Marching With Caesar-Pax Romana

by R. W. Peake

  "What took place," Lutatius interjected vehemently, which surprised all of us, "is that we got there first, and we whipped those cunni. What else does the Legate need to know?"

  Naturally, this unleashed a small uproar as my comrades added their agreement, the relative quiet and discipline instantly evaporating.

  "Tacete!"

  I will be the first to admit that, when Asinius bellowed the command for us to shut up and the others visibly jumped in their seats, I was right there with them. Despite Asinius being my first Sergeant, I only realized at that moment I had never actually heard him yell at the top of his lungs, and the truth is, it was impressive. What was equally notable, and actually pleased me a great deal, was in how quickly the others obeyed; Tiburtinus could not have done any better in getting us quiet, of that I am convinced.

  "Gregarius…Lutatius?" Asinius uttered his name as part address, part question, which was understandable; when a man has to learn one hundred sixty names, it does not happen overnight, although at this point, we were down to about a hundred men. Seeing Lutatius nod in answer, Asinius continued, "While I'm sure the Primus Pilus appreciates your support, that's the last time I expect to hear anyone in this Century say something like that, outside these walls. Is that understood?"

  Whatever good feelings he had garnered with my comrades were instantly gone; I could see it immediately, and I suspect Asinius could as well. Essentially, he was telling them not to let their loyalty to the Primus Pilus show. The reality was that, while my personal feelings were much more complex and twisted when it came to the man, the rest of his Century loved him the same way they love a parent who is stern, even harsh at times, but who is always there for them when they are needed, a respect consisting of equal parts fear and love.

  Asinius clearly saw this, because he went on to explain, "This isn't about trying to keep the Primus Pilus from seeing you're loyal to him. Because," he paused, "that's part of the problem, at least from the Legate's point of view." Glancing around, I am sure he saw the same stony looks that I did, so he continued, "Just like all of you, I've got little birds in a number of places who tell me things." There were some small grins at his term, and a couple of the men shifted in their seats, but in such a way that told me they were paying closer attention, intent on what the Optio was saying. "And I have one in particular who's in the perfect spot to hear things that men like the Legate have to say. This little bird is the one who told me that the Legate has been suspicious of the Primus Pilus for some time, that perhaps the Primus Pilus is getting a bit…above his station. And he views what happened three days ago as an example that the Legion is more loyal to the Primus Pilus than to Rome."

  "You mean," Caecina shot back, and I believe his bitterness was genuine, "more loyal to the Primus Pilus than we are to him."

  If Asinius was angered that Caecina had cut him off, he gave no sign of it; nor did he hesitate in his reply.

  "Caecina, you've clearly forgotten that, to men like the Legate, that's one and the same thing. Especially," he finished pointedly, "now, when all Legates are handpicked by the Princeps."

  That, as I knew very well, was nothing but the truth and when I glanced at Caecina, I saw that he did also. He did not like it a bit, but he understood it to be true.

  "So," Sido spoke up, something of a rarity itself, "what you're saying is that we should watch our mouths so we don't give the Legate any ideas that we might do whatever the Primus Pilus tells us to do?"

  Asinius looked impressed, as was I, and we were not alone. Of all of us, Sido was the quietest, but as I would learn during my time in the First Section, the few times he did speak, he had a way of getting right to the heart of a matter and expressing himself in a way that was instantly understood by all of us. And, as he did then, made perfect sense when he did speak.

  "Yes." Asinius' eyes narrowed as he stared down at Sido, trying to recall it, but finally, Sido had to supply his name. "Thank you. Yes, Sido, that's exactly what I'm trying to get across. We're under suspicion as of this moment, and the next few days are going to be critical, because from what I've been able to gather, the Legate is looking for a way to put the Primus Pilus in his place."

  Now that he was finished, he turned to leave, but when he got to the door, he called out, "Pullus, come with me."

  Inwardly, I groaned, knowing this would just arouse Caecina's suspicions even more, but Asinius was not through and had a surprise in store not just for me.

  "Caecina," he paused, and I wondered if it was deliberate, "you come too."

  Now it was the Sergeant's turn to give an alarmed look to Geta, seated on one side, and Mela on the other. He and I were on opposite sides of the table and, as we walked to Asinius, I was struck by how symbolically apt that was; we were on the opposite side of just about everything, it seemed to me.

