. I received many personal gifts, both valuable goods and gold, and some of the loudest older chieftains aren’t in power anymore.” He grinned. “It’s a good start to pay off some of my debt. I sent it all back under guard to the Governor’s palace in Corduba. I’ll ship it home when I come through there again on my way to Rome.”
“That’s good news, and now we’re here at Scalabis with the Eighth and Ninth legions, and most of the new Tenth, right at the border of the Lusitani heartland,” Hirtius added.
“And the Seventh is close, following the Tagus river across Hispania.” Caesar paused, adding a dramatic sigh. “I had reports yesterday that all Roman traders have been banned from Lusitanian towns. That means the easy part is over. The Lusitani won’t be push-overs. I can’t help but feel bad over what we’re about to do to them.”
“You need to do whatever is needed. You need the money, it’s a question of survival. It shouldn’t escalate too badly if we hit them before they can combine forces against us.”
“I hope so. I already sent out cavalry and scouts towards the Seventh. Onc
e they meet up, we will start to roll up the clans and their fortified hill towns one by one.”
693 AUC (61 BC), early summer
Along the banks of the Tagus river in Lusitania, Hispania
The Ninth had received a sizable contingent of fresh horses, and the Cretan auxiliary unit had changed from a mix of foot and horse to exclusively mounted. Nico, now nineteen, was part of a combined group under the leadership of Quintus Titurius Sabinus, the cavalry prefect of the Ninth. The group consisted of some of the legions’ Celtic cavalry, Roman equites scouts and all the Ninth’s Cretan archers.
He rode up to Andrippos, first decurion of the Cretans, as they came over the ridge of a hill just north of the Tagus river. “What exactly is our mission, oh fearless leader?” The man had always been friendly to him, so he felt at ease asking. They had not been given any details since their morning call to ride out.
“Ah young Nico. Sorry about keeping all of you in the dark, but we had orders to keep quiet while in camp. Our commanders didn’t want the legions to talk about it where it could be overheard by the wrong set of ears.” He cleared his throat. “Our mission is to watch for any movement of the Lusitanian tribes along the Tagus river, while making our way to a meet with the Seventh legion, which is marching to Lusitania along the embankments from the other side of Hispania. We will continue to leave a few men to scout any of the major tribes, just like we did this early afternoon when we moved through the land of the Elbocori. They will report back to Scalabis if there is any change, otherwise they’ll wait until the legions march out.”
“Do you know what the next people are called?” Nico asked in curiosity.
