by C K Ruppelt
“They are called the Tapori. After that we’ll be in the lands of the Igaeditani, followed by the Celtic federations of the Calontienses and Caluri, those are both part of the Vettones people, supposedly not related to the Lusitani,” Andrippos answered. He raised his right hand to ward off more questions. “Besides hearing their names in the briefing this morning, I know nothing about them,” he continued while chuckling.
Though the Lusitani were people proud of some ancient heritage supposedly unrelated to the Celts, from what Nico could tell the differences seemed superficial. As they rode by several villages, he saw slightly darker hair and complexion, and many of their men favored a longer hair style. Though he also saw fewer women warriors, possibly indicating less cultural equality.
“After we meet the Seventh legion and hand over Caesar’s orders to its legate, I will lead our Ninth’s turmae back to the Igaeditani to wait there for the Ninth to catch up with us. As I understand it, all four legions are supposed to head north in parallel, with the Tenth closest to the coast, followed by our Ninth, and the Eighth and Seventh farther inland. I guess going separate is supposed to speed things up. I just hope the legions can move quickly to help each other if things get chancy.”
Nico looked at his pondering superior and saw real worry. All he had known so far was the seemingly unbeatable discipline and strategy of the Roman legions and the legionaries’ boasting of a long list of glorious Roman victories, though he knew there must have been a few disasters as well. He hoped the Ninth would continue the list of victories.
He could see Quintus Titurius Sabinus up ahead raising his hand and calling for a short break. Some of the scouts moved out to keep watch, while everybody else dismounted, tying the horses to hedges at the edge of a small stand of trees. Most of the Cretans sat down together on a few big rocks in the middle of a field of wild flowers. Nico and Andrippos walked over to join them.
“As far as I can tell, everything hinges on what kind of man our new governor is. We all swore loyalty to him, but who is he? Have you met Caesar?” Nico asked.
“Yes, I have met him in meetings, though only twice, and I didn’t get to talk to him directly. Everything I know is second-hand.” Andrippos glanced back at him with an odd look. “That said, I might have heard enough. The man is extreme in many ways, but also cultured and highly intelligent. I could tell he was well educated just from how he talks. When he made comments in Greek, he sounded as if he had been raised in a wealthy household in Athens.” Nico looked around to find that Andrippos had gathered quite an audience. Other Cretans were looking over, and many had stood up to get closer. Andrippos smiled and continued. “The man is considered a war hero. He was awarded with a Civic Crown after he fought at the siege of Mytilene on Lesbos twenty years ago. I heard that’s a rare honor to be awarded, so it’s likely that he is a good leader that holds up under pressure. Let’s see, there’s one other truly notable thing I’ve heard about him: Caesar is fanatical about his word. I mean he keeps it whenever he gives it or promises something, no matter the cost. That must be a huge exception for politicians, and especially a high-ranking Roman like he is,” Andrippos chuckled, while many of them men burst into laughter.
“But what does that mean? Is he a truly good man?” Klearistos, Nico’s squad leader, asked.
“Maybe he is a believer in stoicism,” Nico threw in.
“I don’t know about that, or if he is a good person,” Andrippos answered. “All I know is that he goes to extreme lengths to hold his word, that he considers it the only currency that matters. Let me give you an example. Many of you know the story of how he was captured by pirates a few years back.” Nico saw several people nod. “Nothing special, considering how many people get ransomed all the time. However, you all know about Caesar’s encounter with the pirates because he told them he was worth a lot more than they were asking for, am I right?” Again, more nods, and murmurs of agreement. “That is the story that spread so fast and wide. There is a lesser known, and much more extreme part you probably don’t know about.” Andrippos added a dramatic pause before making his point.
