by R. W. Peake
“I can certainly see how you might see it that way, but nothing could be further from the truth, Your Highness, I assure you. I have only your welfare and the welfare of your family as my goal. We will do everything we can to make your stay as comfortable as possible, but I'm afraid that space is at a premium and your accommodations may be more cramped than you're accustomed to.”
Ptolemy was clearly unhappy, but was intelligent enough to know that there was nothing he could do about it. With the royal family secure, my men and I were dismissed for the time being to return to our quarters. I went looking for Diocles to talk over all that had transpired and to find out what he knew of the situation from Appolonius. Meanwhile, Caesar had a use for Ptolemy, and he put the next phase of his plan into operation.
~ ~ ~ ~
Caesar ordered the boy king to summon two of his advisers, named Serapion and Dioscorides, giving them instructions to go find Achillas and order him to turn around in the king’s name. Not only did Achillas not listen, he tried to kill both of them, succeeding with Serapion while seriously wounding Dioscorides, who barely managed to escape. He made his way back to Alexandria, carried in a litter by his servants, only being allowed back into the city gates because of his status as Ptolemy’s ambassador. The City Guard had learned of Caesar’s taking of the royal family, but they were too poorly organized, trained, and led to do anything other than shut the city gates and wait for Achillas’ army. I was summoned shortly after Dioscorides came back to find that all of Caesar’s staff was already present, all of them looking grim.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Apollonius.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s good news.”
“I can pretty much tell that, thank you,” I snapped, moving off towards Caesar and his generals. Caesar saw me, indicating to take a seat, which I did.
“Cartufenus should be arriving shortly,” he announced, “so we'll wait for him before we begin.”
He arrived a few moments later, taking his own seat.
Without waiting any longer, Caesar began. “As you all know, Achillas approaches with his army. That's no surprise. However, what poor Dioscorides has informed me about that is a surprise is the composition of the army of Achillas. Do you remember how it was something of a mystery what happened to the bulk of Gabinius’ army?”
The generals nodded their heads, but I was only vaguely aware of the story of Gabinius and his trials for extortion and corruption, nevertheless, I nodded along with the rest of them.
“Well, it appears that a good number of his former men joined the army of Ptolemy, and have been acting as cadre for the rest of the army. They've been training the Egyptians in our tactics, although I do not know to what extent. What I do know is that they're battle-hardened veterans.”
“Any idea of their numbers?” This came from Pollio, I believe.
“Approximately four thousand.”
Someone let out a low whistle.
“That’s almost a quarter of their total numbers.”
“Thank you for that lesson in figuring sums,” Caesar snapped, somewhat peevishly. “The question at hand is how we handle this information.”
“Bribe them,” Hirtius said immediately. “They’re Roman, after all. It shouldn’t be too hard to bring them back to our side.”
“That may have been true at one time, but there are a couple of factors that I think would make that impossible. First, these men have been here for many, many years. From what Dioscorides said, most of them have gone native, taking wives and raising families. Besides that is the fact that they were originally raised by Pompey. I don’t think they would be well disposed to serving the man who brought their original patron down.”
“The men of the 6th did, as well as the ones who formed the 36th and 37th,” pointed out Nero, and despite the truth of what he said, I felt a flash of irritation at his smug tone.
“The men of the 6th were at the point of a sword, and the rest of them had just been defeated. These men haven't tasted defeat yet, and they're not likely to be well disposed towards the man who conquered their patron.” Caesar repeated, looking around at us. Seeing that we accepted this, he continued, “So we must determine whether or not we leave the walls and meet them in open battle, or if we wait for them to come to us.”
Pollio spoke immediately. “If you have any hope of employing my cavalry, we’ll have to meet them on open ground. We’ll be practically useless inside the walls of the city.”
“But if we move to meet them on open ground, they can bring their numbers to bear on us,” protested Hirtius, and I for one agreed with this assessment. “We need to find a way to negate their numbers, especially now that we know that they have Roman veterans in their ranks.”
“We don’t have enough men to man the walls of a city this size,” Pollio pointed out, and this also was true. This was the nature of the argument back and forth for some moments, during which time Caesar only listened. Finally, he lifted a hand to silence the others, looking to Cartufenus and me.
“Cartufenus, what do you think?”
All eyes turned towards Cartufenus, who shifted uncomfortably, shooting me a sidelong glance before clearing his throat. “Well, Caesar. I don’t think we can face such a large host in open battle, especially with my boys.” The men around him gave him sharp looks, and he hurriedly continued, “I’m not saying they’re not good men, but you all know that they’re not the most seasoned troops. So I think anything we can do to give them every advantage, we must do if we’re to have a chance.”
Caesar turned to me. “Pullus?”
“I agree with Cartufenus, but I’d take it even further. I think we need to choose one point in the city to defend and pull all of the men in to give us the best chance.”
“The only problem with that is that if we do that, we give up access to the docks,” Nero spoke up, and I had to admit he was right.
