by R. W. Peake
Also by R.W Peake
Marching with Caesar®- Birth of the 10th
Marching with Caesar-Conquest of Gaul
Marching with Caesar-Civil War
Marching with Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra, Parts I & II
Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus
Marching With Caesar-Last Campaign
Caesar Triumphant
Critical praise for the Marching with Caesar series:
Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony
“Peake has become a master of depicting Roman military life and action, and in this latest novel he proves adept at evoking the subtleties of his characters, often with an understated humour and surprising pathos. Very highly recommended.”
Marching With Caesar-Civil War
"Fans of the author will be delighted that Peake’s writing has gone from strength to strength in this, the second volume...Peake manages to portray Pullus and all his fellow soldiers with a marvelous feeling of reality quite apart from the star historical name... There’s history here, and character, and action enough for three novels, and all of it can be enjoyed even if readers haven’t seen the first volume yet. Very highly recommended."
~The Historical Novel Society
“The hinge of history pivoted on the career of Julius Caesar, as Rome’s Republic became an Empire, but the muscle to swing that gateway came from soldiers like Titus Pullus. What an amazing story from a student now become the master of historical fiction at its best.”
~Professor Frank Holt, University of Houston
Marching With Caesar®
Rebellion
By R.W. Peake
Marching with Caesar Rebellion by R.W. Peake
Copyright © 2014 by R.W. Peake
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by Marina Shipova
Cover Artwork Copyright © 2014 R. W. Peake
All Rights Reserved
For Julius Caesar and Titus Pullus
Veni, Vidi, Vici
Foreword
This book, Marching with Caesar®-Rebellion, marks a departure for me in more than one way.
Not only is it the first of this series that isn’t written in the first person, it also is the first book after Titus Pullus’ story. Probably not surprisingly, the combination of these two factors make me somewhat nervous.
It was surprisingly difficult for me to say goodbye to Titus Pullus, but when I embarked on this journey in telling his story, unlike Bernard Cornwell did with his brilliant (and one of my favorite) Sharpe series, I didn’t leave any “wiggle room” to tell further adventures about the Roman who will always be my favorite character, no matter where this adventure takes me.
Another challenge in picking up the story, basically where it was left, was in the paucity of primary sources that talk about the beginning of the career of Tiberius and Drusus Claudius Nero; there are about two pages from Dio that discuss what marked the first campaign in which Tiberius was in overall command, the quelling of the rebellion in Rhaeti and Noricum. More specifically, there is one sentence devoted to his stratagem of crossing a lake to inflict a decisive defeat on the rebels. After poring over maps, I think the most likely location is the lake called Brigantinus (Lake Constance), where the city of Brigantium, or Bregenz is located. I suppose it could just as easily have been Genava (Geneva) and that lake, but I suspect that if that had been the case, Dio would have mentioned it and its relation to the famous wall erected by Gaius Julius Caesar at the southern end. However, I fully acknowledge that this is just a guess.
Also, for narrative purposes, I am being a bit vague on dates, particularly as it pertains to the end of Titus Pullus’ career, and when the rebellion in Rhaetia and Noricum occurred, which was 15 BC. For that, I beg the indulgence of the reader.
One of the most interesting aspects of this period of Roman history, now that the reign of Augustus has been firmly established, is in the politicization of the Legions. When one reads accounts of this period, and the previous Republican period, carefully, what I found fascinating was in the behavior of what had previously been the stalwarts of the Roman army, the Centurions. In Caesar’s account of the Gallic campaign, for example, for the most part the men who lost their nerve and acted in a fashion unbecoming to a man of the Legions were usually Legates and Tribunes. It’s not until the Imperial Period, where accounts of Centurions, or Camp Prefects, acting in a craven and cowardly manner, start to surface.
While some might consider it a leap, I don’t believe it’s a very far one to argue that this shift was due to Augustus’ practice of putting men into positions of authority based not on their war record, but in their political reliability. Now that I know what I do about Augustus, it doesn’t surprise me all that much; he was much more politician and administrator than warrior, and I can’t help wondering how many of the military setbacks Rome suffered could have been avoided if he had assigned men to the Centurionate based on what kind of leaders they were, and not how loyal they were to him.
Ironically enough, even that practice didn’t stop the habit of Legions selling themselves to the highest bidder, and I would argue that it probably made that very thing more likely. When you put soldiers who are more concerned with being on the right side into power than in doing their duty, bad things happen.
