Marching With Caesar-Pax Romana

by R. W. Peake

  "Then why did you bring it up?" The words were out before I could stop myself, but while Tiburtinus flushed, it was not from anger as much as embarrassment.

  "Because sometimes, I run my mouth and say the wrong thing at the wrong time," he admitted.

  Our Optio showing any kind of remorse for his words was such a rare occasion I felt my mouth drop open in shock; when I glanced at Flaccus, I saw he was no less surprised.

  "Why, Optio," I was happy that Flaccus was the one who spoke, "is that an apology?"

  Tiburtinus' face hardened, and he shot back, "Fuck, no." Then, a glimmer of a smile crossed his lips and he shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

  I cannot say that he meant to make us laugh, but he did and, for the moment, what was facing us was forgotten. Unfortunately, this escape could not last; Urso returned, and in a matter of a few dozen heartbeats, we were marching out of the Porta Praetoria, all of us leaving the camp warning the Centuries left behind to keep their thieving hands off of our possessions. Of course, as any of us with any experience knew, that was a forlorn hope, which was why all those things I considered valuable had been left behind, locked in my strongbox back in Siscia.

  The location of our camp in that spot, as I quickly deduced, was no accident, which also explained the signs of older camps in that same area, because it was next to what was more than a stream yet not quite a river that led deeper into our search area as we followed it upstream. This was our passage into the interior and I could see there was a road, just a beaten path following the course of the stream just wide enough for a wagon with perhaps a pair of outriders on either side, but that was all. One difference that it took me some time to get accustomed to when I transferred to the First was that, whereas in the Fourth, because I was a tiro, and a replacement at that, I was actually in the last rank, although that was not the case now. In the Fourth, even with my height, when we were on the march the packs of the men in front of me obscured my vision for the most part, allowing me to catch only the occasional glimpse of what lay ahead. Now, however, being in the first rank gave me an unobstructed view of what lay ahead; the fact that in the event of an ambush, because of my size and position, I was likely to be one of the first targets was not lost on me either. On that day, as we reached the base of the first of the series of hills and ridges, I could see the road we were using curving off to the left and out of sight, following the course of the water. While the rational part of my mind seriously doubted that the enemy would attempt an ambush just as we were entering this area, our foe undoubtedly understanding this would be a moment where we were at our most alert, I cannot say my heart did not start beating faster. Even before we reached the bend, however, Urso had called for the last section of our Century to run forward, to act as a screen, and provide advance warning. What he did not do was dispatch a section out on the flanks, although that came as no surprise to me because, when my comrades were describing the terrain, they had warned us the slopes were too steep. At least if we did not plan on sacrificing a couple sections of men because they could not possibly hope to keep pace with us, and would probably disappear. Despite knowing this, it did not help my state of mind, nor I imagine the others as well and, very quickly, my neck began to hurt as I kept my eye up the slope to my right. Not, I thought dismally, that it will give us much warning; I could see perhaps twenty paces up the slope before the thick undergrowth screened anything beyond that from view. No command was given for no more talking; it was not needed, making the only sound the crunching of our hobnails, the clinking of metal bits, and the occasional skittering sound of a pebble being kicked by one of us. At that point, the water was not running swiftly, and it was deep enough that it ran silently in the opposite direction, but while that told me we were moving uphill, the slope was so gradual I could not feel it, at least at first. Navigating what turned out to be just the first bend, I was dismayed to see that just about a hundred paces ahead, the stream curved back in the opposite direction, disappearing from sight again. Such was the nature of our progress; curving back and forth, so there was no stretch of more than two hundred paces visible at any given time, while the hills hung over our heads. The only blessing, I remember thinking then, was it was not as bad as the Black Forest, where the trees are so thick they block almost all light. While relatively narrow, this depression formed over only the gods know how long by the stream was too wide for trees to arch over it and block the light, although the sun passing from our right to left was blocked by the shoulders of both ridges for much of the day. And, I reminded myself in an attempt to find something to cheer me up, at least the footing was solid and not the stinking, slimy muck that pulled men down, especially men as heavy as me, up to mid-calf. Unfortunately, that was where the good news ended, and was signaled by our arrival at a spot where another stream intersected with the one we were following. Stopping briefly, Urso called a quick conference with the two Pili Priores, but they made sure to walk far enough away so we could not overhear. As they talked I examined the spot where, I had a sinking feeling, we were going to turn. Comparatively speaking, the difference made this dirt track we were on look like a good Roman road.

