"We'll be blown there too fast for Libo!" laughed Antony.
"Let's hope we stay together," said Calenus dourly.
But Caesar's luck extended its reach to protect them—or so thought the men of the Sixth, Eighth, Eleventh, Thirteenth and Fourteenth as the ships scudded up the Adriatic on a following sea with the wind swelling the sails. Of Libo's fleet there was no sign, nor did storm clouds darken the paling vault.
Off Sason Island another Pompeian fleet picked them up and started in pursuit, assisted by the same wind propelling Antony's fleet steadily further away from any desirable destination.
"Ye Gods, we're likely to be blown to Tergeste!" Antony cried as the promontory beyond Dyrrachium flew by. But even as he spoke—as if the Gods had required him to—the wind began to drop.
"Turn inshore while we can," he said curtly to the captain, standing on the poop; the man nodded to the two helmsmen on the huge rudder oars, who leaned against their tillers as if pushing boulders.
"That's Coponius's fleet," said Calenus. "He'll catch us."
"Not before we beach, if beach we have to."
Thirty-five miles north of Dyrrachium was Lissus, and here Antony turned his ships bow-on to present smaller targets for the rams of Coponius's war galleys, a scant mile from his stragglers and already rowing at close to ramming speed.
Suddenly the wind turned, blew a minor gale from the north. Cheering hysterically, everyone aboard Antony's ships watched as the thwarted Pompeians dwindled and disappeared below the horizon.
All Lissus was on hand to welcome Caesar's army, sympathies in line with those of every other settlement along that coast, and set to work with a will to help get the thousands of animals ashore in a place not nearly as well endowed with wharfage as Brundisium.
A very happy man, Antony paused only long enough to let his charges regain their land legs with a sleep and a meal, then, with tribunes and centurions and cavalry prefects harrying the men into marching order, he set off south to meet Caesar.
"Or Pompeius," said Calenus.
Eyes rolling, Antony slapped one mighty thigh in exasperation. "Calenus, you ought to know better! Do you honestly believe that a slug like Pompeius will reach us first?"
Keeping watch on top of the highest hill in the area around his camp on the Apsus, Caesar saw his fleet in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. But then, helpless to do anything about it, he had to witness the wind carrying it away to the north.
"Strike camp, we march."
"Pompeius is readying to march too," said Vatinius. "He'll get there first."
"Pompeius is a routine commander, Vatinius. He'll want to choose his battle site, so he won't venture north of Dyrrachium because he doesn't know the lie of the land well enough. I think he'll go to earth on the Genusus near Asparagium, a long way south of Dyrrachium—but on the Via Egnatia. Pompeius hates marching on bad roads. And he has to prevent my joining up with Antonius. So why not lie in wait at a point he knows—or thinks he knows—the rest of my army will have to use?"
"So what will you do?" asked Vatinius, eyes dancing.
"Skirt him, of course. I'll ford the Genusus ten miles inland on that country road we scouted," said Caesar.
"Ah!" Vatinius exclaimed. "Pompeius thinks Antonius will reach Asparagium before you do!"
"It's true that Antonius marches my way—I trained him well in Gaul to move fast. But he's no fool, our Antonius. Or put it this way—he has more than his share of low cunning."
An accurate assessment. Marching on a minor road some miles to the west of Dyrrachium, Antony had indeed moved swiftly. Though not blindly. His scouts were scrupulous. Near sunset on the eleventh day of June they informed him that some local people had revealed that Pompey was lying in wait just north of the Genusus. Antony promptly stopped, pitched camp, and expected Caesar.
On the twelfth day of June the two parts of Caesar's army combined, a joyous reunion for the veterans.
Antony himself was hopping up and down in glee. "I have a big surprise for you!" he told Caesar the moment they met.
"Not unpalatable, I hope."
Like one of the magicians he so loved to include in his wild parades through Campania, Antony conjured his hands at a wall of his legates. It parted to reveal a tall, handsome man in his middle forties, sandy-haired and grey-eyed.
"Gnaeus Domitius Calvinus!" cried Caesar. "I am surprised!" He walked forward, wrung Calvinus's hand. "What are you doing in such disreputable company? I felt sure you'd be with Pompeius."