  Asinius led us outside, but we did not go far. Stopping in the middle of the street, we had it to ourselves since the restriction had not yet been lifted, so he spoke freely and did not bother dropping his voice.

  "I wanted you two out here so I could tell you this to both of you."

  I felt a flickering of unease as I studied his face; Asinius was wearing an expression I had not seen before, one that was much harder and unyielding.

  "There will be no kind of trouble between the two of you until this matter with the Primus Pilus is resolved. Is that understood?"

  That, I must say, took me aback, and I felt my mouth drop, but while I was shocked, Caecina tried another approach.

  Giving Asinius that damnable grin of his, he replied affably, "Optio, while I don't know what you're talking about, I promise that there's nothing…"

  "Caecina," Asinius' voice was deathly quiet, but his eyes looked like two coals as he said, "you forget I've known you a long time. From back in the Fourth. Your act didn't fool me then, and it doesn't fool me now. We both know you think you're the cleverest man in the Cohort, probably in the Legion. And while you've gotten away with it before by using that cac-eating grin, it won't work with me. Understand?"

  Because Caecina and I were side by side, I did not get a good look at his face, but I did not really need to; the suppressed rage radiating from every inch of his body was so powerful I could smell it.

  At first, I did not think he would answer, but finally, he managed a clipped, "Yes, Optio."

  However, if I thought he would be the only recipient of Asinius' wrath, I quickly learned differently, because then my former Sergeant turned to me and, if anything, his face turned colder.

  "And you, Pullus. Gods know you're fucking strong enough to break Caecina in half with your hands, and he's too smart to face you even with a rudis, but hear me now. He will not end up like Maxentius, under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

  The mention of Gaius Maxentius was a low blow, one that was extremely well aimed. In fact, I did feel like I had been punched in the stomach, but close on the heels of that came the anger, and I felt my mouth opening to say something that would let him know he should not have used my crippling of Maxentius in that way.

  Instead, what came out of my mouth was, "Yes, Optio."

  "Now, go back inside, and you don't breathe a word of our little talk to any of the others. Or you'll have trouble of a kind you can't even fucking imagine."

  Without another word, he turned towards the end of the street and walked away, leaving the pair of us with our mouths hanging open.

  As Avitus had heard, our restriction was lifted the next morning, but only partially. While we were allowed to leave our area, we were restricted from crossing the forum to the area where the 13th lived when they were not in Poetovio, or in the direction of the Porta Sinistra, where the 15th was located. Essentially, about the only thing we could do was go to the Praetorium, Quaestorium, and hospital. However, I do not believe the Legate expected that such a large number of men of the 8th would just happen to wander to the forum then suddenly stop there, mingling with comrades in other Cohorts they had not spoken to for a c
ouple days. The fact that they chose the forum, directly next to the Praetorium, to hold these conversations may have appeared to be a random event, but I found it hard to believe the Legate would be so thick as to believe that. Meanwhile, I went to the hospital, mainly to see Domitius, but to check on Didius and Quirinus as well, the latter having been wounded in the ambush at The Quarry and who was almost recovered enough to return to our hut. In fact, when I entered, he was standing there, waiting for the physician to complete the order releasing him from his care and returning him to duty.

  Seeing me, he flashed the grin of a man reminiscent of someone escaping captivity, and said genially, "Oy, Pullus! I'm finally getting out of here! I hope none of you thieving bastards have robbed me clean!"

  I laughed, assuring him that, at least as far as I knew, nobody had picked the lock to his strongbox, but I added, "But I did see Lutatius eyeing it this morning. You can't expect us to be tempted for that long without at least thinking about it."

  He looked so alarmed I felt guilty, and hastened to assure him his valuables were still intact and nobody coveted them. At least, I thought, I hope not. Quirinus did not seem soothed by my assurance, so the moment the physician handed him the wax tablet to take to the Cohort clerk, he moved quickly, at least as much as possible for a man recovering from a serious wound. Shaking my head, more at myself, I walked to Domitius' cot and grabbed one of the nearby stools, taking a seat next to him as he grinned at me, clearly amused by my exchange with Quirinus.

  "That got him moving." Domitius chuckled, but while he did not cry out, I saw the wince of pain caused by his mirth.

  "I probably shouldn't have said that," I admitted.

  "You're not the best at calming people down," Domitius agreed, but while I glared at him, it was in jest.

  I filled him in on all that was happening, but while he listened carefully, there was an expression on his face I could not easily interpret. However, he waited until I finished.

