by R. W. Peake
"Because," I answered quietly, "you picked the wrong man to follow."
It had become so quiet that I could pick out the sounds of every man in the hut breathing, and I knew they had dropped all pretense of not paying attention to this drama being played out in front of them. And I did not blame any of them, since this had a direct impact on their lives; it did not make me feel any more comfortable.
Caecina did not answer immediately, regarding me with a narrowed eye, but when he broke the quiet air, I sensed he had decided to brazen it out.
"The wrong man?" he asked quizzically, cocking his head in a manner that reminded me of a dog I had once when he was trying to understand what I was saying. "I don't know what you mean, Gregarius. I follow the orders given to me by my superiors. Men," he pointed out, "who have been lawfully promoted by Rome."
"Like our new Optio," I retorted, and I saw I had scored a blow as he actually flinched. "Who was…"
"Forced on the Primus Pilus," Caecina cut me off, then pointed an accusing finger, "by your former Pilus Prior."
My heart started beating harder, and I thought to myself that if Caecina had worked this out for himself, this quickly, he was indeed a dangerous man. At the same time, I also decided that two could play the game of appearing confident.
"Now," I asked him, trying to sound surprised, "how could the Quartus Pilus Prior force the Primus Pilus to do anything? And even if he did, why would he take me into his confidence?"
"Because you were seen going to visit Corvinus," Caecina shot back, "then all of this cac happened, and the Primus Pilus is clearly in some sort of trouble." He seemed to have regained the momentum of his indignation, pointing down to me again, much in the way I imagine a prosecutor would point at the accused. "And the only thing that those two have in common is you! The Primus Pilus honored you by bringing you here, to the First Century of the First Cohort! Not only to the First, but the First Section! Our section," he swept his arm around the hut, "and this is how you repay him! By plotting with his most bitter enemy!"
That was the first moment I realized not all of Caecina's ire and hostility was feigned, nor was it all about Urso's off-duty activities. Even now, after all these years, having thought about this period of time in my life a great deal, I still believe the bigger issue for Caecina had to do with what he viewed as my betrayal of a man he not only respected, but admired a great deal. In one area, I now admit I had misjudged Gaius Caecina, and that he was not purely an opportunistic criminal who viewed our Primus Pilus as a source of income and favor; in his own way, he loved and was loyal to Urso. But sitting there in the moment, my mind was grappling with the more immediate question concerning this interrogation; this recognition of Caecina's purer motive was only partially formed in that moment. What I was concerned with at the moment was the manner in which Caecina had characterized Corvinus.
"His most bitter enemy?" I asked, and I was not feigning the bemusement in my voice. "I know they're not fond of each other, but I'd hardly call them enemies."
"Please," Caecina retorted scornfully, "don't continue to insult my intelligence. It's getting tiresome, Pullus. You, of all people, should know their history, and how far back it goes! After all, your father was involved in it!"
It is difficult to describe in words because I have never seen it happen from the outside, as it were, but I have been told I have a facial expression that gives those around me a warning that the terrible rage trapped within me is about to burst forth. That must have been what happened in that moment, because I did not answer immediately, while the look I gave Caecina evaporated his expression of scornful anger, and he took a step backward, moving just out of reach.
"What," I asked quietly, "are you trying to say, Caecina?" Saying it aloud broke the dam inside me, unleashing the flood of anger that, I have come to learn, was created by all the circumstances and horrible events done to my family and people I loved, for no other reason than the small group of men who run Rome decided that my Avus was overreaching, no matter how much he had done for them. I do not remember doing it, but I was suddenly standing. "What are you accusing my father of?"
"N-nothing." Caecina put his hands out, except I was not appeased in the slightest, and I took a step towards Caecina, who took a corresponding step backward, running straight into his bunk and unable to go any farther.
Titus, be careful. Don't do anything stupid. Keep that beast under control. If you give in to it, they win. Don't let them finish their revenge on your family.
I do not know who was more surprised, but I do know who was the most relieved when I abruptly stopped advancing on Caecina and stepped backward to the bench and sat back down. However, I think we were equally shaken; Caecina realizing he had gone too far but escaping being beaten to death, while I tried to understand from where the warning in my head, spoken with a voice not my own, but one I recognized, had come.
"I-I seriously meant no disrespect to your father." Caecina's voice was shaky, and I cannot lie, the quality of his fearful tone made me feel better than the words themselves. "All I meant was that your father was their Pilus Prior, and had to be aware of the enmity that Corvinus held, and still holds for the Primus Pilus."
"Even if that's true, how does it follow that I'm aware of it, or involved?"
"Because you visit Corvinus all the time," Caecina shot back, and I saw that he was regaining his senses, and the indignation was clearly coming back. "And we're supposed to believe that he didn't enlist you to help bring down the Primus Pilus?"
Trying to think clearly during what was the most confusing conversation of my life to that point was proving increasingly difficult. However, I was beginning to get the sense that, despite what Caecina was trying to present as facts that he already knew the answer to, he was actually probing for information, still trying to determine the truth behind the Primus Pilus' apparent predicament.
