Marching With Caesar-Revolt of the Legions

by R. W. Peake

  “We all do, sir.”

  I could not see him, but I recognized Sacrovir’s voice, which was quickly joined by others, all of them adding their assent to the Primus Pilus. While I would not say he was pleased, Germanicus was clearly relieved that his Centurions were not willing for him to bear the responsibility for the mutiny of the Army of the Rhenus alone.

  Once things were quiet again, Germanicus continued, “Whatever the cause, I’m determined that we put this behind us, and I know all of you will do the same with your Centuries. Now,” for the first time, he smiled, although it was a grim one, “that’s not to say we’re not going to work the men harder than they’ve ever been worked before, but since it’s for a good cause, I think they’ll turn to their tasks without more than the normal amount of complaint.” He paused for a moment, then asked a question that I do not believe he would have asked under normal circumstances, and again, I suspect I heard a note in his voice that few of the others present did. “Do you agree with that assessment?”

  We assured him that we did, and thus assured, Germanicus began outlining his plan for the coming campaign in broad strokes, and the first surprise was that he was not going to wait until next spring. Instead, he was launching a limited punitive campaign against the Marsi, which he intended to begin as quickly as possible. As we all listened intently, I realized that this was clearly something he had been thinking about for some time, certain that he could not have come up with the level of detail this quickly. He spoke for perhaps a third of a watch, and by the time he was through and asked for questions, he had been so thorough that there were very, very few.

  “Naturally, we’re going to be adding more details as we get closer to marching, but you should know that, now that I’ve finished the census in Gaul, I’m going to be with the army for the duration of not just this campaign, but the one coming up this spring. And,” he said, “if you have any ideas or concerns that I and my staff are missing something, please don’t hesitate to have your superior bring it up with me. Now,” he finished, “I also know I don’t need to tell you that our first order of business is filling the posts of the Centurions and Optios who…” his voice trailed off, but he clearly saw he had no need to remind us of their collective fate, and he continued, making a slight gesture with his hands, “…and I’d like those spots filled within the next two days. The sooner we can do that, the quicker we can get things back to normal and get to work.”

  With that, we were dismissed, and as was customary, we returned to our respective areas with the Centurions from our Cohort. It was during our walk back that Macer pulled me aside, which was not unusual in itself, but clearly, Vespillo, Cornutus, and Volusenus sensed that this was about something out of the ordinary. If they had asked, I would have agreed with them, certain that, despite his claim that what had taken place with Pusio would never be mentioned again, he was having second thoughts, not that I could blame him. Happily, in more ways than one, I was completely wrong, although it did explain why the other three Centurions were clearly unhappy about being excluded, since they had a better idea of what was really going on than I did.

  “Do you think Structus is ready for promotion?” Macer asked without preamble, catching me completely by surprise, which might have been his intent, because without thinking about it, I answered, “Absolutely.”

  “So do I,” he agreed, then he hesitated for a moment, and I understood why when he went on, “which is why I’m putting him forward to the Primus Pilus to take over Philus’ Century.”

  This brought me to an abrupt halt, not because I thought it was a bad idea, but that it was not the customary method, and my first thought was that it might actually hamper Structus’ chances of entering the Centurionate.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, but then before he could respond, I felt it important to add, “It’s not because I don’t think he can handle it. I do, very strongly. But it’s just…”

  “Unusual,” Macer finished for me, and I nodded. “Yes, it is,” he agreed, “but this is an unusual time, and Sacrovir has already let it be known he’s open to the idea of promoting eligible Optios into the Centurionate in their own Cohorts and not just shifting men who are already Centurions up and filling the third line Cohorts with new Centurions. He thinks that having men who may be inexperienced as Centurions but are familiar with the men of the Cohort is more important, especially after all that’s happened.” This made complete sense to me, and I said as much. “Good.” Macer sounded relieved, making me wonder whether he thought I might have objected, or if it was just one of many details that he had to attend to, which seemed to be confirmed as he asked, “And who do you have in mind for your Optio?”

