Marching With Caesar-Revolt of the Legions

by R. W. Peake

  “Quartus Princeps Prior Pullus, returning to Ubiorum as directed by the Proconsul Nero Claudius Drusus.” I managed to keep a straight face, but it was made even more difficult because, now that he was standing, the Tribune’s gaze alternated between my face and the scroll, which he still had not taken from me. Finally, I lost my patience, although I managed to keep my voice level, “Tribune, until you accept this, I’m not officially reporting.”

  “Er, yes, I see,” he mumbled, his face turning a bright red, but thankfully, he finally took the scroll, whereupon the next problem presented itself. Even as it exchanged hands, his eyes never left it, until he looked up at me, and I suppose this was the first moment I realized just how young he was. Several heartbeats passed, then he swallowed hard and finally stopped his eyes long enough to look up at me and ask in a whisper, “Centurion, am I supposed to open this? I mean,” he added, “since it has the seal of a Proconsul.”

  Despite my overall ambivalence about Tribunes as a group, something in the youngster’s manner reminded me of young Volusenus, I suppose, so I nodded slightly and kept my voice low as I assured him, “Since these are my travel orders, Tribune, and you’re the duty Tribune, you have to open the scroll in order to verify that I am who I say I am, and that I’ve reported in within the specified time.” Then, before he could respond, I thought to tap the satchel that I had slung over my shoulder, saying with a grin, “Now the ones I have in here? If you opened one of those, you and I would both be in the cac.”

  The grin he returned did not seem feigned, and I found myself warming to this Tribune, slightly; only when I saw him performing his duties would I have a better sense of his overall value to the army. As he cracked open the seal, I saw his eyes move rapidly, telling me he was adept at reading, then his eyes, which had returned to their normal size, widened again.

  “Wait,” he gasped, looking back up at me, “you’re Princeps Prior Pullus?”

  This was such an odd thing to ask, I was not offended that he clearly had not been listening, although I did say, “That’s what I told you when I handed you my orders, Tribune. But,” I added, “yes, I’m Princeps Prior Pullus.”

  The color came back into his face, and he admitted, “I suppose I wasn’t paying close enough attention, Centurion, and I apologize for that. But,” his manner changed slightly as he cocked his head and examined me more closely, “whoever has the duty has been given standing orders that whenever you reported in, you were to be taken to the Propraetor immediately.”

  I had not given it prior thought, but I realized this made sense, given that Germanicus had been the one to send me with Dolabella.

  “Please wait here,” the Tribune said, moving from behind the desk. “I’m going to let the Propraetor know you’re here.”

  He hurried across the room, and now I could sense that the other Tribunes present had taken notice, feeling their eyes on me, which I ignored. Fortunately, the duty Tribune was not gone long, emerging from the door that led to the Praetor’s outer office, whereupon he beckoned to me. Crossing the distance, when I reached him, he held the scroll out to me, but I did not accept it.

  “Tribune, you need to go enter this into the Army diary,” I told him. “Until you do, I’m not officially here.”

  For the third time, his face glowed, and I wondered if the back and forth of all the blood to his head was making him lightheaded, and he mumbled, “Ah, yes. Of course. I’ll do it now.”

  I made sure to thank him, then stepped past him and entered into what was the outer office of the Praetor, expecting to go through another similar procedure with Germanicus’ secretary, whose desk was placed in between the outer door and the inner one. Instead, Germanicus himself was standing in the doorway of his office, and while he gave me a smile, I had served him long enough and been in close enough proximity to see the strain underneath his exterior.

  Nevertheless, his tone was cheerful, saying cheerfully, “Ave, Pullus! You don’t look bad for having traveled across half the Empire!”

  “Nor do you, sir,” I lied, saluting as I said this, which he returned.

  Then he beckoned me to follow him into his private office, not bothering to see if I followed, so that by the time I had entered, he was already dropping wearily into the chair behind his desk, suddenly looking older than I had ever seen him before.

  “Shut the door.” He waved, but while I thought he meant for me to do it, a slave I had not noticed seated on a stool in the corner leapt up and hurried to do it instead. Gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of the desk, Germanicus, always polite, asked if I cared for some refreshment.

  “Just water would be fine,” I assured him, and this made him laugh.

