Soldier of Rome- Reign of the Tyrants

by James Mace

  “Indeed. He was but three years older than I am now. Poor fellow died of acute paralysis. My dear mother, the gods bless her, has never been the same. She maintains her stoicism, but I know she still mourns for him, even after all these years.” As he spoke, he continued to stuff himself with everything within reach, while quaffing copious amounts of wine.

  Galba raised an eyebrow as he gazed at the senator, who was gulping down another cup of wine and immediately demanding another. It was only the first course, and Vitellius had likely consumed more than most of the guests would all night. His complexion was red, and he was sweating as if he had run a great distance. The emperor, while fond of Vitellius, could not help but wonder how the man’s heart had not given out already.

  “You know,” Galba said, gently swirling the wine in his chalice, “I am in need of a new governor-general for Lower Germania.”

  Vitellius let out a belch before answering, “Really? I thought our last consul, Fonteius Capito, held the post.”

  “He did,” Galba replied. “But he appears to have met with an unfortunate accident.”

  His tone made clear he doubted Valens’ report that it had been a mishap, though Vitellius was oblivious to this. Were Capito someone Galba gave a damn about, he would have ordered an investigation. As it was, he needed no more troubles from the Rhine, and Capito was someone he was considering replacing anyway. That he had died leaving no viable heir meant that his estate reverted to the imperial treasury, which was an added windfall.

  “And you would like me to assume the governorship,” Vitellius stated. “I am honored that you would consider me, especially in light of the recent strife in Germania and Gaul.”

  “The death of Nero put an end to that,” Galba assured him. “And as the former Proconsul of North Africa, I fail to see any difficulties which you cannot readily manage.”

  It sickened Galba to use flattery, yet he understood it was one of the many methods he would have to employ as emperor. Some men could be coerced, others threatened, yet most would respond well to flattery. Galba knew Vitellius bore little, if any, resemblance to his father, and he preferred it that way. And while he had considered Lucius Vitellius a friend, Galba would have been reluctant to appoint such a powerful and charismatic statesman as governor of what was arguably the strongest military force in the empire. The emperor would privately, albeit begrudgingly, admit the only reason he was now Caesar was because Verginius lacked ambition, as well as imagination. But now that the matter of Germania was sorted, he decided to change the topic of conversation.

  “Your dear mother,” he said to Vitellius. “You say she is still with us, yes?”

  “She is, Caesar,” Vitellius acknowledged. “And she is in surprisingly good health. I have offered her rooms within my estate, yet she refuses to leave the house where she lived with my father. She does spend many days visiting with my wife, so it is almost as if she lives with us.”

  Galba had known Vitellius’ mother, Sextilia, rather well, though he had not seen her since the death of her husband. He reckoned she was probably three or four years older than he, and so it was quite remarkable that she was still alive and in good health. Her eldest son would be hard pressed to reach such an august age, if he did not cease in gorging himself so. It was quite the contrast for anyone watching, as Galba took small bites from modest portions, Vitellius continued to practically inhale entire plates of fruit, nuts, and various meat courses. Still, as uninspired as he may have appeared, Galba knew Vitellius possessed just enough competence to govern well. And his lack of command presence made him the last person who the emperor would ever view as a potential threat. Such a man was ideal for governing the same province which Galba had been compelled to lord over with an iron fist, all those years ago.

  Galba’s rather lengthy journey to Rome left an unexpected trail of bodies in its wake. Many of the people, patrician and commoner alike, were troubled by the almost random nature of executions ordered by the new emperor. Soon after hearing of Nymphidius’ death, Galba ordered the execution of his associates, which included one of the consul-elects for the next year, Cingonius Varro. Mithridates of Pontus, the one-time client king, now living in Rome, was also put to death. Rumor had it this was little more than a petty outburst by Galba, who took offense to Mithridates mocking him for his nearly bald head. Less publicly, though, were his orders for the violent removal of two men who he simply felt wielded far too much power, and whose loyalties he had many reasons to doubt. For this, he sent a single praetorian to North Africa and another to Judea.