As always, I would be remiss if I didn’t take the time to thank the fantastic team who has given me so much help in making the Marching with Caesar® series what it is. To my advance readers: Joe Corso, who has the keenest eye in spotting my many mistakes and always gives me great insight into what a reader might think; Stu MacPherson, one of the first and someone whose depth and breadth of knowledge, not just of the period in which I write, but in my fellow authors who love Rome as much as I do; and David St. Laurent, another brother Marine who stepped into the place of my dear, departed friend Robert (Curtis) Graham, MSgt. USMC (Ret), I thank each of you for your insight and comments.
To my long-suffering, ever-patient and eagle-eyed editor, Beth Lynne, and to Marina Shipova, who once more created a cover that tells the story before a reader opens the book, thank you seems so paltry to what you give me in support.
Finally, I want to thank all of the readers and I hope that you will follow me into this new chapter of Marching with Caesar®, and get to know the men and women who will carry the story forward, into the Empire.
Semper Fidelis,
R.W. Peake
March 9, 2014
Marching with Caesar: Rebellion
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Prologue
The Centurion had been trained well, and he was experienced in his own right. At this point in Rome's history, it hadn't yet become common practice for Centurions to be in their posts because they purchased the position, and despite his youthful appearance, this Centurion had earned his way into the Centurionate. Nevertheless, this was the first time the Centurion had been in overall command, completely independent of higher authority, so he could be forgiven for his case of nerves on this occasion. He was a Pilus Prior, the Centurion of the First Century of a Cohort, which also meant that he was the commander of the Cohort. In this Centurion's case, it was the Fourth Cohort, which, as had been the practice of Roman armies going back as long as anyone could remember, was usually placed in the first
rank of a Legion's battle line. Ever since the time of Gaius Julius Caesar, or as he was known now, Divus Julius, because of his status as a god, when a Legion arrayed for battle, they did so in the acies triplex, three ordered lines, consisting of four Cohorts in the front line, supported by three in the other two lines. Within the first line, the Fourth Cohort, under normal circumstances, found itself anchoring the left flank of, at the very least, the entire Legion, if not the entire army in the field.
Men selected to be a Pilus Prior of any of the first-line Cohorts were leaders of exceptional qualities and abilities, and this was especially true when the Cohort had become the basic unit of maneuver, sent out on independent operations such as this one. There had to be a first time for everything, the Centurion realized, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking, and this was certainly the case when it came to him. He had arisen this morning to find that his stomach rebelled at the very idea of food in it, and was just barely able to keep a cup of posca, the spiced wine that some favored as a way to start their day, in his stomach. Fortunately, he found that once he actually started the process of rousing the men of his Century, relying on the Centurions under his command to do the same, the familiarity of a daily routine helped to calm his nerves. Then, he had been so busy in making sure that every man of not just his Century, but the entire Cohort, had turned out carrying the necessary gear and was loaded down with the proper amount of rations for this operation that he didn't have time to be nervous.
Now the day was drawing to a close, and he was leading his Cohort towards the spot where the exploratores, those roving men who served as scouts, for both the enemy and for things like good sites for a camp, had told him was the right place for the Cohort to spend a night. Like any ambitious man, he had been excited and happy that he and the men of his Cohort had finally been chosen for an independent mission, even if he didn't care for the task itself. The province for which his Cohort and Legion were responsible for keeping under control was Pannonia, but maintaining the peace had proven to be quite a challenge. The man known as Augustus had supposedly tamed the wild tribesmen of this hilly, rugged country, but there was a running joke that made the rounds of the army stationed there that, if that was the case, Augustus had forgotten to inform the tribesmen of it. Although it couldn't be called open hostilities, from the viewpoint of the Centurion, and his men, it was a situation where the fighting had been punctuated by periods of peace and quiet. And as predictable as the changing of the seasons, another tribe had risen up, but this one was one of the strongest, the Daesitiates, although it was just one branch of them. That was why the Legate in command of what was known as the Army of Pannonia had decreed that it would take just a Cohort to march out and, in an operation he didn't believe would last more than a week, teach these barbarians another lesson.
The Pilus Prior had at his disposal an ala of cavalry, but they were composed of auxiliaries that he viewed as little better than the tribes against which they were marching, and they had vanished earlier in the day. This could mean anything, the Centurion understood; they could have found themselves struggling with the terrain, which was growing increasingly rugged. Or they could be dead already, and it was this thought that kept crowding into the Pilus Prior's brain as he marched at the head of his Cohort. Ranging perhaps a stadia ahead of him were two sections of men from his Century, each section charged with scanning both flanks for any possible threats. Ahead of them rode a half-dozen men from the ala who had been left behind, while another half-dozen were performing essentially the same job as the rearguard. Unfortunately, the task of guarding the flanks had been growing increasingly difficult with every mile they traveled and, according to what the Pilus Prior had been told, the forest terrain they had just entered lasted for about two miles. Once out of that, the site selected for the camp was a little more than a mile farther, and it took an effort of will for the Pilus Prior not to quicken his pace, knowing that at the end of this march was the work needed to make camp. Under normal circumstances, taking this track through the forest wasn't what the Pilus Prior would do, but this land was so rugged that the only alternative would have been to climb up the slopes of the hills that lined their direction of travel. It might have gotten them clear of the cover provided by the heavy undergrowth underneath the trees, but the jagged, rocky terrain would have slowed them down so much that they might as well have been standing still, and they never would have reached the selected site with enough daylight to make camp. Normally, building a camp in the dark didn't pose much of a challenge, provided the men didn't also have to worry about a volley of arrows or a sudden attack from the gloom. In short, the Pilus Prior had made what he considered to be the least bad choice of the poor ones available to him. Now he just had to hope that he hadn't made the wrong one.