  “Want to keep a clear head with me, neh?” He said this jovially, and I did not detect anything there that might have struck a false note, but I still assured him this was not my reason. Waiting just long enough for the slave to hand me a cup, once done, Germanicus dismissed him, then even as the door swung shut, he did not hesitate. “Well? What happened in Pannonia?”

  Frankly, this shocked me to my core.

  “You mean you haven’t been informed?” I asked, trying to keep the doubt from my voice. “I’m the first one with any news?”

  In answer, Germanicus gave an impatient wave, saying flatly, “No, I know that the mutiny is over; I received a dispatch about that three days ago. But,” his handsome features hardened, “that’s not what I’m talking about.” Suddenly, he looked down on his desk, rummaged through a small pile of scrolls, then extracted one, which he held up, and when he did, I saw that it bore the same seal as the one on my orders, and on those in my satchel. “I know what my brother told me. What I want to know is what really happened.”

  Even as the words came out of his mouth, I felt a stirring of anger, not at Germanicus, but myself, realizing I should have anticipated this. Yes, they were brothers, but by adoption, and now that Augustus was gone, circumstances had drastically changed for both men. Also, I knew that there was no love lost between the pair, although now that I had been in Drusus’ company, I felt certain that the impetus for whatever hostility they felt for each other originated more from Drusus than the other way around. Granted, I have no way of knowing this with any certainty, but I knew Germanicus fairly well by this point, and even as he had hardened because of his experience in the Batonian revolt, his was not a naturally suspicious nor disagreeable nature. Drusus I only knew very slightly, but enough to see that he was more like his natural father than his adopted brother, and Tiberius was naturally more taciturn and suspicious, a trait that I had seen only get worse over the period of years I worked for him. Now, sitting in front of Germanicus, I roundly cursed myself for not being prepared, and I suppose this became apparent because of my hesitation.

  “Pullus,” Germanicus’ tone was almost apologetic, “I know I’m putting you in a difficult position. It’s just that this,” he waved the scroll disgustedly, then tossed it back on the desk, “only tells me what Drusus wants me to know.”

  In answer, I spent the next several moments giving Germanicus my assessment of not only the mutiny itself, but my opinion of Drusus’ handling of the matter.

  He listened intently, which was not surprising, only occasionally stopping me to ask a question or pressing me to expand on something, but I could not really discern what he was listening for, until, at least, I finished by saying, “Honestly, sir, I don’t know how long this peace is going to last. Many men were angry that Drusus arrived without the authority to do anything about the demands the men had made.”

  “That,” he muttered under his breath, and I am not sure whether I was meant to hear or not, “I understand.” More clearly, he said, “I can’t lie and say that I’m not happy to hear he had some…difficulties.”

  “Probably more trouble than you’ve been having,” I countered, thinking that this might help his state of mind.

  Instead, his head came up sharply, his eyes narrowed, and there was such a change in his
demeanor that I felt a sudden stab of alarm that I had inadvertently said something offensive.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked sharply. “Where did you hear that? Who told you that I’ve been having an easy time of it?”

  Thinking I understood, I assured him, “I don’t mean to imply it’s been easy, sir. Just that, from what I heard in Mogontiacum, there hasn’t been any real violence.”

  “That,” to my ears, he sounded rueful, “I’m not so sure about. But,” he regarded me thoughtfully, “that’s what the people are saying?”

  Promising him that this was the case, he was silent for a moment, his eyes going back to his desk, though I had the sense that he was not really looking at it.

  “Maybe,” he said softly, “that will be enough.” Then, he shook his head, returning his attention to me. “So, what do you know of what’s happening here?”

  “Not that much,” I admitted. “I know that the 2nd and 14th were in their camp, but the clerk in Mogontiacum couldn’t tell me exactly where the 5th and 21st are, and he knew even less about the 1st and the 20th.” His face, while not betraying any real emotion, still unsettled me, and I asked, cautiously, “How are the men, sir? What’s the mood of the Legions here?”

  It was easy to see this was the question he had been expecting, yet even so, he did not seem disposed to answer me, but he finally spoke.