"You keep saying Corvinus is trying to destroy the Primus Pilus, but what proof do you have of that?" I demanded. "If you're going to make an accusation like that, you better have more proof than some weak porridge of an excuse that Corvinus holds some sort of grudge against Urso that goes back ten years."
"You know he doesn't like being called that," Caecina snapped, but while seemingly inconsequential, it told me a great deal about the depth of loyalty my Sergeant held towards our Primus Pilus.
Nevertheless, seeing that it nettled him meant that I was not about to relent.
Shrugging, I said, "That's how I've always known him. And," I added, "I've known him almost all my life. And while I'm young, that still means longer than you."
"That doesn't matter," Caecina almost shouted. Then, he seemed to realize I had thrown him off again, and he took a deep breath. "But that's also beside the point. And I can assure you that Corvinus has more than a grudge against the Primus Pilus." He paused, and I sensed he was considering how much to divulge. Finally, he said, "The reason Corvinus hates the Primus Pilus and wants to see him ruined is because they were competitors."
I considered this for a moment, but then I shook my head.
"That makes no sense," I argued. "I mean, yes, Centurions are competitors for the same position higher up the ladder at some point, and they're all competitive about making their Centuries or Cohorts better than the rest, but to say that Corvinus wants to ruin the Primus Pilus doesn't make sense. Even if he was successful and got Urso relieved, that doesn't mean he'll be the favorite pick to replace him. In fact," I concluded, "his odds wouldn't be very good, because the usual man promoted is either the Primus Pilus Posterior, or one of the Pili Priores from the first line. Granted, he's one of those, but that's a one in ten chance."
"And yet, where did the Primus Pilus come from when he was promoted?" Caecina countered and, despite myself, I felt a flush creeping up my face.
"That's true," I admitted grudgingly, "but that was also different," I insisted. "The circumstances around that were unique." Suddenly, I realized that it was not likely that Caecina, o
r anyone else, for that matter, knew about all that was involved with the elevation of the Quartus Pilus Posterior, the second in command of the Fourth Cohort, all the way to the top post of the Legion. "But all I'm going to say about it is that it was…" I paused, but Caecina interjected.
"Unique," he said dryly. "Yes, you mentioned that. And I suppose it makes sense that you know more about what happened than any of us do. Regardless, it did happen. But," his voice changed, regaining part of its edge, "it also happens that that's not what I was referring to when I said Corvinus was a competitor to the Primus Pilus."
In the amount of time it took him to say it, I was back to being baffled. In retrospect, I wish I had remained that way.
"If that's not what you're talking about, what is it?"
"I mean," Caecina replied, "that Corvinus had his own…business, on the side." He gave a shrug that I could see was completely contrived. "But the Primus Pilus is just a better businessman, and Corvinus'…customers," he smiled at his own wit, "went with the better deal. Corvinus didn't take it well."
There was no way for me to accurately judge how long the silence lasted, but it was a fair amount of time, simply because it took my mind that long to comprehend what Caecina had just said.
"Why would I believe you?" I asked finally.
Caecina did not seem surprised, answering with a shrug. "Ask around in town. Go to," he named three or four different taverns and brothels, "and ask the owners who they used to pay to have business sent to them. Ask," he uttered the names of two men who I knew were in the business of offering rankers loans between paydays that were notorious for the exorbitant interest demanded, "and see who their first boss was."
Sitting there, I struggled to determine whether this was just an elaborate bluff, or if Caecina was speaking the truth.
"And how do you know all this?" I demanded suspiciously. "You work for Urso, so how could you know about these supposed business dealings between Corvinus and those people you mentioned?"
The fact that I was given an instant's warning about Caecina's answer was cold comfort, yet something in the way he suddenly looked away and, more importantly, the expression on his face that I thought might reflect some sort of shame, informed me of the answer before he actually uttered the words.
"Because," he admitted, "I used to work for Corvinus. Those places and men I mentioned were part of my responsibility to manage." Only then, did he turn to look at me, saying, "When I was still in the Fourth, before I got promoted here." Once more, he shrugged as if it was of no moment, finishing, "The price for my promotion was convincing those customers to switch their business from Corvinus to the Primus Pilus."
"Is it true?" I demanded once more, even as, in a corner of my mind, I castigated myself that me barging in to demand an explanation of men who were my superiors was becoming a habit that could prove very harmful.
The only difference with this occasion was that I was not standing in Corvinus' office. Instead, I sought out my new Optio, who I knew would be in his quarters, like all of us. Of course, because we were restricted, I had to wait until after dark, sneaking from my hut and clinging to the shadows to make my way to his quarters, the hardest bit sneaking past the provosts that were still posted outside of Urso's quarters. Perhaps this seems to be not only reckless, but foolhardy, as on the surface, it would give Caecina, in the role of Sergeant, a perfect excuse to sound the alarm that I was violating orders and was out of my quarters. Fortunately for me, there were far too many examples where the highest-ranking man responsible was punished along with the miscreant, meaning I was gambling that it was a risk Caecina would not take. In fact, I was so confident I made no attempt to slip out silently, although being in the bunk immediately next to him meant leaving undetected was next to impossible, especially given the circumstances of our conversation earlier. What did surprise me was that, although I knew he was awake, he did not say anything; I just felt his good eye following me as I pulled on my tunic and picked up my boots before walking down the length of the hut, although I did so on the tips of my toes as quietly as possible. Arriving at Asinius' quarters, I was relieved to see the flickering of a lamp throwing its light underneath the door to his quarters, although it was no guarantee it was his lamp. Although cognizant there was an inherent risk in entering this hut, since all of the occupants inside reported directly to Urso, nothing I had seen or heard gave me any pause that Flaccus, Capulo, or even Titius, the Tesseraurius, were part of Urso's operations. Still, my heart was in my throat as I rapped lightly on the door. I heard some shuffling, then what sounded like a chair being pushed back from the table, followed by footfalls, and the door opened, but just a crack.