  “Clustuminus.” Again, I answered immediately, but this time, Macer did not nod, nor did he say anything. We had resumed walking, and the next several paces were covered in silence, until I could not take it anymore, asking, “Is there a problem with Clustuminus?”

  Macer pursed his lips, not answering immediately, then he said, “I just recall wondering how involved he was with the mutiny.” He turned to look up at me and asked, “What do you think?”

  There was no way I could deny that this had not been a concern for me, and I admitted, “I wondered the same thing. But,” I confess I was making this up as I went, since I had not had the time to sit down and gather my thoughts on the subject, “I think that he was like a lot of the men who agreed that we were owed these concessions by Tiberius. And,” I took a breath before I said, “I agree with the men who feel that way.”

  This caused Macer to look up at me in surprise, exclaiming, “Gerrae! Really?”

  “Yes, really,” I answered.

  “But you never gave any indication that you felt that way,” Macer did not seem to actually be aiming that at me, speaking in more of a musing tone.

  I did not know how to respond to that, so I did not try, and we both remained silent the rest of the way to our area.

  Stopping at the Cohort tent, Macer started to enter, then turned and asked me, “Are you sure about Clustuminus?”

  “Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

  He did not say anything, just gave a nod, and I resumed walking to my own quarters, wondering what he would do about my Optio. I got my answer less than a third of a watch later, when Alex came to tell me that Lucco had just taken the warrant for Structus’ promotion to Quartus Hastatus Prior to the Legion office. And, before the end of the day, his promotion had been approved, prompting me to send the warrant for Clustuminus to Macer, which he did approve, but not until the next day. Just as Germanicus had decreed, all the empty spots for both Legions had been filled by the second day after the end of the mutiny, and the preparation for this short campaign against the Marsi began in earnest.

  I do not know if the complete story of what happened with the 5th and 21st as it pertains to Germanicus’ letter to Caecina will ever be known, but ultimately, it is the result that matters, not the method. And, as with my Legion and the 20th, the ringleaders of the mutiny were turned on and executed by their own comrades, which was apparently a bit less organized and much bloodier than what had occurred with the 1st and 20th. All that mattered, at least to the Centurions, was that things had returned to a semblance of normality, and fairly quickly, the work of preparing for yet another winter campaign, like the one early in my time with the 1st under Tiberius, occupied every waking watch of men of all ranks, which served to keep the chatter about recent events to a minimum. And, with that, gentle reader, I must close, because I have much to do as the time to march rapidly approaches.

  Chapter Twelve

  Normally, I do not spend any time on this account while on campaign, but because of something that happened shortly before we left Ubiorum that has completely upended my world, I am compelled to spend what little off-duty time a Centurion has in recording what occurred. Simply put, I am incapable of sleeping as it is, so I might as well put this time to use, if only to attempt to make sense of it in my own mind, although i
t might be impossible.

  It began innocuously enough, after our return to Ubiorum, when I happened to be in the Cohort office delivering the daily report, and Volusenus entered.

  Lucco and I were chatting about nothing important, so when the Hastatus Posterior walked in, Lucco excused himself from the conversation, calling to Volusenus, “Centurion, you must have gotten my message.” Without waiting for a reply, the clerk looked down at a small pile of scrolls, frowning as he picked through them, then finding the correct one, held it out. “Here it is. This came for you a few moments ago. From Ubiorum,” he informed Volusenus.

  “Ubiorum?” Volusenus’ frown mirrored that of Lucco, but he took the scroll, saying as he opened it, “I don’t know why anyone from Ubiorum would want to send me anything.”

  In fact, I did, or at least thought I did, because Volusenus had confided something to me, which was what prompted me to grin and guess, “Maybe it’s from your…friend. You know the one; her husband might be out of town again.”

  I was rewarded by a sudden flushing of Volusenus’ face even as he returned my grin, although it was somewhat guilty, but it vanished as soon as he began reading the contents. Between his height and the way he was standing, I could not see what was written on the parchment; I have spent a fair amount of the intervening time wondering, if I had managed to catch a glimpse of the hand in which the words were written, would I have been better prepared for what was about to happen to my life?

