Marching With Caesar – Civil War mwc-2

by R. W. Peake

  “Maybe there’s something to be said about all those tricks Egyptian women supposedly know,” I mused to Felix one night as we shared some wine.

  He laughed, then shrugged. “I’d like to find out, though not with her. She’s really not much to look at it, is she?”

  I shook my head. “No, she’s not. But I overheard her talking with Caesar when they went for a walk around the grounds the other day. She’s got a pretty good sense of humor, and she doesn’t miss a thing. She said a couple things that caught me by surprise, I can tell you that.”

  “Oh, what was that?”

  I looked at him, suddenly embarrassed, realizing that I had said too much. As curious as I may have been about what he saw in her, I was also reluctant to be seen as gossiping about my general, so I just shrugged and mumbled, “I don’t recall exactly. It was just interesting.”

  Fortunately, he did not press, and we continued sipping our wine in companionable silence.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The day after Cleopatra arrived, Caesar called a meeting of brother and sister, ordering both Cohorts to be present, so we formed up, lining up against the walls of the main palace to watch the fun. We were there to remind Ptolemy, and more importantly Pothinus and Theodotus, who held the whip, and to discourage them from doing anything as silly as trying to argue. At the assembly, Caesar announced that Ptolemy had thought things over and decided that Egypt would be best served by the restoration of Cleopatra to her throne, and that they would once again co-rule their kingdom in peace and harmony. It was very hard not to burst out laughing, looking at the faces of Ptolemy and his toadies as Caesar spoke, but they were smart enough not to argue the point. That night Caesar ordered a banquet held, with Ptolemy, Cleopatra and their retinues as the guests of honor. I was ordered to keep a Century standing by outside the palace, but within hailing distance, taking command myself. During the banquet, the Egyptians drank themselves silly, exactly as Caesar had planned, counting on the loosening effect on their tongues to provide him with useful information. And it worked; during the festivities one of Caesar’s staff, the barber as it turned out, one of the faceless, nameless masses that upper classes and palace types think of as part of the furniture, managed to overhear of a plot by Pothinus and the general of the Egyptian army still at Pelusium, a man named Achillas, to kill Caesar. I was called to Caesar, who informed me of the plot and ordered me to surreptitiously bring some men in and scatter them about the palace, ready to spring to his defense should it be more than just drunken talk. Caesar stayed up the entire night, which of course meant that we stayed up as well, but nothing happened, at least that night.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was only a day or two later when word arrived that Achillas was now bringing the Egyptian army from Pelusium. Even with leaving a garrison force behind, Achillas was marching with 20,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry, which we could meet with not even two full Legion’s worth of troops, and only two Cohorts of those hardened veterans. The men of the 28th, while not tirones, were certainly not what I considered seasoned veterans, so I honestly was not sure exactly how they would react. One of the difficulties facing us, besides overwhelming numbers, was the fact that our command was essentially split, with the 28th securing the docks and the 6th securing the palace. Cartufenus, and sometimes his other Centurions, came in for staff briefings, yet for the most part, we ran our commands separately, having little contact with the other. Now we were about to see what we were all made of, but as usual, Caesar was not content to wait. Caesar summoned me to headquarters to brief me on what he had planned and I had to suppress a smile when I walked out, not wanting the Egyptians always hanging around to get a whiff that something might be up. Later that night, I marched out with the Century that was relieving the one on guard. Fortunately, I had done this often enough that it was not cause for any suspicion on the part of the Egyptian guards in the towers and on the walls, although when I did it before it was more to keep my own men on their toes than any attempt to lull the Egyptians. Approaching the guard Century, I was challenged by Considius, giving him the watchword, then went about the process of changing the guard, with only one slight variation. Instead of the relieved Century now marching back to their quarters, they stayed put and we immediately began to move, knowing that we only had a matter of moments before the Egyptians noticed that a Century of Romans was not marching back down the street. They did start off like they were doing so, but very quickly they veered across the Canopic Way to Ptolemy’s wing, where I dispatched a section to rush the two guards standing at the entrance we had chosen, catching them completely by surprise. We did not kill them; Caesar had been very explicit that we were not to shed blood unless absolutely necessary, but speed was essential and when the men went through the door, I had every other section go to the left, the rest in the opposite direction. Taking a section with me, we headed down a long hallway towards where we were told Ptolemy’s private bedroom was located, running almost full-out, trying to beat anyone sounding the alarm. There were a few sharp cries, but there was not enough of a commotion to fully alert people who were, for the most part, sound asleep. Finally taking a left down another long hallway, at the end of it we could see two Nubians, armed with axes.

  Immediately ordering the men to stop running, I slowed to a walk myself and as I approached, I said in my most commanding voice, “Caesar needs to see Ptolemy immediately!”

  Of course, neither of them spoke my tongue, and I did not speak theirs, but I knew they would recognize Caesar and Ptolemy’s names, and I hoped that would be enough to allow me to get close. Turning to the men with me, I told them to stand there as I approached more closely, then repeated myself. They were both looking at each other and grasping their axes, clearly unsure of what to do, and then I smiled and shrugged.

  “Upper classes, neh? Never know what they’re up to, right boys?”

  While it did not put them completely at ease, I could see them relax somewhat, but they were both still too alert for me to try anything on both of them without running the risk of getting myself hurt or killed. Shaking my head again, I paused like I was catching my breath, unstrapping my helmet, and making a show of pulling up my neckerchief to mop my brow.