Within a quarter mile of entering the forest, the slight depression of the track the Cohort was following was just barely visible, from a combination of the sun being blocked by the shoulder of a hill, but more from the thick, overhanging branches of the trees that crowded right up to the twin ruts of the track. The Pilus Prior had been informed that this track was going to be turned into a good Roman road at some point in the future, but it didn't help him at that moment. Between the gloom and the rough ground, he had to pay more attention to where his feet were stepping than continuing to scan for any threat. Behind him, he could hear the sudden jangling sound that told him one of the rankers had tripped, as the gear suspended by the pole each man carried jarred together. Sometimes, there was also a louder crash as the unfortunate lost his balance altogether and fell, which was always followed by a curse, although it was usually overpowered by a chorus of laughter as the victim's comrades enjoyed his misfortune. The Centurion didn't mind, as long as it didn't get out of hand, and he only had to turn about once to glare at the men of his Century for them to receive the message. Every so often, he would pause and step to the side of the marching column, looking down the neat rows of men, at this moment marching four abreast because of the narrowness of the track.
In between each Century was a gap of perhaps fifty paces, the delineation marked by the presence of the signiferi carrying their Century standards, the men like the Pilus Prior wearing the transverse crest of the Centurion next to them. Because of the rough ground, the standards bobbed up and down even more than normal, but even with this, the sight of so many men marching in unison, legs naturally moving in step with each other, even when they weren't required to keep in cadence during a route march like this, stirred the Pilus Prior every time he saw it. Despite the muted light, stray rays from the sun broke through the leafy foliage above them to bounce off a helmet here, or the point of a javelin there, creating a winking display that rippled along the length of the entire column.
Turning back from his latest inspection of his Cohort, the Pilus Prior noticed that the track ahead seemed to be sinking, but he quickly saw that it wasn't because it was sloping downward. Instead, over the years, the track had gradually sunk into the ground, but while it wasn't really any different than the part they had already traversed, it appeared that it followed a natural groove formed by the shoulders of two low hills meeting. On both sides of the track, the ground sloped upward, although it was still heavily overgrown, and as the Centurion drew closer, he saw that the slope on his right was steeper than the one on his left, although not by much. The track itself made a gentle curve to the left, blocking his view of what lay ahead, and it was this combination of things that gave the Pilus Prior a sense of unease and made him even more alert. At least, that was what he believed to be the case when thinking about it afterwards.
Once past the bend in the track, the Pilus Prior could see, barely, what looked like a circle of bright light, framed by green around the top half, and dark brown around the bottom half, and he knew he was seeing where the track left the forest. Somewhat to his dismay, however, the track still appeared to be sunken for at least as far as he could distinguish. He estimated that they still had more than a mi
le to go before they left the forest, and he was so absorbed in this that he almost missed it, although the truth was that he might have overlooked it even if he had been watching in the right direction. As it was, it was above his natural eye level, despite the fact that he was much taller than the average Roman. Yet, because of the slope, it was even higher, so that even when he did see it, the Centurion continued walking for a few paces as his mind registered not just what his eyes had seen, but what it meant. Nevertheless, it took another moment for him to act, and when he did so, it was actually to turn about and shout the command to halt the column. As was usual with a column consisting of six Centuries, the command had to be relayed, so there wasn't the same precision as if they were marching in the forum of camp. Starting with the Pilus Prior's Century, the column rippled to a halt, and even before the movement was completely finished, the Pilus Prior had his cornicen blow the notes that told the Centurions of the Cohort to come meet with the Pilus Prior. The five men came quickly trotting up to where he was still standing, seemingly absorbed in studying the foliage of a set of trees up the slope to the right of the column. His behavior seemed so odd that the Pilus Posterior, in command of the Second Century and the second in command of the Cohort commented on it.
"Did you decide to stop and count the leaves on the tree?" he joked, but in answer, the Pilus Prior pointed.