“I heard this from one of Aulus Hirtius’ men, who heard it directly from Hirtius who was with Caesar when this all happened. Our governor told the pirates throughout his captivity that he would come back for them once he was free, and that he would crucify them all. They always laughed, thinking he was joking, but the same day he was freed he raised a small army in Miletus and captured them.” Andrippos looked back at his fellow archers, all hanging on his every word. “He brought them to Pergamum, capital of Asia province, where they went straight to jail. Next, he sent word to governor Silanus, who was away on campaign, asking for permission to crucify the pirates as he had promised. The governor wrote back, outright forbidding any action in his absence. Now comes the extreme part.” He paused again, taking a sip from his water skin.
“Despite that clear order, Caesar did what he had brought the pirates to Pergamum for. He lied to the jailors, saying he had clearance from the governor to do as he pleased, and had all the pirates crucified that same day. Well, he stayed true to his word, but at a high cost. He incurred the wrath of the governor, who had many strong and powerful allies in Rome. As a result, the Senate rebuked him for his apparent disregard of authority.”
After a moment of silence, several people started commenting at once. “What kind of leader does that make him for us?” Nico, closest to Andrippos, asked.
The first decurion took a moment to think. “I believe that Caesar meant every word he said at the swearing-in ceremony. That we all might face hardships serving with him, but that he would also always look out for us. And, that he’s someone I would not want angry at me. Ever.”
“I’d still prefer a liar and cheat ruling over a peaceful province, where we’re needed for police duty or street repair, over an honest governor leading us into war,” Nico retorted, earning everybody’s laughter.
“I think we all would much prefer that, my boy,” Andrippos quipped.
Nico stood up to stretch and glanced around. Elatos sat off to the side by himself, and he decided to walk over to the shy young man who had given him a wide smile from afar yesterday. The loss of Timon was still with him. It’s been two years, high-time for me to try to move on, and Elatos seems nice.
As Nico walked up to Elatos, he saw the same wide smile appear again. He grinned back, enjoying the moment.
693 AUC (61 BC), summer
Clusium, Etruria, Italia
Velia Churinas watched her older brother carefully note the amount of money he had just put in the small lockbox in their bakery ledger. She was glad she had talked her father into buying the papyrus needed, having a running tally had already proven a huge help. She picked up a loaf of bread from the cooling rack and put it into the bag she carried.
“Is it alright if Velia and I go see our friends now?” Numerius asked.
“Did you two finish all your deliveries?” Spurius replied to his fifteen-year-old son from behind the cooling racks.
“Yes father, except for the one to Lethie’s family. I’ll give that to her mother when we get there,” Velia said. Her idea for a morning bread delivery service was the reason the bakery had survived these last few years. “Numerius already updated the ledger, the money from this morning is in your box.”
Their father walked over to hug them both and watch them leave. They would pick up Lethie, Velia’s best friend, and go meet Vibius, who was Numerius’ best friend, at the courtyard of their tutor’s insula. Some years earlier, her father had managed to find a friendly tutor running a small school, willing to add a couple of older children in exchange for free daily bread. Numerius and she had eagerly taken to it, becoming fluent readers and writers while making new friends.
She followed her brother across the street at the pedestrian crossing, happily skipping from stone block to stone block, raised above the street surface to keep pedestrian shoes away from the muck and left-over dung of the cart animals of the previous
night’s delivery.
“Vibius told me yesterday that signing up as a legionary would give me full Roman citizenship. Which extends to all my close family,” Numerius said. “Now I think I should join as well when he enlists.”
“He’s been talking about signing up since he was eleven. I thought he would have grown out of it by now. What’s the normal recruiting age?” Velia asked.
“You could join really young as a camp laborer, but the normal age for soldiers is eighteen. But Vibius doesn’t want to wait that long, he wants to enlist two years from now when we’re seventeen. He figures that’s old enough for them to take us.”
Velia hated the idea of her brother becoming a soldier, leaving her and father alone to fight and probably die in some foreign country. I have two years left to talk him out of it. I better figure out how to do that.