  “I had to run all the way here,” I explained, knowing that they had no idea what I was saying but I just kept chattering like this were nothing but routine.

  Finally, I saw them relax, and that is when I struck. Using the helmet as a weapon, I lashed out with it, catching one of the guards flush in the face, dropping him like a stone. Before the other man could react, I swung my left fist, catching him in the face as well, except he did not go down, instead staggering back a step before he swung his axe at me, barely missing me as I leaned back, feeling the blade whistle past my ear. In the instant that it took him to recover, I leaped on him but he was by far one of the strongest men I had ever fought, so that in a moment we were rolling on the floor, grabbing at each other’s throats.

  For a moment I thought he had me, his hands closing around my windpipe until I started seeing stars, as I barely managed to croak out, “What are you bastards waiting for?”

  Suddenly, the weight lifted off me, his hands finally jerked from my throat as the men pulled him off me, knocking him cold.

  Staggering to my feet, I glared at the others, all of them looking ashamed, and one of them said, “Sorry, Primus Pilus, we thought you had him.”

  “I’ll sort you out later,” I growled, then kicked the door open, stepping quickly inside.

  There was a startled squeal that I thought was from a woman, but it turned out to be one of those creatures like Pothinus who slept at the foot of Ptolemy’s bed. Ptolemy was just sitting up, and without any of that ludicrous makeup he looked exactly what he was, a teenage boy. I could see the resemblance between him and his sister, once more striking me with revulsion at the thought that Cleopatra was more than his sibling. He was blinking the sleep away as I strode to his bed, saying exactly what I had been instructed to say
.

  “Your Highness, there are matters of utmost urgency that Caesar has deemed requires your presence for consultations with him. I am to escort you to headquarters immediately.”

  He looked up at me, clearly confused. “Can’t this wait until morning?”

  “No, Your Highness,” I said firmly. “In fact, we are already running late. Please rouse yourself and come with me.”

  “Without getting dressed?”

  Now he was getting indignant as his mind started working. I had been warned by Caesar not to be swayed by his youth.

  “Ptolemy has been raised on court politics and intrigue. You’ve seen yourself how treacherous these people are, so don't let him have time to start thinking,” Caesar told me, and I had this in mind as I watched Ptolemy frowning.

  Before he could say anything, I spoke in a commanding tone. “We don't have time for that Your Highness. I'll make sure that men bring proper attire but we need to leave. . now.”

  I do not think he had ever been talked to like that. His jaw dropped as he looked at me in astonishment, but then I saw his face color and I could see he was getting angry. I took a step towards the bed, causing him to call for the guards.

  “They’re not coming, Highness,” I told him calmly. “They’ve been. . detained.”

  “How dare you,” he hissed, and now he was getting really angry, though he did rouse himself from the bed.

  I remember thinking that even his nightclothes probably cost more than every stitch of clothing I owned, yet they did nothing to enhance his royal dignity. That did not stop him from drawing himself up to his full height, such as it was, as he looked up at me.

  “I am Pharaoh! I am lord of the Two Kingdoms and I will not be spoken to as if I were a vassal!”

  “I mean no disrespect, Highness,” I replied, “but I have my orders, and they are specific. You're to accompany me right now. Now,” I turned and indicated my men, “we can do this one of two ways, and I think we would both prefer that you come with us under your own power.”

  That took all the wind out of his sails, his shoulders suddenly slumping, and he came with us, giving no further trouble except when we first stepped through the door and he saw the inert bodies of his guards.

  “You’re going to kill me,” he shrilled, making a move to try and run, forcing me to grab a handful of his nightclothes, picking him up off the ground so his feet could not get traction, though that did not stop his feet from moving like he was, a comical sight, I can assure you.

  “That's not true, Highness. These men aren't dead; they're simply knocked unconscious. Look.” I nudged one of them with my toe, eliciting a low moan. “See? They’re just out cold. They'll wake up with a headache and nothing more.”

  That settled his nerves, but just a bit, although he did not give us any more problems and we brought him to Caesar as ordered. The other sections had also collected his younger siblings, a girl named Arsinoe and another Ptolemy who was a few years younger than the king. Cleopatra had also been brought to Caesar, albeit more gently than her other siblings, but nonetheless the entire Egyptian royal family was now located at Caesar’s headquarters. I was standing in a corner of the room when Caesar appeared to face the confused and angry youngsters. I do not know if Ptolemy XIV appointed himself the spokesman for his siblings or just took it upon himself, but he angrily confronted Caesar.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  By this point, he was almost apoplectic with rage. Whatever timidity he felt when I roused him from his bed had been washed away with anger, but Caesar did not seem put out in the slightest.

  “Your Highness, I have received reports that your general Achillas has decided to move his army against my forces. This is merely to ensure your and your family’s safety.”

  “Our safety? We have nothing to fear from Achillas! You’re the only one who has anything to fear!”

  “That remains to be seen,” Caesar said coolly. “But regardless, the situation is very dangerous and I'm doing this for your safety.”

  “You are doing no such thing,” Ptolemy scoffed. “We're nothing but hostages!”

  I do not know if I was the only one who saw the corner of Caesar’s mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile.

  “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 w
ell 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.”