  In the moment, I was just mildly concerned at the sudden change in Volusenus’ expression, and I asked, “What is it? Bad news?”

  This seemed to yank him from his reading of the scroll, and he looked up at me, more bemused than anything else.

  Shaking his head, he said, “What? No, it’s not…bad news, exactly.” He hesitated, then said with what sounded to me like a forced casualness, “It’s just that my mother is coming to Ubiorum and is asking to see me.”

  “Your mother?” I echoed, then before I could stop myself, I teased him, “Is she coming to make sure you’re being treated well by all of us other Centurions?”

  This irritated Volusenus, and he shot me a scowl, but it was nothing like the look he would have given me early in his tenure as Hastatus Posterior; indeed, I suspect that my jibe would have caused us to come to blows.

  “No, Pullus,” he sighed with an air of exaggerated patience, “she just loves her son. And,” suddenly, he grinned back at me, “she stopped worrying about me when I was ten years old because I was as big as my father, and she said she felt silly thinking that some other boy could thrash me.”

  As I suspect he hoped, this did make me laugh, because this was something we had in common, and over the years as we became closer, we had often talked about some of the little things that men of our size experience.

  Volusenus turned serious, waving the scroll, explaining, “She was visiting my aunt in Mogontiacum when the mutiny happened, and now that it’s over, she decided to come see me before she returned home to Mediolanum. She sent a courier ahead to let me know she should be in Ubiorum just before dark.”

  I recalled that, while we had never talked that much about our respective families, I was aware that, before he died, the paterfamilias and his son had not been particularly close, but I knew this was not the case with his mother. It was not that he mentioned her all that often, but when he did, anyone with eyes could see by his expression how he felt about her, and I suppose this was another way in which we were similar, since I felt much the same way about my departed mother, Iras.

  It was Lucco who interjected, informing us both, “The Pilus Prior is planning on giving the Cohort the liberty of the town tonight.”

  “Well,” I said cheerfully, “it looks like Volusenus doesn’t have any excuse not to see his mother.”

  Sighing, Volusenus asked, “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.” I informed him with a broad smile that almost hurt my cheeks.

  “Well, I was going to honor you by introducing you to her,” he grumbled, heading for the door as he did, “but you can forget that now.”

  “Why, Volusenus,” I tried to appear upset, “that hurts my feelings!”

  “Yes, I can tell,” he answered dryly, but he was closing the door as he did so, leaving Lucco and me chuckling.

  I actually had no plans to go into town that night, but Macer talked me into it.

  “We haven’t had a night off since the mutiny began,” he reminded me, “and the gods know when we’ll have another chance.”

  This was certainly true, and honestly, I did not have to be pressed that hard, knowing that all I was going to do was stay in my quarters and read. Alex had been spending his nights in town with Algaia, but my worries about friction between the brothers were unfounded, since before a week was out, Titus had taken up with the daughter of the smith for whom he was now an apprentice.

  “Oh well,” I sighed. “The Dancing Faun it is.”

  The rest of the day passed quickly, aided by the fact that by this time of year, there are barely more than two full watches of daylight. This is a boon for those men who love to debauch, since the traditional time to allow men to leave camp is shortly before it gets dark, and this night was no exception. As was normal, we left camp in a group of all but one Centurion, and most of the Optios, talking about the normal things officers discuss among themselves. The missing Centurion was not Volusenus; he was walking with us into town before splitting off to meet his mother, for which he took a fair amount of teasing. Not from me, I would add; I felt I had already had my fun, and it was easy to see that, while he bore it with a certain amount of good humor, just like me, Volusenus did not particularly care for being the object of fun. That it was Cornutus who was missing was neither an accident nor was he missed; he was viewed by the rest of us with a fair amount of suspicion, although not as much because he probably sympathized with the mutineers. So did I, but it was his behavior in trying to avoid being forced to take sides by hiding in his quarters every available moment that did not set well with any of us, for that was what we had heard was the truth behind his actions. Not that we spoke of any of this during our walk into town, since, once the others had their fun with Volusenus, it was time for the Centurions to turn on the newest member of the Centurionate, my old Optio, and in this, I freely confess I was the most vocal, reminding Structus and the other listeners of some of his more embarrassing moments as my Optio. Putting it simply, it was a normal walk into town, on a normal end of the day, albeit emerging from a period of time that was anything but, and I think that is why we were in such high spirits, reveling in this return to the mundane routine that comprises so much of the life of men under the standard. Reaching the edge of the town forum, which had recently been enlarged, Volusenus suddenly pointed across it to where an enclosed carriage was standing motionless.