693 AUC (61 BC), summer
Northern lands of the Igaeditani, Hispania
As the Ninth moved northwards through wooded hills leading away from the Tagus river, they reached a long stretch of medium sized mountains running northwards at a slight angle to the east. The legion’s long marching line stretched out at the bottom of the foot hills. Occasionally, small cavalry units were sent to scout the passes. The legion’s scouts had the unenviable job of finding ways across the mountains to keep communications open with the Tenth to the west, while the scouts heading east for the Eighth rode across easily passable flat plains. As the Ninth continued to move closer to the lands of the Lancienses Transcudani, Titus Balventius could see a much taller group of mountains peeking out from the horizon. Every day they came closer they ranged ever higher into the sky, with the white-capped peaks reaching above the clouds.
Balventius shared the wall of one of their fortified nightly camps with several other noncommissioned officers as he looked out over the land covered in shades of orange and pink from a beautiful sunset. The few clouds and the snowy peaks were lighted by a sun sinking early behind the mountains. The camp had finished its nightly roll calls, releasing most legionaries to their tents or a few unfortunates to the latrines for cleaning.
“Seppius, what do you think? Will we have to climb some of these?” Balventius asked his friend and optio while pointing north.
“I hope not, but if I know our lady Fortuna, it’s likely we will have to. I heard Tribune Marcus Crassus say that his scouts found fertile valleys with towns in these mountains, and fortifications that let the Transcudani cover the passes and approaches. If I were them, and if I were to make a stand against us, I would have all the clans of the area collect their food reserves and hurry in. A few passes in as the only access could make for great choke points.”
“Well, I hope they are not you, Seppius,” Balventius replied with a chuckle. “But I agree that the easy part is likely behind us. The Igaeditani weren’t ready for us, that surrender was entirely too easy. Though I won’t complain about the growing campaign stash of plunder.”
Balventius glanced down the wall. About fifty feet away, he saw Capussia and Andrippos slowly making their way over, stopping for a short time here and there to greet Numidian and Cretan sentries on wall duty, and a few other centurions and optios out and about. He had struck up a strong friendship with the two foreigners during the siege of their shared camp by the Celtici three years ago.
“Ah, Titus Balventius. And Gaius Seppius, was it?” The young legate of the Ninth, one Publius Vatinius, surprised them from behind. They both turned, nodding respectfully to the commander of the Ninth legion. “Nice balmy evening, right? Before long, I’m afraid the evenings will get rather chilly,” their legate continued while looking them over. “You’ve seen real action before this year’s campaigning, correct?”
“That’s right, sir,” Balventius answered. “We’ve done some fighting against the Celtici.”
“Then what do you think of our deployment so far? You must agree that it has been quite successful. I can’t believe we Romans left these people to themselves for a few years,” he added, smiling.
“I would not know about that last part, sir. I’m afraid it’s been easy because we haven’t run into any real resistance yet. I fear that we’ll find that one of these days. The northern tribes have plenty of warning by now,” Balventius retorted with a serious look on his face. He could not make himself like their commander. Vatinius was too smooth and slick, his easy smile felt false, never reaching the man’s eyes.
“That may be, centurion, that may be. We will overcome that as well though, won’t we?” the legate responded lightly. Balventius nodded, still unflinchingly showing a serious face. His legate frowned and stepped back. I hope he finally realizes we don’t care for his small talk. “I bid you good night,” Vatinius blurted out while suddenly turning around and walking off.
“I think he saw you two barbarians approaching, that’s why he left so quickly!” Balventius joked in relief, after seeing that Capussia and Andrippos close by on their way over.
“Was that our esteemed legate? That man is too full of himself by far,” Andrippos answered, laughingly. “I am quite happy he left before we arrived.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Tribune Marcus Crassus told me last week that our legate was accused by Consul Cicero of extortion and bribery, after serving as quaestor under him three years ago, and he was accused again for a second time when he served as legate under Praetor Cosconius last year. Just listening to his smooth talk makes me believe that he’s as guilty and corrupt as they come. I don’t know why Caesar took him on,” Seppius explained.