“We can’t abandon the palace and concentrate on the docks,” Caesar decided. “So we'll compromise and defend both points. The palace complex is too large to defend completely, so we'll form a perimeter around the buildings south of the Canopic Way. I have already sent Mithradates in one of the thirty’s to get help in the form of more naval vessels, and he's bearing messages for the provinces to supply troops and supplies. Since I haven't heard from Cassius, I have to assume that he didn't make it through for some reason, so now we must rely on Mithradates.”
We discussed a few more details before we were dismissed to make preparations, and I had a lot to do before Achillas showed up.
~ ~ ~ ~
We learned very quickly that Achillas was a competent general, not overawed in the slightest by facing Caesar. I believe that the destruction of Curio and his Legions a couple years before had shown him that we could be beaten, and he did not dawdle on his march, arriving at the city gates barely a day after our meeting. Caesar had hoped that Achillas’ actions against the two envoys would show that he was acting against the wishes of Ptolemy, causing the people to rise up against Achillas and his army, but no such thing happened. In fact, Achillas was greeted as the savior of the city, the eastern gate where he approached thrown open to him without any resistance. Immediately after entering the city, Achillas divided his force into two, sending one column to the docks, while taking the other to our position at the palace. We were alerted to their approach, first by the cheers of the people crowding the streets, then by our own pickets running back to warn us. A series of barricades had been erected, made of wagons turned on their sides then loaded down with anything we could get our hands on that weighed a good deal and was not flammable, so that even in the event they fired the wagons, the contents would still provide protection. Another part of our preparations consisted of knocking down the interior walls in the buildings fronting the street, allowing for men to pass from one end of a building to another without being exposed to fire. Our scorpions were positioned on the flat roofs of the part of the palace that we were defending, a
nd I was thankful that we did not need to worry about fire, since the buildings of Alexandria are almost completely composed of stone, with very little if any wood being used in their construction. The Egyptians made the focus of their first assault the breastworks at the junction of the Canopic Way and the street that ran north to the harbor along the eastern edge of the palace compound. They marched several men abreast, forming a solid wall of men, completely filling the avenue. I was standing with the Fifth and Sixth Centuries of the 7th, next to Felix and Clemens, watching as the enemy stopped to dress their lines in preparation for their attack. I selected these two Centuries because I had the most confidence in them, although it was confidence based on nothing more than a feeling in my gut, since we had not done any fighting to this point. Felix stood calmly, calling to one man or another, giving them last-minute orders and encouragement, while Clemens was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, but I could tell that it was from eagerness and not from a lack of courage or resolve.
Felix turned to me, indicating the front rank of the enemy. “They don’t look all that formidable. I thought you said that they were veterans.”
I looked over the edge of the barricade, and Felix was right. The men in the front ranks were lightly armored and wearing the traditional garb of the Egyptians, though some of the men wore a helmet of a sort.
I frowned as I thought about it, then a notion struck me. “I think that’s because Achillas isn't convinced that he can dislodge us and he doesn’t want to waste his best troops yet. Or,” as another thought came to me, “he’s using his best men somewhere else. Like down at the docks.”
Once I said it, I became more certain that this latter idea was indeed the case, but there was nothing I could do about it, because the Egyptians finally launched their attack. They came pounding down the avenue, their voices in full cry and waving their weapons above their heads. We had brought extra javelins so that the men could throw at least three and maybe four volleys, and I told Felix to give the order to loose the first one. The air filled with missiles, slamming into the packed mass of men, knocking a dozen in the front rank down. Immediately, the momentum of the attack stalled, with the men in the rear ranks stumbling over the bodies of their comrades. Most of these men carried shields, except they were much smaller than ours, appearing to be made of wicker like our training versions, and the men who were not struck bodily by the volley had them knocked from their hands. The enemy milled about as they tried to reorganize, providing a stationary target for the second barrage. This time they were a bit better prepared, but a number of the men in the front who managed to dodge the first volley by sacrificing their shields were not so lucky the second time. All we could do was delay them, however, and it was a credit to their officers that they reorganized and resumed the charge so quickly, preventing us from hurling the extra javelins that we brought at them.
“Draw swords!”
Even over the roars of the charging men, I heard the rasping sound of the blades of two Centuries being drawn then our own men added to the din with their cries of defiance as the front ranks of the Egyptians threw themselves at the barricade. Dust flew from the loaded wagons from thousands of pounds of angry men slamming into them, briefly obscuring the action. Egyptians began throwing themselves at the wagons, clawing at the sides, trying to pull themselves up to where my men were standing, ready to thrust down at them. The enemy possessed no missile troops to try scouring us from the makeshift parapet, making it short work of chopping men down as they clambered up. It took the enemy a couple of moments to realize that they had no chance of dislodging our men from their position, and by the time they withdrew, the area immediately around the breastworks was covered with the bodies of their dead and wounded, the latter being finished off as my men jeered at the retreating Egyptians. They re-formed down the avenue, out of range of the javelins, and we waited as their commander tried to decide what to do. During the respite, Clemens walked down the avenue to the next street that gave an unobstructed view down towards the harbor. Hearing him cursing, I trotted over to him, and when he pointed to the north, and I followed his finger, I began cursing as well. Huge clouds of black smoke were billowing up from the direction of the harbor, the sounds of fighting carrying to us on the wind, blowing from the north at that time of year. Because of the buildings in between it was impossible to see exactly what was taking place, but the signs were not encouraging, since our men were defending the docks and the structures around it. I assumed that anything set alight had to be done by the enemy, incorrectly as it turned out, but there was no way of knowing that then. All I knew for sure was that was where Caesar had chosen to go and assume command, meaning I had to trust that he had things well in hand, despite the signs to the contrary. Also, there was nothing I could do about it anyway, so I turned my attention back to the immediate situation, walking back to see what the enemy had decided to do.