  "How the fuck are we supposed to march up that?" I wondered aloud. "And have enough room to fight?"

  "The only way I can see," Avitus replied glumly, "is if we're the lucky bastards who have to wade up that fucking stream."

  Since the intersecting stream that led us deeper into the interior was south of the track, that put it to our right. And while we could barely fit on the first road, even closed up, there was no way for us to do the same on this path without at least Avitus and me wading in the water. Even then, we would barely fit in our normal marching column width, but Urso had thought of that. When he gave us the order, I did not know whether to laugh or cry, because Avitus and I would be spared sloshing upstream for the gods only knew how long. However, in order to do so, Urso ordered that, instead of our normal eight-man-wide marching column, we reduce it down to four men. The benefit was not only would it allow Avitus and I to keep our feet dry, we could do so in a more open, fighting formation than if we remained eight across. It would still be narrower between our files than normal, but it was better than being shoulder to shoulder. Of course, while I was thankful about not getting wet, immediately following was the recognition that, in the event of an ambush from one side or the other we would only be four deep, at the most. If the ambush was planned to hit simultaneously from both sides, however, I would have only Avitus to relieve me, while Sido would be Glabrio's only relief; even worse, it would be next to impossible for men further back along the column to come to our aid. Naturally, the anxiety of a Gregarius about being in a vulnerable position without his accustomed level of support was unlikely as a factor in Urso's decision. Now, with more experience and in a similar position as a Centurion, I understand this was the best choice from an array of bad ones, and thankfully, before I had time to think about it more, we were resuming the march.

  By the time the sun was a hand's width above the hills behind my right shoulder, I doubt we had covered more than three miles; even worse, we had seen no sign of the enemy. The only real blessing as far as I was concerned was that, by halving the width of the column, it was correspondingly even longer, putting the trio of Tribunes, who were marching behind the Second but in front of the Sixth, far enough behind us they either deemed it too far or not worth the trouble to push their way up the column. Of course, the fact that in a last-instant decision, Urso made them leave their horses behind, so they would have been forced to use their legs helped. We stopped once more, except this time, Urso went trotting down the column to save time, while Avitus, Flaccus, Capulo, I and a couple of others huddled together, holding our own discussion.

  "If we don't turn back now," Avitus said glumly, "we're going to be covering the last couple miles back to camp in the dark."

  There was a mumble of agreement from one or two of the others, then I noticed Flaccus did not seem to be one of those whos
e head nodded.

  "What do you think?" I asked him, and the Signifer shifted uncomfortably, but I caught him shoot a look to Capulo, reminding me that standard-bearers tended to be of a like mind. And, they tend to know more than the rest of their comrades.

  "I think," he said finally, "that…"

  "All right, you cunni," Urso's booming voice cut him off, "I don't remember telling you to fall out of the ranks and have a chat!"

  Scrambling guiltily back to our respective spots, I glanced at the Primus Pilus as he strode past to resume his spot, but as always, his face was unreadable. Then, without any hesitation, he gave the order to resume the march, yet continue in the same direction. Avitus and I exchanged a quick glance, his dismay a reflection of my own feeling, although naturally, we did not hesitate, stepping off behind our Primus Pilus. No matter what our personal feelings, we were with him and would support whatever he had decided.