  The killing of rivals was certainly not unprecedented, so while troubling, they did not cause outright alarm. After all, Augustus had ordered the death of Julius Caesar’s son, Caesarian, soon after his victory over the boy’s mother, Cleopatra. Rome’s first emperor had justified the killing, saying, ‘There can be only one Caesar’. If there was a method to Galba’s purges, it amounted to little more than executing those who offended him. And he only struck down those whose deaths would not spark large-scale outrage. Hence, the still popular Verginius had been spared from any sort of punishment at all, despite the abject fear his army had instilled in Galba.

  But it wasn’t just the removal of potential threats that delayed the emperor’s return. Lugdunum was not only the largest city in Gaul, it was also home of one of the imperial mints. Galba not only needed to secure the monetary assets, but he also desired to begin having his own coins cast immediately. With a great deal of assistance from Marcus Otho, coins from the Lugdunum mint began to pour into circulation, bearing the image of Rome’s newest emperor.

  Brass Sestertius of Galba

  By the second week of October, the imperial entourage was at last within view of the Eternal City. The procession was vast, with thousands of legionaries marching in column, with the emperor and his dignitaries behind them. At their head was the newly-raised Legio VII, Gemina. Several regiments of cavalry rode in file on either side of the road, keeping the curious crowds at bay.

  Tens-of-thousands of spectators lined the road, with a vast assembly gathered near the Milvian Bridge on the north bank of the River Tiber. Among these were around four thousand men, paraded in cohorts like a legion. Many were armed, and while they at least tried to show the order and discipline of soldiers, they wore little more than old tunics.

  “And who are they?” Galba asked, leaning over to Vinius. The emperor was astride his horse once more, wearing his armor and purple cloak, the laurel crown covering up much of his balding head.

  “I believe that is the ‘legion’ which Nero tried to raise from the fleets,” Vinius replied.

  “Ah, yes, I heard about them.” Galba gave a scoffing laugh. “What? Do they expect me to now confer upon them the status of legionaries?”

  Their question was soon answered as a senator, accompanied by two of the plebian tribunes, rode over to the emperor’s entourage. In his late thirties, with a thick head of black hair, strong jaw, and athletic build, he had the bearing of a soldier. Though Galba did not know the man, both Vinius and Laco recognized him as Drusus Benignus, a former legate who had served with distinction in both Germania and North Africa.

  “Hail, Caesar!” Benignus said, raising his hand in salute.

  “Senator Benignus,” Laco said, by way of introducing him to the emperor. “What pleasure is this?”

  “The pleasure is mine, to welcome our new emperor to the imperial capital,” the senator replied. He then held his hand open and waved it towards the mass of men behind him. “I have also been asked to speak on behalf of the former mariners assembled here.”

  “The same men who my predecessor had hoped to send against me?” Galba asked coldly.

  “They may have been raised by Nero,” Benignus explained, “but they are ready to fight for you, Caesar. They have not be formally constituted, and they wish to do so now, before you.”

  “This is ridiculous!” the emperor scoffed. “These men would have drawn swords against me, and now they thin
k I owe it to them to make them legionaries? Get this rabble out of my sight at once!”

  “We were promised, damn you!” a man from the crowd shouted.

  “A real emperor would keep the word of his predecessor!” another snapped.

  A chorus of protests, along with shouts of outrage and betrayal spewed forth from the gathering of former mariners. A number of men had drawn their blades and were waving them high in frustration. This last move proved catastrophic, for with the rapid blowing of trumpets, the emperor’s cavalry escorts formed into a large battle line and charged. Within two minutes of their first protests, the mariners were being assailed by a wave of imperial horsemen who rode through their ranks, trampling many while spearing others with their lances. Though armed, the protestors were devoid of shields, armor, or helmets making them completely vulnerable. A panic ensued amongst the mariners, as well as the on-looking crowds. And as the trumpets sounded a cease to the killing, several hundred bloodied and broken bodies were left on the field. A large number of bystanders had inadvertently been caught up in the killing as well, with their families screeching in anguish. The numerous wounded cried out for an end to their suffering, as the cavalrymen slowly rode back towards the column, over the field now slick with blood and littered with bodies.

