Marching With Caesar – Civil War mwc-2

by R. W. Peake

  The Jews nodded their understanding. When Caesar asked them to leave so that he could speak to me privately, they did so.

  Once they left, Caesar turned back to me and without preface asked me, “I don't know Cornuficius well; he’s not been serving me that long and I've been extremely busy the last few months.” He smiled thinly. “So you're in a better position to know. Do you think he did this?”

  I was about to just blurt out that of course I thought he did it, but managed to stop myself.

  Pretending to consider this, I answered, “I honestly don't know, Caesar. But I'll find out.”

  Putting his hand on my arm, Caesar looked up at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Pullus, I hope I don’t have to tell you how incredibly sensitive this is. If this were a civilian, or even a Gregarius, we could do whatever was necessary to make it go away, but of all the allies for this to happen to, the Jews would have been my last choice. They're as touchy about their honor as we are, and they take any crime perpetrated against them by a non-Jew almost as an insult to the whole group.” He shook his head. “I truly don't understand them, but what I do know about them makes me believe that if things aren't handled properly we'll have no end of trouble. And not just with the army. Do you understand?”

  I did not, really, but Caesar saying it was important made it so for me and I told him what he wanted to hear.

  Caesar dismissed me, but before I left he told me, “Time is critical here, Pullus. This needs to be resolved as quickly as possible. That means that I'm authorizing you to use whatever means you deem necessary to extract evidence from the men you suspect being involved in this.”

  I had just been given permission to torture Cornuficius, and despite how much I loathed the man, it chilled me to think about it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  I did not know with whom I could trust this matter among my Centurions, and I wished that I could talk to Cartufenus, but he was back in Alexandria. One thing that I was fairly sure about was that Cornuficius had not done anything to Joseph personally; he was too clever for that. He would have had some of his toadies in his Century do what needed to be done then dispose of the body, but the question was who they would be. Another thing to consider was how to go about asking questions without alerting Cornuficius and alarming him to the point where he ran for his life. I realized that it was extremely important to Caesar and the Jews that Cornuficius be brought to justice, formally and with due process and there was no way to do that if he escaped. I wish I could say that was my motivation as well, but in plain truth I did not just want him gone, I wanted him dead. Summoning Diocles, who I had grown to trust implicitly by this point, I confided in him the situation I was facing, asking him for ideas. It was he who came up with using himself to begin the preliminary questioning, talking to the slaves of the other Centurions along with some of the men with whom he had contact. Being my personal slave and clerk, Diocles was one of the most popular men in the Legion, the Gregarii bribing him for information about duties and such, something that I am sure he did not think I knew, judging by the look of surprise on his face as I dictate this fact. However, it was something I turned a blind eye to because I knew that he would not betray any truly important or sensitive information, therefore it was Diocles who began asking questions.

  Somewhat to my surprise, he returned in about two parts of a watch, his manner one of suppressed excitement. “Publius was one of them,” he announced.

  Now, there were a number of men named Publius in the Legion, but I knew exactly who he meant; it was my old friend Publius, who I had met the day I was introduced to the Legion. What I did not know at the time was that he was one of Cornuficius’ men, in more ways than one. In fact, Cornuficius had put Publius up to challenging me that day. Publius was Cornuficius’ muscle for keeping the other men in line and for his other schemes, extortion mostly, along with collection of money owed to Cornuficius for gambling debts. To be more accurate, the debts owed to the men Cornuficius used as his fronts for his gambling operations, since it is against regulations for Centurions to gamble with the men. Cornuficius was certainly not the only Centurion who skirted regulations, but every other Centurion I knew only did so occasionally, usually on things like crocodile feedings or something similar, and they did it honestly, winning or losing fair and square. But Cornuficius was not content to trust to Fortuna, preferring instead to rely on men he had trained with loaded dice. I had known, or more correctly suspected, what Cornuficius was up to for some time, yet I had been unable to prove it and frankly, I was more concerned with other matters like keeping as many of my men alive as I could. I supposed that Cornuficius felt comfortable gambling with Joseph because he was a fellow officer, but what puzzled me was how a sharp operator like Cornuficius had managed to lose to someone like Joseph. However, that was not my major concern, and now Diocles had given me a place to start, except I could not just go to Publius, grab him up, then drag him back to my tent; instead I would have to rely on someone I trusted. Thinking about Felix, I decided against it, not because I did not trust him but I did not want to put him in an awkward position with the other Centurions when this came to light. Then an idea struck me, and I told Diocles to go fetch someone.