~ ~ ~ ~
The Egyptian commander, who I do not believe was Achillas, ordered his men to turn their attention to a postern gate opening onto an alley running between two of the buildings we were defending, and was used to deliver supplies. They had fashioned a crude battering ram, using what looked like a carved column, to which they had attached a series of ropes to act as handles. When the men carrying the ram moved forward, they were surrounded by comrades carrying their shields high above their heads to protect the ram from our men on the roofs of the buildings. Hurrying over to the new point of attack, using the holes in the walls we had opened, I found Salvius in command, meaning that Porcinus was actually in charge. The Optio had two sections bracing against the gate, their bodies shuddering with every impact of the ram, as splinters flew with each blow.
I waited a moment to see if Salvius would do anything, but after a couple of moments where he seemed content to watch his men desperately struggling to brace the gate, I finally spoke. “Salvius,” I snapped. “Don’t stand there with your thumb up your ass. Get some of your men to find something to brace the gate. These men can’t do it alone. Hurry, damn you!”
You would have thought I poked him in the ass with a red-hot javelin, and he scurried off with several sections of his men looking for something suitable, and I wondered if he would be smart enough to bring something that would be of any value. Ordering another two sections to relieve the men at the gate, the relieved men gasped their thanks as the others took their place. The gate seemed to be holding, but there was no telling how long it would last, because now small chunks of wood were starting to come off with every blow from the ram. It seemed we could either hope the gate held, or we could try to do something about the ram, and with that in mind, I went up onto the roof of one of the buildings. Favonius had his Century on the roof, the men standing away from the edge until they were ready to throw a javelin down onto the heads of the Egyptians. The scorpions were useless because we could not depress the angle enough when they were this close. Although the javelins were causing casualties, we needed a more concerted effort, and something more effective, so I told Favonius to start using the combustibles that we had piled there, small pots filled with pitch stoppered with a rag soaked in oil to set alight. It’s a really ugly way to die, but we could not allow the enemy to affect a breach. In a few moments, the men were raining fire down on the heads of the Egyptians, the horrific screams of men set alight and becoming human torches filling the air. It did not take long for the smell of sizzling meat to reach our nostrils, and no matter how many times one smells that odor, it still causes the stomach to turn. Before another few moments passed, the ram was on fire, forcing the Egyptians to drop it and retreat once again, this time leaving scorched, smoking corpses behind. Once they moved back up the avenue, I left the roof, going back down to check the gate, and I was pleased to see that Salvius had managed to find heavy timbers to wedge against it, bracing the timbers with a number of heavy crates. To that point, we had managed to inflict a fair number of losses on the Egyptians and so far had not suffered one man killed, wi
th only a couple of minor wounds. The enemy was forced to regroup again, their commander then apparently deciding a change in tactics was required. Instead of trying to force one point of entry, he sent detachments of a few hundred men ranging around the compound, looking for weak spots in our defensive line. At the sound of a horn, the detachments went rushing at the points they had selected, the air suddenly split by the answering sound of our own cornicen from each Century calling the alarm. It was a cacophony of sound, and I was forced to decide very quickly where I was most needed, choosing to go to the southern side of the enclosure to see if there were any problems.
I had put Valens in charge of this sector and found him at the southern gate of the enclosure, where the Egyptians apparently decided on a slightly different approach. Instead of trying to beat down the gate, they constructed about two dozen ladders, and as I trotted up, I saw what looked like Egyptian troops fighting with our men on the parapet. Valens was on the ground directing his men, and I was about to chastise him for not being up on the wall but held my tongue, recognizing that this was one of those times where a Centurion was better off leading from a position where he could more easily see what was going on. The enemy was attempting to scale the wall at several points, and if Valens rushed to one spot that he thought was in trouble, he might not see a more serious breach occur elsewhere. Instead, I told him to continue as he was before, climbing the stairs up to the wall, heading towards a spot where a couple sections of men were trying to stop more of the enemy from adding to a pocket that four or five of them had managed to secure on the parapet. It irritated me that it seemed to be taking my men a long time to dispatch a handful of the enemy, but when I got closer, I saw the cause of the problem. The enemy commander had committed some of those veterans who we had taken to calling ‘Gabinians,’ to this assault, meaning that we were facing men trained in the same manner as we were.
Their fighting style was the same, but that is about all; pushing my way through the men, I grabbed a shield from one of the boys in the rear as someone yelled, “Make way for the Primus Pilus, boys! He wants a piece of these cunni!”