"Not I," said Calvinus emphatically. "I admit that I've been a loyal member of the boni for years—until, in fact, March of last year." His eyes grew flinty. "But, Caesar, I cannot adhere to a group of miserable cowards who abandoned their country. When Pompeius and his court left Italia, they broke my heart. I'm your man to the death. You've treated Rome and Italia like a sensible man. Sensible laws, sensible government."
"You might have remained there with my good wishes."
"Not I! I'm a handy man with an army, and I want to be there when Pompeius and the rest submit. For they will. They will!"
Over a simple dinner of bread, oil and cheese, Caesar made his dispositions. Present were Vatinius, Calvinus, Antony, Calenus, Lucius Cassius (a first cousin of Gaius and Quintus), Lucius Munatius Plancus, and Gaius Calvisius Sabinus.
"I have nine good legions at full strength and a thousand German cavalry," said the General, munching a radish. "Too many to feed while we're here in Epirus, and enduring winter. Pompeius won't engage in this kind of country, nor will he engage in this weather. He'll move east to Macedonia or Thessaly in spring. If there is to be a battle at all, it will be there. It behooves me to win Greece to my side—I'm going to need supplies as well as support. Therefore I'll split my army. Lucius Cassius and Sabinus, you'll take the Seventh and deal with western Greece—Amphilochia, Acarnania and Aetolia. Behave very nicely. Calenus, you'll take the five senior cohorts of the Fourteenth and half my cavalry and persuade Boeotia that Caesar's side is the right one. Which will give me central Greece too. Avoid Athens, it's not worth the effort. Concentrate on Thebes, Calenus."
"It leaves you very under Pompeius's strength, Caesar," said Plancus, frowning.
"I think I could probably bluff Pompeius with two legions," said Caesar, unperturbed. "He won't engage until he has Metellus Scipio and the two Syrian legions."
"But that's ridiculous!" said Calenus. "If he hit you with everything he has, you'd go down."
"I'm well aware of it. But he won't, Calenus."
"I hope you're right!"
"Calvinus, I have a special job for you," said Caesar.
"Anything I can do, I will."
"Good. Take the Eleventh and the Twelfth and see if you can find Metellus Scipio and those two Syrian legions before they join Pompeius."
"You want me in Thessaly and Macedonia."
"Exactly. Take a squadron of my Gallic cavalry with you. They can act as scouts."
"Which leaves you with another squadron of Gallic horse and five hundred Germans," said Calvinus. "Pompeius has thousands."
"Eating him out of house and home, yes." Caesar turned his head to Antony. "What did you do with the three legions you left in Brundisium, Antonius?"
"Sent 'em to Italian Gaul," mumbled Antony through a huge mouthful of oily bread. "Wondered if you mightn't want some of 'em for Illyricum, so I told the Fifteenth and Sixteenth to march for Aquileia. Other one's going to Placentia."
"My dear Antonius, you are a pearl beyond price! That is exactly right. Vatinius, I'm giving you command of Illyricum. You'll go overland from here, it's quicker." The pale eyes looked on Antony kindly. "Don't worry about your brother, Antonius. I hear he's being treated well."
"Good," said Antony gruffly. "A bit of a fool, I know, but he's my brother."
"A pity," said Calvinus, "that you allowed so many of those wonderful legates from Gallic days to remain in Rome this year."
"They've earned it," said Caesar placidly. "They'd rather be her
e, but they have careers to get on with. None of them can be consuls until they've been praetors." He sighed. "Though I do miss Aulus Hirtius. No one runs the office like Hirtius."
After the meal ended only Vatinius and Calvinus remained to keep Caesar company; Caesar wanted news from Rome and Italia.
"What on earth got into Caelius?" he asked Calvinus.
"Debt," said Calvinus abruptly. "He'd staked everything on your bringing in a general cancellation of debts, and when you didn't, he was done for. Such a promising fellow in some ways—Cicero absolutely doted on him. And he did well when he was aedile—fought the water companies to a standstill and brought in some much-needed reforms."
"I detest the aedileship," said Caesar. "The men who hold it—including me in my day!—spend money they can't afford to throw wonderful games. And never get out of debt."
"You did," said Vatinius, smiling.
"That's because I'm Caesar. Go on, Calvinus. With the sea not mine to sail upon freely, I've heard little. Tell me."