  “Establish a camp here for the night,” Galba ordered. “We will finish the matter with this lot before we enter the city.”

  Flavius Sabinus was among the numerous senators and magistrates who left the city to join the emperor’s camp. He was accompanied by his nephew, Domitian, along with his ward, Aula Vale. Despite the horrific eruption of violence near the Milvian Bridge, there was a festival atmosphere at the various camps that extended for miles. People of the city spontaneously provided food, drink, and entertainment for the new emperor’s entourage, as well as the large military force that accompanied him. None knew this was not a celebration at all, but simply a pause in Galba’s march into the capital, so he might finish meting out his harsh brand of justice.

  Sabinus found Galba within his large principia tent. His closest advisors were the only ones within, as guards were keeping most of the populace away. Sabinus’ status as Prefect of Rome was the only reason they allowed him entrance.

  “Hail, Caesar,” he said with a respectful bow, Domitian and Aula following his example.

  “Ah, Sabinus,” Galba said, sitting upright in his chair. He was seated at a long table along with Vinius, Laco, Icelus, and the consuls, Italicus and Galerius.

  Marcus Otho sat at a side table with a group of praetors and quaestors, not yet deemed worthy to sit at the emperor’s table.

  “As Prefect of the City of Rome, it is my esteemed duty to welcome you,” Sabinus added. “You know my nephew, Domitian.”

  “Honored, Caesar,” the young man said.

  Galba’s jaw twitched, as he fought to suppress his discomfort at seeing both the brother and son of Vespasian. Would these two be so flattering towards him, once they heard of the emperor’s intended disposing of their kinsman?

  “And this is Aula Cursia Vale,” Sabinus continued.

  “Caesar,” she said, with an added bow.

  “Her father, as you may know...” Sabinus started to add.

  “Yes, I know his reputation well,” Galba interrupted. “A hero of the empire, and one who I regret I never had the honor of meeting in person. You’ll have to forgive me, Sabinus, but we are in haste to finish a rather unpleasant matter that transpired this afternoon.”

  “So I heard,” the city prefect replied.

  “You and your guests may sit,” the emperor said, offering empty seats at the table where Otho sat. “I do need to speak with you, once we are finished here.”

  Sabinus took the seat closest to Otho. He noticed Senator Benignus seated on the far side. His face was ashen, and he simply stared at the emperor.

  “Now then,” Galba said, addressing his advisors. “As I was saying, this was a gross insult, to say nothing of insubordination, that I was subjected to this afternoon. If order and discipline are to be maintained, then we must make an example of any who would disrupt it. I want the harshest of punishments exacted against these filthy renegades. But to do so, I must follow the letter of the law exactly. I propose we subject them to decimation.”

  This led to a number of uncomfortable mutterings among those gathered, and a stifled gasp from Aula. Decimation was an ancient punishment, where one in every ten soldiers was selected at random, and then put to death by his companions. The severest of punishments, usually for gross cowardice or insubordination, it was almost never used, even in the face of near-mutiny.

  “Sire,” Galerius said. “The long term effects on the morale of any unit punished in such a way would be devastating. It has been over a hundred years since it was last used for a unit charged with disobedience. Augustus abhorred the practice, and even the harsh disciplinarian, Tiberius, refused to consider it when the Rhine legions mutinied at the start of his reign.”

  “There is another matter, Caesar,” Laco added, before Galba could berate the consul for questioning him. “If you are to follow the letter of the law, you cannot sentence a unit to decimation that does not exist.”

  “Explain,” Galba said, an eyebrow raised.

  Galerius spoke up. “What he means, Caesar, is the only way for you to legally sentence the former mariners to decimation, is if you grant them their original request. For your actions to be lawful, they must first be constituted into a legion.”

  “We killed a couple hundred of them today,” Vinius said, with venom in his voice. “Submitting the rest to decimation will beat the survivors into supplication. I say we do it at once. We quash a mutiny, while gaining another legion.”