  "I might know more than that." His voice dropped to a whisper, although the cots around him were empty.

  Only Didius was left from our section, but he was a few cots down and snoring loudly, yet there were still a half-dozen men from other sections scattered around, along with men from other Cohorts who had been wounded, so it made sense he did not want his voice to carry.

  "I heard a couple of the medici who double as clerks," he told me, "and one of them works in the Quaestorium with the rations section. Well, he knows someone in…"

  I cut him off, saying, "Titus, you don't have to give me the entire story about who heard what from whom." I tried to be gentle, but truthfully, I was impatient for more news.

  Domitius flushed slightly; I remember thinking the rush of color looked good on him, but he nodded and continued. "Anyway, there's something else going on now. When the 15th came back, their Primus Pilus…" He hesitated, his face wrinkling. "What's his name?"

  I thought for a moment, then remembered. "Ahenobarbus."

  "Yes, that's right. Well, he requested an audience with the Legate, and it was to tell him two things. One was that they had found signs of another force, marching from the direction of the Varciani lands to the east. From the way it looked, they were coming to join Draxo and his bunch, but they turned around."

  "Where did they go?"

  "I don't know," Domitius said. "At least, I didn't hear him say anything about that."

  I did not see the problem, and I told him as much.

  "It's a problem because Ahenobarbus is claiming that by Urso acting as he did, he ruined our chances of stopping the Varciani at the same time. And the way the medicus put it, Ahenobarbus was laying it on thick about how it was Urso who ruined the Legate's brilliant plan, and he deserves to be punished."

  I sat there, considering this, but I still did not see that this materially changed anything; we already knew Urso was in boiling oil because he had acted so aggressively. Except, as I was about to learn, Titus Domitius was no fool; perhaps all that time lying abed with nothing to do but think was the key to the other subject he brought up.

  "Titus," he resumed, "have you given any thought about why the Primus Pilus put us in the position to stop the Colapiani by ourselves without waiting for the others?"

  In fact, to that point, I had not, or at least, I had assumed the reason was what was being said, that Urso was just being aggressive.

  When I told him this, he said, "What if there were some other reason?"

  "Like what?"

  He paused for a number of heartbeats before he replied, "Like he was trying to keep the other Legions from being involved because of what they'd see, either during the fight or afterward."

  Stopping then, he stared at me with an odd expression on his face, one full of meaning, as if he was willing me with his mind to reach the conclusion he had drawn for himself, but on my own. And if that was his intent, he succeeded, as it suddenly hit me.

  "By the gods," I breathed, "he didn't want either of them to see that the Colapiani were wearing our old armor!"

  He did not reply, verbally at least, just giving a grim nod of his head, but he was not through.

  "It gets worse," he added.

  I stared at him, not believing it was possible; then he proved me wrong.

  "Apparently Ahenobarbus didn't bring the 15th straight back to Siscia," he explained. "And guess where he marched to?"

  "Where we fought," I sighed.

  "I was out of it after everything was over," Domitius continued, "but I vaguely remember hearing some of the boys moaning about something Urso made them do that was unusual, except they didn't say exactly what it was. Or," he admitted, a grim smile on his face, "I might have been out when they talked about it. Do you remember seeing anything…strange?"

  Until Domitius asked me this, I had not. Or, more likely, I had, but like him, I was sufficiently distracted by the exhaustion and pain of all we had been through that only a part of my mind paid attention. Still, it did not come immediately, so I sat there, thinking back to that night and, ever so slowly, the fragments and pieces of what were disjointed memories started joining themselves in my mind.

  "Yes." I spoke slowly because it still had not all come together. "It was when we were cleaning up afterwards." Despite the grim subject, I saw the glimmer of a grin on Domitius' face at the term we used for the process of systematically killing enemy wounded and looting their corpses. "And they were piling up the bodies. They were stripping them, but…" I looked directly at Domitius as the last piece of recollection I needed to complete the picture fell into place, "…only certain ones."

  I did not finish, but I did not need to; Domitius' nod was confirmation of the fact only those Colapiani wearing the old Roman armor and helmets had been stripped of these items. And yet, as I sat there trying to grab onto some other pieces of what I saw that night, I felt like I was trying to grab wisps of smoke.

  Shaking my head in frustration, I said, "I can't remember what they did with them, though."