"Well, as foreign praetor, I suppose Caelius thought he had the authority to do pretty much as he liked. He tried to put his own cancellation of debts through the Popular Assembly."
"And Trebonius tried to stop him, I know that."
"Unsuccessfully. The meeting was shockingly violent. Not one man in need of a general cancellation of debts wasn't there—and wasn't determined to see it pass."
"So Trebonius went to Vatia Isauricus, I imagine," said Caesar.
"You know these men, so your guess is better educated than mine. Vatia passed the Senatus Consultum Ultimum at once. When two tribunes of the plebs tried to veto it, he expelled them under its terms. He did very well, Caesar. I approved."
"So Caelius fled Rome and went to Campania to try to drum up support and troops around Capua. That's the last I've heard."
"We heard," said Calvinus slyly, "that you were so worried you even tried to return to Brundisium in an open boat."
"Edepol, these stories do get round!" said Caesar, grinning.
"Your nephew Quintus Pedius was the praetor delegated to march the Fourteenth Legion to Brundisium, and he happened to be in Campania at the moment when Caelius met none other than Milo sneaking back from exile in Massilia."
"Aaah!" said Caesar, drawing the word out slowly. "So Milo thought he'd mount a revolution of his own, did he? I presume that the Senate under Vatia and Trebonius wasn't foolish enough to give him permission to come home."
"No, he landed illegally at Surrentum. He and Caelius fell on each other's shoulders and agreed to combine forces. Caelius had managed to scrape up about three cohorts of debt-ridden Pompeian veterans—all addicted to wine and grand ideas. Milo volunteered to help scrape up a few more."
Calvinus sighed, shifted. "Vatia and Trebonius sent word to Quintus Pedius to deal with the situation in Campania under the Senatus Consultum Ultimum."
"In other words, they authorized my nephew to make war."
"Yes. Pedius swung his legion around and met them not far from Nola. There was a battle of a kind. Milo died in it. Caelius managed to get away, but Quintus Pedius pursued him and killed him. That was the end of it."
"Good man, my nephew. Very reliable."
It was Vatinius's turn to sigh. "Well, Caesar, I imagine that will be the last of any troubles in Italia this year."
"I sincerely hope so. But, Calvinus, at least you know now why I left so many of my loyalest legates behind in Rome. They're men of action, not dithery old women."
Pompey decided to settle more permanently on the Genusus River at Asparagium, secure in the fact that he was still north of Caesar's main camp and that Dyrrachium was safe. Whereupon, shades of the Apsus River, Caesar appeared on the south bank of the Genusus and paraded every day for battle. Most embarrassing for Pompey, who was aware that Caesar had halved his cavalry and split off at least three legions to forage in Greece; he didn't know that Calvinus was heading to Thessalia to intercept Metellus Scipio, though he had heard in letters that Calvinus was now openly for Caesar.
"I can't fight!" he was reported to Caesar as saying. "It's too wet, sleety, cold and miserable to expect a good performance from my troops. I'll fight when Scipio joins me."
"Then," said Caesar to Antony, "let's make him warm his troops up a little."
He broke camp with his usual startling rapidity and disappeared. At first Pompey thought he had retreated south due to lack of food; then his scouts informed him that Caesar had crossed the Genusus a few miles inland and headed up a mountain pass toward Dyrrachium. Horrified, Pompey realized that he was about to be cut off from his base and huge accumulation of supplies. Still, he was marching the Via Egnatia, while Caesar was stuck getting his army over what the scouts described as a track. Yes, he'd beat Caesar easily!
Caesar was in the lead along that track, surrounded by the hoary young veterans of the Tenth.
"Oh, this is more like it, Caesar!" said one of these hoary young veterans as the Tenth struggled around boulders and over rocks. "A decent march for once!"
"Thirty-five miles of it, lad, so I've been told," Caesar said, grinning broadly, "and it's got to be done by sunset. When Pompeius strolls up the Via Egnatia, I want the bastard to be pointing his snub nose at our arses. He thinks he's got some Roman soldiers. I know he hasn't. The real Roman soldiers belong to me."
"That's because," said Cassius Scaeva, one of the Tenth's centurions, "real Roman soldiers belong to real Roman generals, and there's no Roman general realer than Caesar."