  Sabinus closed his eyes, horrified at what he was hearing. Though he knew about the unfortunate riot that had been brutally suppressed that afternoon, he thought the matter concluded. Little did he realize when he brought his nephew and young charge to see the emperor, that they were about to witness one of the greatest acts of cruelty seen in over a century.

  “Caesar, I must protest,” Benignus said, coming to his feet. He had sat in silence, listening to the deliberations for some time. As the man who the mariners asked to speak on their behalf, he felt he could remain silent no longer.

  “You have had your say, senator,” Vinius said.

  “Then at least do right by the innocent,” Benignus persisted. “Galerius, you mentioned that it has been over a hundred years since decimation was inflicted on a unit for insubordination. I will remind you all that this was during Julius Caesar’s conquest of Gaul, and was done only under the most desperate and regrettable of circumstances. Yet, like the generals before him who had to administer such an unfortunate sentence, he fixed the lots so only the guilty would die. I beg you, Caesar, to spare those who have done you no wrong this day.”

  “I am a man who follows the letter of the law,” Galba replied. “The exact letter of the law. That the divine Julius chose to break the law by fixing the lots is of little importance to me. What matters is that I follow the law, which states that the fate of these men will be left to the gods. I will grant this rabble that which they desire, they shall become a legion of the empire. Once they have been cowed into obedience, they will remain in Rome as the emperor’s legion. And Benignus, since you appear to have such a love for these men, you can lead the survivors.”

  The senator said nothing, but simply sighed and nodded in resignation. Galba then adjourned the meeting, with all standing and saluting. Sabinus made ready to leave when the emperor stopped him.

  “Prefect Sabinus!” he called.

  Sabinus walked over to Galba, who was being fitted with his formal robes by a pair of slaves.

  “I had thought to address this with you during a more formal meeting,” the emperor said. “But since you are here, I may as well inform you now. Your services as Prefect of the City of Rome will no longer be needed.”

  “Have I done something to offend y
ou, Caesar?” Sabinus asked. His voice was hard, and he fought to suppress his bitter feelings, especially after what he had just witnessed.

  “You have already held the post for the better part of eleven years, and we thank you for your service. You are by no means being exiled from public service. I have noted that you were selected to hold a two-month suffect consulship next year, and I intend to honor that. But for now, you are relieved of your duties to the city. Aulus Ducenius Geminus will be your successor. But come, you and your nephew will be my guests as we watch what happens to mutineers.”

  Aula maintained her distance as Galba placed a hand on Domitian’s shoulder, and the entire assembly left the large tent. She was horrified by what she had heard, and her stomach turned at the thought of witnessing what the emperor had ordered. She also had her suspicions that Galba was not having Sabinus and Domitian watch as his guests, but rather use the decimation of the new legion as a means of intimidating potential rivals.

  The mutineers were paraded outside the tent. There were still roughly thirty-five hundred of them, and they were surrounded by an encircling wall of legionaries. Pressing in behind the soldiers were thousands of curious citizens, many of whom had heard about the brutal savaging these men had been subjected to earlier that afternoon.

  The early evening sun cast its glow ominously behind the assembled mass of mariners, all appeared dejected and humiliated. They had witnessed numerous friends cut down by Galba’s rampaging cavalry, who murdered the badly wounded in cold blood, after the slaughter had ended. They were surprised to see Drusus Benignus taking the legate’s position in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the emperor. Galba assumed his chair on the center of the dais, hastily erected that afternoon. As one of the consuls, Italicus took it upon himself to address the men.

  “Former mariners of the imperial navy,” he said, “you came forth today to demand our emperor make good on a promise made to you by his predecessor, a man who was named an outlaw by the Senate of Rome. You then caused a riot, for which some of your companions paid the ultimate price. But Emperor Galba is a reasonable man, and he has seen fit to accede to your request. From this day forth, you will be known as Legio I, Adiutrix; the First Auxiliary Legion.”