  This was the first time that Gaius Tetarfenus had an occasion to be called into my presence and he was understandably nervous. I was struck by an unexpected pang of sympathy, remembering what it felt like to be a ranker called into the presence of the Primus Pilus. I immediately set out to put him at ease by offering him a seat, which was unusual and in fact had the opposite effect intended, making him even more nervous than when he first walked in. Consequently, I had Diocles bring some wine, offering him a cup, and I could clearly see his hand shaking as he took what Diocles offered.

  “Tetarfenus, you're not in any trouble. In fact, I need your help.”

  This seemed to help his nerves, but now he looked at me suspiciously; it is not often that a Primus Pilus asks a lowly Gregarius for anything other than sweat, blood, or both, sometimes at the same time.

  “There's a matter that I'm charged with investigating, and it involves Publius from Cornuficius’ Century.”

  I decided to be at least partially truthful with him, plus I was counting on a piece of information that I had been aware of for some time and I was gratified to see Tetarfenus’ lip curl at the mention of Publius’ name.

  “What has that piece of cac done now, sir?”

  I suppressed a smile at Tetarfenus’ open contempt, happy that I had guessed correctly and chosen a man whose hatred of Publius was so virulent, for that was the information I had received some time before, that there was much bad blood between Publius and the brothers Tetarfenus, though I did not know why.

  “That’s something you don’t need to worry about. But I need him brought here so I can question him, except it needs to be done discreetly.”

  He looked confused, so I rephrased my words. "Nobody should know that you bring him here. Particularly his Optio or Centurion.”

  I heard the sudden intake of breath as he looked at me sharply, suddenly wary. “May I ask why, sir?”

  “You can ask, but I'm not going to tell you, for a couple of reasons, which you don't need to know either. You need to trust me.”

  He did not reply, but finally nodded his head.

  His eyes narrowed in thought, then he said, “I'll need some help; he’s a big bastard. I can rely on my tent mates to give me a hand.”

  “And they'll keep their mouths shut?”

  He gave me a cold look, and while his words were polite, there was no mistaking the anger in his voice. “I'd trust them with my life Primus Pilus. I have been trusting them with my life for more than 16 years.”

  “Fair enough. I meant no offense. It’s just that, as I said, this must be kept quiet.”

  “I swear on Jupiter’s stone that we'll get him here without anyone knowing.”

  “How do you plan on doing it?”

  He grinned at me. "Primus Pilus, you don’t
really need to know that.”

  I laughed, then sent him on his way, but my stomach was in knots.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Tetarfenus was as good as his word. Shortly after midnight, when the camp was silent and dark, the men sleeping soundly, I heard a commotion outside my tent, whispered curses, and the sound of something being dragged. I was lying on my cot fully dressed, so I leaped to my feet, walking quickly into the front part of my tent just as Diocles was opening the front flap. Tetarfenus and three other men struggled past Diocles, dragging an inert form, dropping him at my feet. It was Publius, who was out cold, but when I examined him, I did not see any marks on him to indicate that he had been knocked out.

  I gave Tetarfenus a questioning look and he grinned at me. “Not a mark on him, Primus Pilus. We invited him to our tent to have a drink. We drugged his wine.”

  “But you hate him. He doesn’t know that?”

