Marching With Caesar-Pax Romana

by R. W. Peake

  "Good to see you this morning, Pullus," he said. "Are you ready for a little…adventure?"

  More bewildered than anything, I cannot remember exactly what I said, something along the lines that I was ready for anything. Which, as I well knew, was what he wanted to hear, even if it was not the truth. Especially, I remember thinking, if it's not the truth. Without saying anything more, he sidestepped into his normal spot then, just loudly enough to be heard, gave the command to march. Obeying instantly, we stepped off as he guided us to the Porta Decumana, not the Porta Praetoria, my first hint that whatever we were about to do was probably not official. Or legal, for that matter.

  Moving quickly out of the camp, we bypassed Siscia, which was just beginning to start its day. Once past the town, we turned south; again, nothing was said outside of the order given by Urso when we came to the fork in the road. What was even stranger to me was that, even with such a relatively small group, there was nobody talking, despite the fact that Urso had not given us an order one way or another to keep our mouths shut. Even before I noticed this, I was determined to keep my mouth shut, not least because of who was marching next to me. As usual, I was on the far right, again in the first rank, meaning that Urso marched right next to me, itself unusual because neither Capulo, Flaccus, nor the standard-bearers of the other two Centuries that comprised this party were present. Consequently, the only sound was the crunching of our boots on the stone surface of the road, then when we came to another junction, instead of continuing south along this native road that had yet to be Romanized, we turned right, heading west. Growing up as I had for at least part of my childhood, in Siscia, I was a child of the frontier and I knew that we were headed into lands held by the Colapiani. They had been another of the more recalcitrant tribes in Pannonia; granted there is not much of a distinction, although things had been quiet with them for some time. There had been talk of establishing an outpost at a spot deep in their lands, somewhere along the Colapis (Kupa) River, but to that point, that was all it was: talk. About two-thirds of a watch after we left, we passed through what at that time was the last Roman settlement, a speck of a place of about a dozen buildings that was home to the stonecutters who worked at a quarry located adjacent to the settlement. It did not even have a name, unless one considered "The Quarry" a name, but this was the extent of the Roman presence then; beyond that were only scattered farmhouses, home to settlers, mostly veterans, who scratched out a living among unfriendly Pannonians. The best that could be said for this part of Pannonia was that it had lapsed into an uneasy peace, which nobody I knew wanted to see disrupted. That is why I still cannot understand what Urso was thinking.

  It was midday when we arrived at what only then did I learn was our destination. For that part of the world, it was actually a decent-sized town, situated on the banks of a branch of the Colapis, which was running in a roughly north/south direction at this location. The style of the buildings, along with the seemingly haphazard way in which they were arranged on both sides of the river, marked this as a spot that had yet to accept and adjust to the Romanization of Pannonia. Situated on a low hill overlooking the valley on the eastern side of the river was what I assumed was the home of the local headman of this branch. On the crest of the hill was a low, squat yet fairly substantial hall that is typical of the barbarian tribes, but what made it slightly different was the height and the stoutness of the wooden log wall that surrounded it. For even a properly equipped Cohort, storming that place would be bloody, and we had not brought any tools that would be needed to construct scaling ladders, let alone brought enough men. Unfortunately, I did not have the luxury or time to look more carefully at the hall because we marched past the hill, stopping only when we reached what passes for a forum in barbarian towns. Although I was not surprised at the people, all of them members of barbarian tribes, I was made uneasy by how many of them there were. I did see there were some Varciani there, looking like they were there to do some trading, perhaps, with two carts loaded with what appeared to be furs. This seemed to be more than just a random village, something I was about to have confirmed. Also not surprisingly, all the activity that had been going on suddenly ceased, people literally dropping whatever they were doing to watch us crash to a halt.

  Without saying anything other than to allow us to stand at ease, Urso beckoned to Cossus, and the pair walked off, leaving us behind.

  Despite my loathing, both for the man and the fact I had to query him about anything, I turned and asked Philo, "Where are we? And what are we doing here?"