  About a third of a watch after that, we had covered no more than a mile, and it was becoming clear that our Primus Pilus had no intention of marching us back to camp. The only mystery to us was whether he ever had any intention of doing so; somehow, I doubted it, and the events that transpired later proved my assumption was correct. I will say that the spot he chose was probably the best location because it was the widest expanse of what passed for flat ground that we had seen; I had no way of knowing at the time that his choice was no accident because he had been there before. Naturally, this did not come without a corresponding problem; the reason for the widened spot was that there was not one, but two watercourses, although both were dry, intersecting with the one we were traversing. As we approached from the west, the first cut, about the same size as the one we were on, intersected from the north, to our left. Then, perhaps two hundred paces farther along, coming from the south was another cut, slightly wider than the one from the north, but still narrower than the one we used to penetrate into the interior. Compounding the danger, both of these intersecting ravines exhibited the same characteristic of every one of these natural paths, so that because of their serpentine winding, we could not see much farther than a hundred paces up the cut to the left, and barely fifty paces up the cut to the right. Additionally, the cut to the right intersected at such an angle that if we wanted to at least see those fifty paces we would have to station men farther east, along the path we were traveling. While this could be viewed as a positive; any force using the southern cut might be able to get closer before launching an attack, but when they turned back to the west where the widest area, and the bulk of us, was located, they would expose their rear to however many men Urso placed on the far side. Nevertheless, like everything with this situation, it was a double-edged blade. I know that fresh in my mind was Draxo's cunning move with the ambush at The Quarry, so it did not take much imagination to think if we placed men on the opposite side of that cut coming from the south, it was equally likely that Draxo would send men straight down this path we were following from the east to slam into that blocking force's rear. This wider part of the ravine we were following was, relatively speaking, the largest expanse of open ground we had seen since we left the camp, opening out a bit like a bowl, with the surrounding hills acting as the sides. Certainly not large enough for a proper camp with ditches and walls, even for three Cohorts, but comparatively speaking, it was marginally wider than the ravine we had followed originally. At the same time, all of us were acutely aware that, surrounding us were those fucking ridges, their slopes covered in poplar, birch, and a number of other types of trees, along with thickets of thorny bushes and thick clumps of undergrowth. If it had been three months later, it would not have been so bad, since the leaves for most of these trees would be gone, but this was the height of summer, and every piece of vegetation was fully leafed and blooming. Urso directed us in the First, Second, and Third Centuries to march a short distance past the easternmost cut from the south and, as we passed by, since it was to my immediate right, I examined it as closely as I could in the time it took to move past it. What I saw was not pleasing, and that is putting it mildly. While it was true that one could see about fifty paces up the cut before it made what looked like an abrupt turn to the left, just the part that I could see was so choked with shrubs and scrub vegetation that even a warrior with a modicum of ability in stalking could easily navigate even closer, and that was in daylight. The only real question was how many enemies had those skills and could conceivably fit while remaining concealed.

  We were halted by Tiburtinus and, relaying orders from Urso, the Optio ordered us to open our ranks back to their normal spacing, but still only eight men across. However, he also had the first four ranks, meaning the First and Second Section, continue facing eastward, allowing us to ground our shields, but that was all, while the remainder of the men were allowed to turn about to listen to what was expected of them next. Naturally, that meant the decision about our immediate futures was taking place behind our backs, but after Tiburtinus threatened a man in the Second Section with a flogging for insisting on turning around to listen, and using a tone that told us he meant it, we resigned ourselves to finding out later. And, I remember thinking sourly, they'll get a better idea about how this is all going to work. Even with the Second Cohort understrength, there was barely room for three full Cohorts, at least if Urso expected to have any real space between us as we slept. That room is crucial, but not just for comfort or having to worry about the man on either side of you rolling over and bumping into you in the middle of the night to scare the cac out of you. If we were attacked, we needed that space to leap up, arm ourselves, then be able to move wherever we were directed by our Centurions without crashing into each other in the dark. Despite not being able to see what was happening behind me, my ears told me of yet another quarrel, and it did not take much imagination to guess who was objecting to stopping at this spot. Neither could I help noticing how long my shadow was growing in front of me, although I tried to keep my eyes up and scanning the area farther in front of me. Attempting to peer between the trees and undergrowth lining the slope ahead of us, I finally gave up trying to see more than that hundred paces, choosing instead to concentrate on opening my left hand all the way; I could not, but at least my fingers were flexing wider than they did just a few days earlier.