  “They’re clearly still unhappy, since they’ve refused to move from their spot near Caedicius’ camp, and as of today, they still refuse to move until I hear back from my father.” He sighed, then added, “And the same goes for the 5th and 21st. They’re actually not that far from the 1st and 20th.”

  Understanding I was in potentially dangerous territory, I still felt compelled to delicately press, “Do you have any idea what he’ll do, sir?”

  “I wish I did,” Germanicus answered honestly. “I truly do. But,” he sighed, “I don’t.”

  “So,” I asked, though I felt certain I knew the answer, “you’ve actually been to our camp?”

  “Twice,” he answered. “In fact, I just got back earlier today. But,” he sighed again, “now that you’re here, I might as well go back with you. The gods know that I’m not getting anything done here.”

  For some reason, this reminded me, and I opened the satchel, handing him the other correspondence given to me by Dolabella, from Drusus, and I did not miss the grimace when Germanicus saw the seals, although he accepted them from me readily enough.

  When he broke the seal and began to unroll the first one, I felt quite uncomfortable, wondering if it was the one that Dolabella had essentially written that sang my praises.

  “Do you want me to leave, sir? So you can read what your brother sent?”

  He had obviously already begun reading, since this seemed to startle him, as if he had forgotten my presence, and he looked up at me but shook his head.

  “No, if you don’t mind, go ahead and sit there while I read this,” he waved the scroll, “letter from my brother. So far, it’s more or less the same cac he sent in the dispatch, just with a bit more detail. I might have some questions for you.”

  Now, he had been courteous by asking if I minded, but I knew it was an order, so I assured him I was perfectly content to sit and sip my water, although I briefly considered asking that it be changed to wine. As he continued reading, I surreptitiously studied his face, thinking that, since I was somewhat familiar with him, I might get an idea about how he was taking whatever it was Drusus had written. Suddenly, his brows plunged down together, which I knew was the sign he was concentrating on what he was reading, then he looked up at me and gave me a sharp look.

  “Is this true?” he demanded, but before I could answer, he gave a small laugh and said, “Of course, since you have no idea what I’m reading, how could you possibly know?” Glancing back down at the scroll, he said, “According to Drusus, he ordered the execution of the ringleaders, which was carried out? But,” he seemed to be getting more agitated with every word, “without actually promising the Pannonian Legions anything?”

  I suspect that I can be forgiven for my sudden wish that the floor would open underneath my chair and swallow me up. Regardless of my desire not to become entangled in whatever was brewing between these two men, now second or third in line to be Imperator, I also felt a strong allegiance to Germanicus, and essentially none to Drusus. That I had now observed both men under duress and seen how they handled it also meant that I did not hesitate, at least perceptibly enough for Germanicus to notice.

  Before I did, however, I thought to ask, “Did the Proconsul mention anything…unusual? About the circumstances, I mean?”

  That this puzzled Germanicus gave me the answer, and I went on to explain about the true cause for the collapse of the mutiny. As he sat listening, his expression grew stony, and I noticed that he had one hand under the desk, which told me that he was rhythmically pounding his thigh with his fist, his habit when he was angry that I had first observed during the Batonian revolt. By the time I had finished, only leaving out any mention of Domitius’ role, he was as angry as I had ever seen him, even more than when he confronted Scipio outside Raetinium the day after the town burned down.

  “That…viper,” he hissed, waving the scroll in my general direction, “didn’t say one word about any eclipse, or that the ringleaders were taken care of by the Centurions who remained loyal!”

  Now that was not exactly the way I had related it, but if that was how he took it, I certainly was not inclined to correct him. He sat there, visibly fuming for a moment, then, slowly, his demeanor changed, and he finally said, “But, while he doesn’t know it, my brother gave me an idea.” Giving me a wan smile, he continued, “I know you’re tired, Pullus, but I’m afraid you’re only going to get a night’s rest. I need you to accompany me back to your Legion.”

  “It’s a fucking mess, Pullus.”