  Tetarfenus and the other men laughed, and he gave a shrug. “Nobody ever accused Publius of being smart. All he heard was free wine and he came running.”

  “Well, I can’t question him here. I have a wagon out back. Drag him to it and throw him in. Then you're dismissed.”

  They dragged Publius, who was snoring so loudly that I was sure that the sentries on the walking posts would hear him and come to investigate, dumping him into the back of the wagon. Before they left, I handed Tetarfenus a bag of coin, telling him to split it with his friends as he saw fit. His teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he saluted me before walking off, keeping to the shadows of the tents as he and his tent mates made their way back to their area. Jumping onto the bench, with Diocles beside me, we drove the wagon out of the camp. Nobody stopped to challenge me; I was the Primus Pilus of the 6th, my coming and going answerable only to the Legates and to Caesar himself. Driving to the building Caesar had selected as his praetorium, I dragged Publius out of the wagon and hoisted him over my shoulder, staggering under his weight. With Diocles leading the way, we headed for the basement. The building Caesar occupied was the provincial administrative offices, and there were cells in the basement where prisoners were held awaiting trial, along with a bare room that served as an interrogation chamber, and was where we headed. The headquarter guard that night were members of Caesar’s own bodyguard, replacing the men who were scheduled to stand guard, men from the 6th, since I did not want them seeing me dragging Publius off to gods know where, and they let us pass, not even giving us a second glance. It struck me that this had to be a common enough occurrence for these men that it did not warrant any extra attention, then shrugged the thought off. Publius was heavy and unconscious he was dead weight, making my legs shake from the strain, but I staggered down the stairs, following Diocles, who was carrying the lantern. We fumbled our way past the cells, which fortunately were empty, entering the chamber. There was a single chair, with arms that had ropes attached to them, along with leg irons chained to the feet of the chair. The two men from the torture detachment were standing there waiting for us, hard-faced men who looked almost bored. With their help, I dumped Publius into the chair, bound him with rope and chain, then we sat waiting for him to wake up.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Publius came to consciousness slowly, his eyes blinking as his scarred head lifted and he began looking around, clearly confused. He tried to stand, but the ropes and chains held him in place, causing him to fall back heavily, and he stared dumbly at his bindings as his brain, not the fastest part of him under best of circumstances, tried to make sense of his surroundings. I waited for his mind to register that he was not alone before stepping into the circle of light thrown by the single lantern that Diocles had lit. Debating with myself about wearing a mask or otherwise disguising myself, I quickly decided that besides being pointless, I could use it to my advantage. Not only was I Primus Pilus, I was one of the few men who had beaten Publius in his life, and I had done it fairly efficiently and easily. Once you do that to a man, you own a piece of his soul for the rest of his life, which was what I was counting on. So I stepped into the light, watching his face transform as he struggled to focus on me, the realization written plainly on his face when he recognized me that he was in deep trouble.

  “Gregarius Publius, I'm going to ask you some questions. You're going to answer the questions truthfully and you're going to tell me everything I want to know. Do you understand?”

  “Why am I tied down? I haven’t done anything!”

  “That’s not what I’ve been told. What I heard is that you're involved in something that has drawn the attention of Caesar himself. That’s why you’re here.”

  His face turned white at the mention of Caesar’s name, as it should have. For a ranker, to have his name mentioned in the same breath as Caesar’s meant either great things, or truly terrifying things, and Publius was smart enough to know that if Caesar was aware of his existence it was not for anything good.

  “I didn’t do anything, I swear by all the gods!”

  He began pulling at his bonds, and for a moment, I worried that he might break free, because Publius was nothing if not exceptionally strong.

  However, they held, so I waited for his struggles to subside before I spoke again. “Publius, I won't lie to you. Your fate is sealed. The only thing that is at question is the manner in which you die. It can be a quick, clean death, or you can spend your last watches in a torment of agony that you can't imagine.”