  "All right, First Century! Follow me!" Tiburtinus bellowed as he came walking away from the group of men clustered around the Primus Pilus.

  I turned, except he continued walking past me, not giving us a glance as he headed farther east, advancing along what we had come to think of as the main path. Of course, we did as he ordered, but since he had not given the command to march, we shambled along, while I tried to keep one eye up the slope to my right, as I had been doing all day, while not tripping on the rocky ground. By this point, I would not describe this watercourse that had intersected with the flow we were originally following as a river, and little more than a stream, but it was now running rapidly enough that the noise of the water tumbling down around rocks, a few logs, and the like, partially covered the noise of our movement.

  "Where are we going?" Avitus muttered, but I had no more idea than he did.

  Just once, I glanced over my shoulder, leaning outward so I could see back past the rest of the Century as far as I could, and I was not happy to see the largest portion of our detachment was no longer visible. We had gone beyond yet another bend, yet just when I was about to risk our Optio's wrath, he suddenly stopped, holding up his fist in the signal to halt. We did so, although if it had been on the forum, we would have gotten a tongue-lashing at the very least. Standing with his hands on his hips, Tiburtinus surveyed the ground, his head moving back and forth as he considered matters; at least I assumed he was thinking. Then, he turned about and gave us our orders.

  "Right, we're settling in here for the night. We're going to be here ready in case Draxo or any of those barbarian cunni come from this direction."

  We waited for further orders, but none came; Tiburtinus had turned away by
this point to talk to Flaccus, the only standard-bearer who had come with us, leaving Capulo behind with the main body, while Avitus and I glanced at each other. His expression was probably a reflection of mine, but when I gestured to Tiburtinus in a silent demand to Avitus that he bring up what I knew he was thinking, he adamantly shook his head. Seeing by his body language he would not be swayed, I sighed and turned to where Tiburtinus and Flaccus were still talking quietly, clearing my throat. Which, as I suspected would happen, the pair ignored.

  "Optio?"

  Although I expected Tiburtinus would not respond immediately, choosing to disregard me as a silent message, I was surprised when he turned around; I was not surprised to see he was irritated.

  "What is it, Pullus?"

  Hesitating, I realized that, as usual, I had spoken before forming my thoughts. Feeling his hard stare on me, I did not want to meet his gaze; instead, I pointed down to a small jumble of rocks that had clearly broken loose upslope somewhere and tumbled down.

  "Couldn't we use all these rocks to make a wall to block the ravine? I mean," I hurried on, "if they do come this way."

  "We could," Tiburtinus agreed, surprising me considerably, at least at first, "but we're not going to."

  "But it would slow them down and give us some cover," Avitus spoke up from behind me, another surprise.

  "And tomorrow, when we resume the march, we'd have to knock it down," Tiburtinus replied.

  Fortunately, I was not the one who continued pressing the issue.

  "So?" Avitus argued. "How long would that take? We could tear it down in the morning while we're waiting for the rest of them to meet up with us, since they'll have to head in this direction."

  I sensed that the others were no less shocked than I was that Avitus was not willing to recognize the conversation had clearly ended, and our orders were clear. Tiburtinus did not reply, verbally at least, but he crossed the few feet separating us so quickly that none of us, particularly Avitus, had time to react. From where I stood, what I saw was him flashing across my front, then before I could even turn my head, I heard the smacking sound of Tiburtinus' fist smashing Avitus in the face; I was in time to see Avitus collapse on the ground in a ball, one hand holding his cheekbone.