  Darkness had fallen on the next day, with Germanicus and me arriving perhaps a watch before, and I was now sitting in a quiet corner of the praetorium with the Primus Pilus, along with Macer, the three of us all with cups. It had been Sacrovir who uttered this, only after I had told, now for the fourth time, of all that I had witnessed with the Army of Pannonia, this final time for the benefit of the Pili Priores, who Sacrovir had sent for once he was satisfied that I had told him everything. First, of course, had been to Germanicus, but my second retelling had actually been to Alex, as I walked with him back out of camp to the smaller camp that was serving as Germanicus’ ad hoc headquarters that he had ordered constructed on his first visit to the disaffected Legions, which was manned by a motley combination of Germanicus’ personal bodyguards, a Century of auxiliaries, and two Centuries composed of rankers, one from the 1st and one from the 20th, who had remained openly loyal. It was similar in purpose, if constructed better, as the camp Sejanus had ordered outside the Pannonian Legions’ camp, and Germanicus had assured me that there had been no attempt on the part of the mutineers to seize control, or to make any threatening overtures. To demonstrate his faith in the Legions, at least as far as his personal security was concerned, he had allowed his wife and youngest child to accompany us from Ubiorum, which was the only reason I had consented to bring not only Titus, but Algaia with me. I know that it was somewhat cruel, but I made no mention as to why we were going to Germanicus’ camp, aside from mumbling something vague about needing to retrieve something there. Alex was clearly skeptical, but he was more interested in hearing about what I had been through than trying to decipher what I was up to, which I divulged only by entering the quaestorium and insisting Alex enter first. It took a moment as, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting, he glanced around the interior, where some of Germanicus’ clerks who worked for him in his role of Propraetor had been consigned, along with a half-dozen immunes attending to various tasks, and in fact I saw him pass over the young man and woman sitting there on sacks of grain against one wall of the tent, watching us in the doorway. Then, his head swiveled back ar
ound to the pair, and perhaps a heartbeat after that, I had to steady my nephew as his mind caught up with his eyes. This was the last coherent moment, as Titus leapt to his feet, ran to his brother, and threw himself into Alex’s embrace, both of them openly sobbing with happiness at seeing each other. Only Algaia hung back, but while I would have loved to stay and observe this small reunion that I had created, there was too much waiting back at camp for me to stay. I gave Alex the pass I had gotten from Germanicus that allowed Titus and Algaia spots in the tents belonging to the servants, although Algaia was going to be staying with Agrippina’s retinue of female attendants and slaves, and permission for Alex to remain out of the main camp overnight.

  Only then did Alex seem to regain at least some of his senses, because he reached out and grabbed my arm as I turned away. “Uncle Titus! Wait! I haven’t told you about everything that’s happened!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I assured him. “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it from Macer.”

  “But what about the Century? Don’t you want to hear about Structus and what he’s been up to?”

  I could see that this truly bothered him, reminding me how seriously he took his duties as the chief clerk for the Century, but I also knew that, while Alex could certainly provide some important insight into what had transpired during my absence, his observation was not the one that mattered; ultimately, it was what Macer, my Pilus Prior, and Sacrovir, my Primus Pilus, thought. Naturally, I did not say this. It was plain to see he was torn about whether to return with me, but I gave him a nod of my head, towards his brother and the girl, so he obeyed me; when I left them standing outside the quaestorium, it was with the sounds of tearful laughter and excited chatter in my ears. During my return to the camp, which was about two furlongs away from Germanicus’, I thought about how Titus was going to explain the presence of the Breuci girl, and more importantly, how Alex would react to the idea of his younger brother having a woman of his own, especially since Alex had been dismissed by the girl he loved when someone with better prospects showed up, which had only occurred because he had heeded my poor advice and not made any kind of commitment to her. When I returned to the praetorium, I learned the reason it was not packed full of men, being informed that, unlike the Pannonian camp, an agreement had been reached that allowed men the freedom of the camp until darkness, when those officers who remained loyal were expected to either return to the praetorium or, if they chose to stay in their quarters, they agreed not to leave them until daylight. While I did not ask how this came about, I did not need to, at least as to why this liberty extended to only the daylight hour; plotting and conspiring is rarely conducted when the sun is up. Consequently, I made my way to the Legion office, whereupon I spent a third of a watch before the sun went down just with the Primus Pilus, but it was a singularly unsatisfying and unsettling experience, because while he pumped me for information about all that had transpired in Pannonia, he gave me very little detail about what had happened with our own Legion. Then, he said something that, while true, I found a bit odd that he would bring it up.