“Maybe Caesar knows something important about the man that we don’t?” Capussia contributed.
Considering that possibility, they all mused about what that might be while watching their legate talk his way through the other centurions before taking the inside stairs down from the wall.
693 AUC (61 BC), summer
Southeast of Stella Mountain range, lands of the Lancienses Transcudani, Hispania
A couple of weeks later, the legion’s march had brought them close to the tall mountains. Balventius had noticed many abandoned settlements, including even some big Oppida, local fortified hill towns. He was not surprised that Seppius’ prediction about the local clans gathering in resistance had proven true, their string of good luck would have to run out at some point.
“Have you heard that the troops are calling these impressive peaks Stella mountains?” Seppius asked while the two walked to the legate’s early morning meeting at the camp’s center crossroads, in front of the legate’s tent.
“I heard that name comes from the locals. You are supposed to be able to touch the lights in the night sky from the two tallest peaks,” Balventius answered. They both laughed at the same time at the ridiculous thought.
They arrived, with most of the whole staff of the Ninth already assembled. All cohort prefects, centurions and optios, tribunes, camp prefect, cavalry prefect, as well as the auxilia’s first and second decurions had been asked to be present. The last few missing officers showed soon after Balventius and Seppius arrival, leaving close to a hundred officers standing around and waiting for their commander. Most had left their tents too early for breakfast, their mouths now watering from the smell of fresh-baked bread permeating the camp from the many portable clay ovens used on open fires in front of the tents.
Legatus Vatinius deigned to show, walking right into the center and clearing his throat loudly to silence several personal conversations.
“The scouts were very clear on the enemy’s situation. All the Lancienses people have chosen to resist us, and the Transcudani clans are all rallying inside these mountains.” He pointed north. “It’s a perfectly defendable setup for them. There is only one decent pass in from the South, cutting through a massive high tableau that has their toughest fortifications. There is also at least one more pass into the valleys from the north, possibly two, at the northern end of the mountain range. We have identified a possible approach through a ravine in the east, but the report st
ates they have started to build a wall to close it off. That’s it, nothing else obvious. If we approach from the north, they can fight a retreat from their valley towns all the way up to the high flats.” He looked around the group. Without his fake smile, he seemed to be scowling. “Any recommendations?”
The first to speak was young Tribune Marcus Licinius Crassus. “Do we know if there are any goat paths going up? Something we could use to flank them with a cohort or two?”
The Ninth cavalry commander, a young man in his late twenties named Quintus Titurius Sabinius, raised his hand. “If I may answer that question? My scouts know of several paths up the sides to the high flats, but all of them are exposed. The southern part of these mountains is simply too high for much vegetation, except for around two massive lakes that are on top of the plateaus. However, the northern part of the mountains is considerably lower, and those mountains are stretched out, with long ridges and patches of woods reaching all the way up. I would suggest we look there for a possible way in.”
“I second that. I think these people still put too much emphasis on guarding against cavalry forces. They will likely patrol the ridges to catch any scouts we’d put up there, but they might not expect a big force to move that way,” Tribune Crassus added. “Anyway, sounds like we should only keep a few cohorts south, to secure the lower part of the pass and keep any reinforcements and food supplies from going in. Could the Eighth legion give us support? Do we know their current situation?” Everybody looked at their legate for the answer.
“We had word that the Coerenses surrendered after a few skirmishes, but that the Eight legion is bogged down fighting the Lancienses Oppidani. They are currently stuck besieging the town housing the Oppidani federation council,” Vatinius replied. “Their legate believes he will get a full surrender for the whole area when he takes it. He is planning an all-out assault, and if successful, he agreed to send us several cohorts. Until then, we will move north and leave a small force at the southern pass as suggested. Three cohorts should be enough to keep them from going in and out. The rest of us will keep moving north along the mountains’ eastside. We will decide how to best take on the Lancienses once we know how many forces the Eighth can send us, and when.” He stepped back and looked at his officers. “Any other questions? No? Dismissed!”