  The Sergeant's battered face twisted as he shot me a malicious grin, although he did reply.

  "What's the matter, rich boy? Are you scared to be in the middle of a bunch of savages? I thought you were a big hero!" He paused, then shrugged as it if made no difference to tell me, "As far as where we're at, I can't pronounce the name of it; you know these fucking barbarian languages. But why we're here?" The evil grin came back, and when he laughed, it sounded like he was actually delighted that he could finish, "That's none of your fucking business, is it, Gregarius?"

  His emphasis on my lowly status, contrary to reminding me that I was technically outranked, spurred me to shoot back, "Except what we're doing isn't exactly on the books, is it? I mean," I admit I exaggerated looking to my right, where Capulo should have been, "it's not like we're under the standard, are we? So, why don't you go fuck yourself, Sergeant?"

  Philo's face flushed a deep red, and he pivoted as if he was about to lunge at me, then Caecina grabbed him by the shoulder, as usual making it seem like a big jest. "Oy, Sergeant. We don't want to have a scuffle in front of these bastards, do we? Especially because of what we came for, right? It might give them ideas if they see us squabbling between ourselves."

  Philo relented, but he scowled at me and muttered, "I'll sort you out later."

  "You've been saying that for months now, but I'm just as 'unsorted' as I was when I showed up."

  It was an extremely reckless, and stupid, thing to say, but as I have mentioned, I can be…impulsive, and usually at the worst time. Somehow, though, Philo confined himself to giving me a murderous gaze and nothing more. Seeing that, for the moment, I had nothing to worry about from my Sergeant, I leaned to look past him at Caecina.

  "You're more talkative than he is," I said, giving him a grin as I thought, two people can smear honey on a turd, "and you probably know at least as much as he does, probably more. So, why are we here?"

  Caecina did laugh, but this time, it sounded forced.

  "It's true I like to chat," he admitted, "but I'm also a good Gregarius who knows when to keep his mouth shut. And this is one of those times."

  Disappointed that he was going to remain silent, I was about to straighten up when he added, "But what I will tell you is that this isn't the first time we've been here and I doubt it will be the last. And the name of this place is…" he paused as he thought about it, and finally came up with, "Topucalva. At least, I think."

  That got my attention, because I was familiar with the name of the town.

  "Wait!" I exclaimed. "This is Topulcava? I corrected his mispronunciation.

  Looking about, I suddenly made sense of what I was seeing. I had thought this was an exceptionally large village, but that is because it was not just a village; in effect, this was the home of the man who claimed kingship over the Colapiani. This was, in effect, their seat of power. And that meant that there would be a higher percentage of warriors than could normally be expected.

  Something in my tone prompted Caecina to notice, and he said, "That clearly means something to you, Pullus. What do we need to know?"

  I leaned over to look at him and grinned.

  "Nothing, remember? As our Sergeant said, we don't need to know anything."

  For a heartbeat, just one, Caecina's mask of good humor slipped, and the coldness that was always in his one good eye took over the rest of his face, but although he recovered quickly, the smile he gave back held nothing good in it.
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  "Fair enough," he said softly, then stood up straight, as did I.

  Although we stood there, relatively motionless, with only quick snatches of whispered conversation, the townspeople of Topulcava were anything but idle. By the time Urso and Cossus had climbed the hill to the rough-hewn gate enclosing what I now understood was the royal palace of the Colapiani, a crowd of several hundred barbarians had gathered. That, in itself, was not all that unusual; life in a small town is boring, no matter who the town belongs to, yet what did worry me, and when I gave a sidelong glance at Philo, I saw he was no less troubled, was that at least half of the crowd was composed of men. And not tradesmen, if one takes my meaning. None of them were wearing their armor, it is true, but they all wore either their swords, or carried a spear, and in some cases I saw men with large axes strapped to their backs. At first, they were content just to watch us, remaining silent for the most part, yet much like with us, there was a buzzing sound of muttered conversation. Unfortunately, that was not destined to last, as I heard a man's voice utter what I recognized was an oath in the Colapiani dialect of the Pannonian tongue that was, shall we say, not kind to our mothers. And, as any Legionary who has been in Siscia for at least a campaign season does, the first words in the native tongue we pick up are invariably those that are not suitable for polite company. Behind me, I heard a hiss as someone sucked in a breath in anger at the slur. Of course, that was just the first one as, no doubt emboldened by our lack of response, the imprecations and curses began coming with more frequency and higher volume.