"That remains to be seen, Scaeva, but thanks for the kind words. From now on, boys, save your breath. You're going to need it before sunset."
By the end of the day Caesar's army occupied some heights about two miles from Dyrrachium just east of the Via Egnatia; orders were to dig in for the duration, which meant a big camp bristling with fortifications.
"Why not the higher heights over there, the ones the locals call Petra?" asked Antony, pointing south.
"Oh, I think we'll leave that for Pompeius to occupy."
"But it's better ground, surely!"
"Too close to the sea, Antonius. We'd spend most of our time fending off Pompeius's fleets. No, he's welcome to Petra."
Coming up the Via Egnatia the next morning to find Caesar between himself and Dyrrachium, Pompey seized the heights of Petra and established himself there impregnably.
"Caesar would have done better to keep me out of here," said Pompey to Labienus. "It's far better ground, and I'm not cut off from Dyrrachium because I'm on the sea." He turned to one of his more satisfactory legates, his son-in-law, Faustus Sulla. "Faustus, get messages to my fleet commanders that all my supplies are to be landed here in future. And have them start ferrying what's in Dyrrachium." He lifted his lip. "We can't have Lentulus Crus complaining that there's no quail or garum sauce for his chefs to conjure their marvels."
"It's an impasse," said Labienus, scowling. "All Caesar is intent on doing is demonstrating that he can run rings around us."
A curiously prophetic statement. Within the next days the Pompeian high command in Petra noticed that Caesar was fortifying a line of hills about a mile and a half inland from the Via Egnatia, starting at his own camp's walls and moving inexorably south. Then entrenchments and earthworks were flung up between the forts, linking them together.
Labienus spat in disgust. "The cunnus! He's going to circumvallate. He's going to wall us in against the sea and make it impossible for us to get enough grazing for our mules and horses."
Caesar had called his army to an assembly.
"Here we are, a thousand and more miles from our old battleground in Gallia Comata, boys!" he shouted, looking cheerful and—well, didn't he always?—confident. "This last year must have seemed strange to you. More marching than digging! Not too many days going hungry! Not too many nights freezing! A romp in the hay from time to time! Plenty of money going into the legion banks! A nice, brisk sea voyage to clear the nostrils!
"Dear, dear," he went on mildl
y, "you'll be getting soft at this rate! But we can't have that, can we, boys?"
"NO!" roared the soldiers, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"That's what I thought. Time, I said to myself, that those cunni in my legions went back to what they do best! What do you do best, boys?"
"DIG!" roared the soldiers, beginning to laugh.
"Go to the top of Caesar's class! Dig it is! It looks like Pompeius might nerve himself to fight one of these years, and we can't have you going into battle without having first shifted a few million basketloads of earth, can we?"
"NO!" roared the soldiers, hysterical with mirth.
"That's what I thought too. So we're going to do what we do best, boys! We're going to dig, and dig, and dig! Then we'll dig some more. I've a fancy to make Alesia look like a holiday. I've a fancy to shut Pompeius up against the sea. Are you with me, boys? Will you dig alongside Caesar?"
"YES!" they roared, flapping their kerchiefs in the air.
"Circumvallation," said Antony thoughtfully afterward.
"Antonius! You remembered the word!"
"How could anyone forget Alesia? But why, Caesar?"
"To make Pompeius respect me a little more," said Caesar, his manner making it impossible to tell whether he was joking. "He's got over seven thousand horses and nine thousand mules to feed. Not terribly difficult around here, where there's winter rain rather than winter snow. The grass doesn't wither, it keeps on growing. Unless, that is, he can't send his animals out to pasture. If I wall him in, he's in trouble. A circumvallation also renders his cavalry ineffectual. No room to maneuver."
"You've convinced me."
"Oh, but there's more," said Caesar. "I want to humiliate Pompeius in the eyes of his client kings and allies. I want men like Deiotarus and Ariobarzanes to chew their nails down wondering and worrying whether Pompeius will ever get up the courage to fight. He's outnumbered me two to one since I landed. Yet he will not fight. If it goes on long enough, Antonius, some of his foreign kings and allies might decide to withdraw their support, bring their levies home. After all, they're paying, and the men who pay are entitled to see results."
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