  "Well," Domitius said grimly, "neither did I, but apparently, the boys who Urso put on the job were either not thorough, or maybe it was a detail that slipped Urso's mind, because they didn't do something like bury them."

  "That," I interjected, remembering the terrain and ground in that area, "would have been almost impossible. At least, and not making it obvious. That ground was too rocky."

  "Whether they were supposed to bury them, or take all of it with us, which," he hurried on, clearly seeing that I was not accepting this as likely, "would have been next to impossible, I know. Either way, it doesn't matter. What does is that Ahenobarbus and his boys found them piled up. He brought at least some of them back. As evidence," he finished meaningfully.

  "Juno's cunnus," I muttered; this was almost too much to absorb. Finally, I asked, "Did you hear anything else?"

  Despite himself, Domitius gave a part chuckle, part groan as he retorted, "What? That's not enough?"

  "No, no," I agreed. "You've given me plenty to
think about. What happens next, though?"

  "That," he sighed, "is a good question."

  When I left the hospital, I was in a quandary about whether I should share this information at all and, if I did, how much of it, and most importantly, with whom I would share it. I was not surprised to see that the men had not dispersed, knowing they were there to send the Legate a message, but I was careful to navigate my way around where my current comrades were gathered together. However, I could not help noticing that, of all the men, they seemed to be the least talkative, and I had to grin at this sign they had taken Asinius' warning to heart. Of course, I had no way of knowing whether they were, in fact, abiding by his orders, but it certainly appeared that way. On an impulse, I skirted the edge of the forum, scanning the small clusters of men until I saw a shock of flaming red hair I knew very well. Feeling an urge to make mischief, I walked across the forum, but from behind my target. When I got closer, I noticed a couple of the men facing my direction had taken notice, but when I gestured to them, they quickly turned their attention back to the conversation in which they were engaged.

  Sidling up behind my intended victim, I growled, "You better have a good fucking reason why you're standing around, fucking about."

  Vibius Tuditanus jumped, giving a startled yelp, which naturally caused the comrades around him to burst out laughing. Spinning around, his fair face flushed so deeply it almost matched his hair.

  "You bastard," he gasped, but I was laughing too hard to make any kind of reply.

  My mirth was such that he clearly could not refrain from joining in and, laughing together, we embraced.

  "You don't come by for weeks, then this is how you greet me?" He tried to scowl, but he could not maintain it.

  Vibius Tuditanus was in the Third of the Fourth, but we had been part of the same group of Tirones the year before, spending our first month together as we were taught the rudiments of what it means to be a Legionary. While we were opposites in many ways, we had become friends, only separated by the fact that we were in different Centuries at first, now in different Cohorts. We talked quietly for a bit, but while he did not ask, I could see he was intensely curious, which I believe was based on his assumption that just by my proximity to the subject of all the speculation, Urso, I would have something interesting to say. I was thankful he did not, and I think it was an example of true friendship that he behaved with such restraint. As we were talking, I suddenly spotted someone else with whom I had not conversed for some time, so I excused myself. This time, however, I just walked up to Gnaeus Figulus, and while we embraced in the same way I had with Tuditanus, this one was endowed with even more emotion, because Figulus and I had been friends since we were both children, when our fathers were under the standard. He was older than I was and had enlisted three years earlier than I had, but like me, he felt at home in the Legion. And, as with Tuditanus, I could see he was almost bursting to ask me what I knew, but although I did not divulge anything, with Figulus it was because too many ears were around. After we caught up, exchanging stories about what had happened a few nights before, and he poked fun about how ugly my arm looked, we parted with another embrace. Deciding that loitering any longer would not be a good idea, both because my fear that Caecina would spot me and try to pry some information from me, and I did not want to incur Asinius' wrath any more than I already had, I headed in the direction of our hut. At least, that was my intention. As I passed Urso's quarters on the way to my own, I did notice the provosts were missing, which I took to mean that the Primus Pilus was still at the Praetorium, either arguing his case or waiting to hear his fate. But, just as I reached the door to our hut, there was an explosive roaring sound from the direction of the forum and I stopped, turning to listen for a moment. Even from the distance I was, as the sound of a few thousand male voices were raised, I could tell they were not cheering. This, I instantly understood, was an angry group of men, and without a second thought, I turned back in the direction of the forum. The few men who had been in their own huts had started coming out to peer in the direction I was running and quickly joined me, so perhaps a couple hundred of us went pounding down the street, heading to the forum.