  Like all bullies, Publius’ strength was a sham, something superficial that was easily cracked under the first sign of pressure, and I was putting pressure on him now.

  “But why?” he whined. “I told you, I've done nothing!”

  “I need to know what happened to Joseph of Gaza.”

  His reaction was one of genuine puzzlement, so that for the briefest of moments I was struck by doubt. Then, I added, “The Jew that Cornuficius lost all that money to.”

  The words were barely out of my mouth when I saw his face change, a look of guilt flashing across his battered features, instantly banishing any doubts that I had.

  “I can see you know exactly what I'm talking about. You're going to tell me everything I need to know.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  I sighed in exasperation. “I need to know what happened to him, Publius. I need to know what you did.”

  “I. . I don’t know what you're talking about, Primus Pilus. There must be some mistake.”

  “The mistake is that you chose to follow Cornuficius’ orders.”

  I could see the wheels of his mind turning, but they turned very slowly indeed. “Orders from Cornuficius? I'm sorry, Primus Pilus, I don’t know what you mean.”

  I hit him with my open hand, the smack of the blow sounding loud against the stone walls. Before he could react, I hit him several times, all with my open hand but it was a hand hardened by many watches of training with a sword, and I put all of my weight behind it. Once I had finished, there was a thin trail of blood trickling from his nose and he was shaking his head, trying to clear it.

  “Perhaps this will jog your memory,” I said.

  Turning to the men from the torture detachment, I signaled for them to begin.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  I will not go into the details of the next couple of watches. Eventually, Publius confessed everything. He and two other men were summoned by Cornuficius, told to follow Joseph, with orders to kill him quietly, then dispose of the body. Publius gave a detailed description of where they dumped the corpse, or at least most of it; they had decapitated him, then fed his head to some pigs so that it would be harder to identify the corpse. They took Cornuficius’ marker for the debt, nothing more than a scrap of parchment to give back to Cornuficius, who was waiting in his tent for the deed to be done. What neither I nor Publius knew was that the Jews considered the pig an unclean creature, so apparently feeding Joseph’s head to such a beast made the crime that much more horrific, further enraging them. Once I had Publius’ full confession, I had Diocles summon Fuscus and Sertori
us, the latter being the one man I trusted in the 10th Cohort, summoning the former because he was the Pilus Prior, and whom I suspected would not mind being part of Cornuficius’ downfall. Diocles led them down to the basement where I was waiting outside the interrogation room, both of them still trying to shake the sleep off, obviously bewildered.

  “I need you two as witnesses and to accompany me when I arrest Cornuficius.”

  Clearly shocked, they looked at each other before Fuscus asked why, and I told him. I had expected at least Fuscus to be, while not happy, at least relieved that we were about to remove the man who was undermining his authority with the Cohort, but he was visibly shaken and seemed skeptical.

  “Forgive me, Primus Pilus, but I don't think that Cornuficius can be arrested without evidence.”

  Sertorius had remained silent, regarding me steadily, but he nodded his head in agreement. I had not planned on this and I felt the anger welling up within me, yet somehow I swallowed it down, forcing myself to acknowledge that Fuscus was acting correctly. Reluctantly, I opened the door to the interrogation chamber then waved them in, where Publius sat slumped in the chair, the men from the torture detachment sitting on the floor against the wall, resting from their exertions. At least, it was what remained of Publius, who was more dead than alive and had been begging me to kill him. I was glad that I had not done so yet, though it was not because I had any pity for him. The two Centurions both recoiled in shock at the sight of him, Sertorius giving me a look that I will never forget, an expression of mingled respect and disgust at what I had done to one of my own men. Ignoring him, I walked to Publius to shake him, and he almost tipped the chair over as he tried to avoid my touch, whimpering in fear.

  “I'm not going to hurt you again, Publius,” I said gently, and his pathetic expression of gratitude was like a javelin in my gut.