  "Easy boys," I heard a voice come from about the third rank behind me. "You know they're just trying to get us to do something stupid."

  The unseen Legionary's words had the desired effect, although I caught myself glancing over at Philo and thinking, shouldn't you be the one saying that? However, he looked too preoccupied with watching the crowd, which had just begun to flow around our small formation, to think of doing his job.

  The dirt clod that bounced at my feet, breaking apart and showering my lower legs, came from deeper in the crowd. My first thought was that I was thankful that it was just dirt; naturally, the moment this entered my mind, the composition of the missiles changed, as the first of what looked like a fresh horse turd flew from the rear of the crowd to splatter against Philo's shield. Naturally, flecks of manure sprayed on both of us so that, for a brief instant, we were of a like mind, cursing whoever it was who had thrown it. Behind me, I heard a shout of disgust, but I refrained from turning about, understanding if I did that I would make a tempting target to receive a face full of cac, and the best I could hope for would be that it belonged to an animal. The air quickly filled with flying fecal matter, and it was not long before the smell told us that they were now hurling their own waste at us. Without any order given, we all moved automatically into a testudo, the men in the middle lifting their arms to protect us from the Colapiani who were arcing their stinking missiles into our midst. Someone behind me growled in frustrated anger, prompting me to shoot a glance at Philo, whose shield was sheltering the two of us from the front while, being on the far right, I had to extend my left arm across my body to protect our flank.

  "You need to do something," I yelled at Philo. "If this keeps up, someone is going to…."

  "Shut your mouth," he snarled. "I'm trying to think!"

  "Think about what?" I demanded. "Do you think the Primus Pilus is going to forgive us if one of us can't take it anymore and wades into this mob? And maybe you haven't noticed, they outnumber us by about three to one!"

  "I said, shut UP!" He literally screamed this at me, but it was easy to see that he was close to panic.

  Fortunately for all of us, both Colapiani and Roman, before things could get out of hand, I heard a roared command, at least that is what I assume it was because it was in Colapiani, although it was quickly followed by a bellow that all the Romans instantly recognized as belonging to Urso.

  "Detachment, intente!"

  It is often hard to describe the level of discipline that is expected from a Legionary of Rome; perhaps what occurred immediately following Urso's command is the best example. By assuming the position of intente, we had to move our shields to our sides and sidestep back into our normal spacing, making us perfect targets for the crowd, provided they did not immediately obey what I assumed was the command of the Colapiani chieftain. And, being completely honest, I, for one, would have preferred that whatever came our way was in the shape of a rock and not a turd. Fortunately, the hold the Colapiani chieftain held over his people was such that they obeyed almost as quickly as we did, with one exception, and I would be lying if I said that I was displeased at the result brought about by one recalcitrant tribesman, even taking into account that I was one of the "casualties." But while I saw what looked like a pile of cac that would have done a bear proud arcing in our direction, I did not flinch and neither did Philo, even when he took the stinking barrage fully in the face, splattering my left arm in the process. However, while he did not make any attempt to dodge the cac, no amount of discipline could stop him from staggering backward, gagging and reaching up to wipe the filth from his face. The man immediately behind him, from the Second Section, reacted instinctively, stepping out of the way, thereby jostling the Gregarius to his left, causing a ripple effect that threatened to sunder the formation.

  "The next man that moves I'll personally flog! By the gods, you're fucking Legionaries of Rome! Stop acting like a bunch of women!"