"Pullus?" Flaccus' face was just visible in the narrow gap, and he was clearly surprised. "What are you doing here? You know none of us are supposed to be out!"
"I need to see Asinius," I said, but when he made no move to open the door, I almost panicked; just down the street, I could hear the thudding sound of boots, signaling the approach of the provosts who were patrolling the streets, looking for exactly the sort of thing I was doing. "Please," I begged, "you know me! I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important!"
I could see he was not pleased but he relented, pulling the door open and stepping out of the way.
"He's in his quarters," Flaccus said unhappily, so I made sure I was effusive with my thanks before crossing to the door at the far end of the hut, where the Optio's quarters, about half the size of that belonging to a Centurion, were located; the other men share the outer space.
Thankfully, he had heard the commotion and opened his door, gesturing me to enter. Now I was standing there, having just blurted out my question as he sat on the edge of his bunk.
"Is what true?" he asked, but I was in no mood to edge around the subject.
"You know what," I retorted, yet to my initial irritation, he shook his head.
"Pullus," he said wearily, "you're going to have to be more specific than that. If you haven't noticed, there's quite a bit going on with this Legion, so you could be asking about any number of things."
With some chagrin, I recognized that, as far as a lot going on, he was correct. That did not mean I necessarily believed he did not know what I was asking about, yet I could not discount that possibility. Therefore, I added the details I had learned from Caecina, although I did not name him as my source while Asinius sat listening in total silence.
Finished, I repeated the question. "Is it true?"
Asinius did not reply immediately, instead sighing heavily and closing his eyes as if he hoped to open them and discover he had been dreaming; if that was indeed how he felt, I completely understood.
"Who told you this?" he finally demanded.
"What does it matter?" I argued. "It's either true or it's not."
Asinius stayed silent, staring up at me with a steady, unblinking gaze until I realized he would not budge until I answered him.
"Fine," I muttered. "Caecina is the one who told me."
Asinius closed his eyes, heaving another sigh as he shook his head with what I believed was true sadness.
"He would know," he said quietly, then added under his breath, "The bastard. The fucking bastard."
Despite trying to prepare myself for the worst, Asinius' indirect confirmation caused me to ask if I could sit down. He waved a hand at the chair next to the small desk; a cupboard for his personal belongings, a rack for his armor, and a cot completed the sparse furnishings of his room, although it had a carpet to keep bare feet from touching the freezing floor on cold winter mornings. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a partially unrolled scroll on the desk, but it was of the kind that told me it was not official. I had been vaguely aware that Asinius was someone like me who enjoyed reading in his leisure time, but this confirmation of that fact was something I tucked away in my mind for another time. Sitting down, I stared intently at Asinius, who seemed to be trying to frame what he was about to tell me.
"You know," he said suddenly
, "the best lies are always ones that have some truth in them."
Although this was an idea with which I agreed, it was not helping me in the moment, but before I could object, he explained, "What Caecina told you was only partially true, but the part that's not is important." Clamping my mouth shut, I stopped my words before they left my mouth; I admit I was somewhat proud of myself. "It's true that the Pilus Prior and the Primus Pilus were pursuing other…interests that aren't the kind of thing either of them would like made known." He paused, but for such a long time that I was about to open my mouth when he continued, "But they weren't competitors. They were partners."
Stopping again, this time I saw it was to gauge my reaction, but all I managed to get out was, "Go on."
"Yes, well," for the first time, he fumbled for the right words, "as I said, they were partners. But then, something happened."
"Which was?"
"Urso wanted to expand from just the schemes they were running in town," Asinius answered. "It was when we started retiring the hamata, and the helmets were modified."
"He started selling them," I sighed, feeling very tired suddenly.
Asinius looked startled, and he exclaimed, "Yes! But how do you know? And if you did, why are you barging in here telling me you don't?"
"I didn't say I didn't know that part," I protested, although I understood how weak that sounded. "I knew about the scheme Urso cooked up with the armor, but not that Corvinus was involved in it!"
"He wasn't," Asinius shot back adamantly. "That's what led to their falling out! The Pilus Prior wanted no part of it, and he told Urso as much. At least," he allowed, "that's what I've heard. But what I do know for a fact is that this is what led to their splitting up."
I sat there, considering what I had been told, and I cannot remember exactly when a thought so horrible that I tried to banish it immediately from my mind first surfaced, except no matter how much I tried, it refused to be pushed away.