  “That must be her,” he told us, and I gave him a playful shove, saying, “Go on then. Go see Mama.” I was joined by the others, which made Volusenus flush even more deeply than when he had read her message in the office.

  Macer was the only one who acted with any sense of decorum, telling Volusenus, “Please give your mother regards from your Pilus Prior, Volusenus. I don’t want her thinking that we’re all low-class brutes, after all.”

  “But we are low-class brutes,” Vespillo reminded Macer, then added, “Unlike you and Volusenus; we’re not equestrians, after all.”

  Although the Pilus Posterior said it in a jesting manner, I knew that there was a barb in his words, and I saw Macer did not miss it either, yet another reminder of Vespillo’s unhappiness. It must be said, however, in defense of Vespillo, his displeasure at his status was confined to the odd comment like this, which I believe was more from a sense of taking an opportunity to make some remark, and never impacted his actions or the quality of his obedience to Macer in any way. Which, I believe, is why Macer chose to ignore Vespillo, although I suspect it was also because he knew that by
not responding, that would get under Vespillo’s skin just as much as his jibe had gotten to Macer, a tactic that our Pilus Prior had learned was effective over the years.

  Volusenus was too distracted to notice any of this and merely answered, “I’ll give her your regards, Pilus Prior.”

  Then, walking across the forum, he ignored our calls about not staying up too late or essentially anything that one of us considered witty, while we resumed our own progress. Within a few paces, I had forgotten about Volusenus and was absorbed in talking to Structus, commiserating with him about the challenges of having an inordinately stupid ranker in one’s Century. We were skirting the forum, walking along the row of small temples, one of which was in the process of being refurbished, prior to its consecration as the temple to Divus Augustus, when Macer’s sudden whistle, followed by his exclamation, caught our attention.

  “By the gods,” he gasped, “that’s Volusenus’ mother?”

  I suspect that everyone, when they look back on their lives, have moments that not only seem as if they happened just yesterday, but in the recollection of it, seem to last for much, much longer than they actually did when they happened. Although this one happened recently, I am certain that it will remain every bit as vivid and powerful years from now as it does at this instant; if, of course, I should live that long. Naturally drawn, first to Macer’s low whistle, then his words, I turned my head in his direction, since he was standing on the side of our small group closer to where Volusenus was helping a woman out of the carriage. The light of the day had almost gone, but the slaves who work for the town watch had already begun lighting the torches that ring the forum; regardless of this, I do not think I would have needed any of it, because it was not her face that I noticed first. No, it was something in the manner in which she moved, accepting Volusenus’ hand as he helped her down, that I recognized immediately, not with my eyes as much as with something deep inside me. The closest feeling with which I have any familiarity that I can liken it to is that it felt as if I had been stabbed, directly into my chest and penetrating my heart with such force that I actually staggered back a step. By the time I did so, my mind had caught up, and I saw her face for the first time, just as her foot touched the ground, but it was only a glimpse because, turning slightly, she lifted her face to accept the kiss from Volusenus just before she was swept into his embrace. Perhaps the most powerful image was how, without any effort whatsoever, Volusenus swept his mother off her feet, lifting her up to his level, something I had done with my mother as soon as I was larger than she was; and, with one other woman in my life. Fortunately for me, none of my companions noticed, since all eyes were rightfully on the scene of mother and son reunited.