  Urso's voice cracked like a whip above our heads, and we reacted instantly, even Philo, who staggered back next to me, coughing and retching as he resumed his former position next to me. Meanwhile, I got my first look at the Colapiani chieftain as he circled around to stand between us and the crowd, his back to us. I do not know why, but I was quite surprised when I saw a man who was actually my size, matching me not only in height, but in the same breadth across the shoulders.

  And I was not the only one who noticed, as I heard what I recognized as Caecina's voice, despite the fact that he whispered just loudly enough for me to hear, "Pullus, are you sure you know who your father is?"

  The only small consolation I could take was that, while I heard more than one man snicker, one of them was not Philo, who was more occupied with not puking. He had managed to wipe some of the excrement from his face, but was still gagging at frequent intervals. While I was angered by Caecina's taunt, I nevertheless stood there immobile, keeping my eyes on the back of the Colapiani chieftain. In the style of the Pannonian tribes, his iron gray hair was long but pulled flat against his skull, the length of it tied into a knot. Whereas the Suebi also tie their long hair into a knot, they wear it on the top of their heads or to one side, but this man had his fastened on the back of his head. Since he was not dressed for war, he was wearing a brightly painted vest that kept his arms bare, which were decorated with tattoos arranged in a pattern of swirls from the shoulder down that I am sure had some sort of significance. He wore bracae, as all the barbarian tribes do in this part of the world, but even those were stretched tight because of his massive thighs. For just an instant, I felt a flicker of envy; even with my size, I am acutely conscious that my thighs and calves are not in proportion to my upper body, something that I have given up trying to correct. I suppose this is the part of me that most physically resembles my father and not my Avus, but fortunately, it does not make it any easier for a foe to knock me off my feet. While the chieftain was haranguing his tribe, who stood there silently absorbing his tongue-lashing with sullen expressions, Urso had moved to stand in front of us.

  "Clean yourself up, Philo." Urso's lip curled in disgust, but then he pointed at me. "You help him, Pullus."

  Instead of making me move, I froze in my position, causing Urso to glare at me, but while he did not raise his voice, neither did he need to do so to sound menacing.

  "I gave you an order, Gregarius."

  "Yes, Primus Pilus. I understand and will obey."

  This was uttered
through clenched teeth, but I was moving as I said it. Stepping to Philo's side, I removed my neckerchief and handed it to him, resigning myself to having my armor chafe my neck the rest of the day, or longer if we were going to be away for more than that. Shooting a sidelong glance at Urso to see if he expected me to do more than surrender my neckerchief and actually tenderly wipe the cac from Philo's face, I saw he had turned away to address the Colapiani chieftain, who had just finished whatever he had been telling the crowd. Stepping back into my spot and resuming my intente, I strained to hear what was being said, but the barbarian and our Primus Pilus were speaking in low tones. Now that he had turned to face me, I got a good look at the Colapiani chieftain. His face was seamed by the weather, but when he talked, I saw that he had surprisingly good teeth for a man his age. Piercing eyes were fixed on Urso, who he towered over just as I did, yet as with me, our Primus Pilus showed no sign of being intimidated. If anything, it seemed to me that the barbarian was the one who, while not exhibiting any sign of fear, was being cautious, as if he was face to face with a wolf who was even then trying to decide whether to pounce or not. What I was not prepared for was the moment when, suddenly, the two clasped arms, yet even as they did so, I could see there was nothing friendly in either of their demeanors. This led me to believe that this was a formal agreement of some sort, much like men who conclude a deal make between each other do so in our forum, in public so that both sides can see that matters have been concluded. From the reaction of the men around me, sensed rather than seen since I was still at intente, if this had been the expected outcome, they were still relieved, as I was, despite not having any idea what was going on. All I knew was that, as formidable as the men of the First Cohort of a veteran Legion are, there were many, many more of them than us. And I held little doubt that if things did deteriorate into fighting that the women, children, and old people would not be non-combatants; a rock hurled by a strong child or old person would still cause damage, not to mention the ignominy of falling at the hands of either one. Then, just as we were beginning to relax, Urso said something else and whatever it was caused the chieftain to stiffen, his expression suddenly turning into one that told me he was not just angry, but clearly enraged.