Caesar Ascending-India Limited Edition

by R. W. Peake

Caesar smiled and replied, “Only this.”

  For the next several moments, he talked while Kamnaskires listened.

  When Caesar was finished, Kamnaskires didn’t hesitate, saying only, “In the name of the Elymais people, I accept your terms.”

  When Caesar returned to the army, the men had been allowed to drop their packs and settle down on the ground, making themselves as comfortable as possible, and it took more time than Pullus liked to rouse them and get them to their feet and ready to resume. Unsurprisingly, nothing about the meeting was relayed to the Legions, and the march continued until, about a watch before the normal time for stopping to build the camp for the night, they reached the spot where Caesar had met with Kamnaskires. The surprise came when the cornu sounded the command to halt first, followed by the notes that informed the army that their marching was done for the day. Immediately, the Legions broke ranks, moving in the familiar patterns that, after perhaps two parts of a watch, would see a fortified camp, with ditches and dirt walls, with towers constructed of precut wood and, unlike common practice, wasn’t destroyed the next day or whenever the march resumed, but disassembled. Once the camp was completed and the men settled into their nightly routine, the cornu sounded the call for all Primi Pili and senior officers to go to the praetorium, and as always, because of their proximity to each other in camp since every Legion occupied the same part of a camp every time, Pullus walked with Balbinus and Spurius to the forum. Filing into the combination officers’ mess and meeting room, they took their customary spots, chatting about the day’s march and the progress they had made to this point while they waited for the rest of the Centurions and Legates to arrive; Tribunes were traditionally barred from these meetings with Caesar. The room filled quickly, then Caesar strode in from his private office, followed by Apollodorus and a half-dozen other scribes, each of them still busily scribbling in their wax tablets.

  As usual, Caesar wasted no time, announcing, “We have a new ally.”

  He stopped then to allow the assembly to make their comments and speculation, but when it had gone on long enough, he held up a hand, then when the buzz died back down, he continued, “These new allies are the Elymais, who are Parthians…mostly.” This elicited more reaction, which Caesar ignored. “But they have been reluctant vassals of the Parthians, and I have concluded a treaty with them, whereby they will supply a certain number of men. More importantly, they will be guiding us through these mountains to the east that block our path to Istakhr. We’ll be able to cut more than a week off of our march and arrive at Istakhr much earlier than the enemy there expects.”

  The reaction to this was decidedly mixed, with some of the Centurions nodding their heads appreciatively; Pullus wasn’t one of them, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not because of what Caesar had said but from the elbowing of Spurius and Balbinus on either side. He ignored them as long as he could, but finally, with a muttered curse, he raised his hand.

  “Yes, Pullus?” Caesar acknowledged the huge Centurion.

  “How confident are you in the word of this prince…?”

  “Kamnaskires,” Caesar supplied the name of the Elymais. “No more confident than I am in any Parthian noble,” he answered honestly. “But he is offering up hostages, including his wife.”

  “Bah,” Balbinus muttered. “They have more wives than they have horses, so what does that mean?”

  Whether Caesar heard the Primus Pilus or understood this would be an objection was impossible to know, but he continued, “He’s also giving up his son and heir, also named Kamnaskires. They will be sent back to Susa, where they will stay with the other hostages.”

  This, as Caesar expected, made a difference to the others, signaled by their nods and murmurs of understanding.

  Continuing, Caesar said, “Kamnaskires also has informed me that, although they don’t have a large number of cataphractoi, consisting of only five hundred men of the royal bodyguard, the troops that the Elymais can field have special skills with the bow that enable them to be as proficient on foot as they are on horseback. Moreover, they are extremely skilled in moving over mountainous terrain. Based on what he’s told me of the ground, this will prove extremely useful when we take Istakhr. Of course, we’ll know more when we actually are able to scout the area ourselves.”

  “When will they be joining us?” Volusenus asked; he had been pressed into service as the quartermaster, along with his duties as Praefectus Fabrorum, which meant that it would be his responsibility to outfit and supply this new force, just one of the many challenges for anyone in this post.

  “According to Kamnaskires, they will be waiting for us at the spot where the route we’ll be taking starts, which we should reach before midday tomorrow,” Caesar answered.

  While Pullus sensed there was something that Caesar wasn’t telling them, he had decided that he had asked all the questions he intended, but he learned that he wasn’t the only one who noticed, when Spurius rose his hand.

  “This route we’re taking,” he asked carefully, “is there something we should know about it?”

  Pullus could see that this was something that Caesar didn’t like very much, although this was only discernible to someone who knew him well, with a narrowing of the eyes and the edges of his mouth turning down very slightly.

  Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate in answering, “Kamnaskires told me that it’s not going to be passable for our heavy baggage.”

  As soon as he said it, Pullus and the others understood why Caesar had been reluctant to mention this. As understandable as it might be, the idea of leaving the heavy baggage behind was bound to be resisted by the men, for the simple reason that it included the Legion wagons, upon which the personal fortunes of every man were carried in their Century strongbox, each man having a leather pouch locked inside it. While the Tesseraurius was one of two men to have a key, the other being the Centurion, locks could be picked, and this nervousness wasn’t confined to the rankers. Optios had their own strongbox, while Centurions had their own of varying size; not surprisingly, the Primus Pilus of a Legion had their own wagon, but only a couple of them looked ready to object. Certainly, Pullus wasn’t happy about it, but he also knew that Caesar wouldn’t make that decision lightly, and what he said next seemed to confirm this.

  “I’ve already sent Decurion Silva ahead of us to meet with Kamnaskires, and I’ve also instructed him to make the Elymais take him a fair way along the route ahead of us. If it appears that we’ve been misled about the severity of the route, then we’ll adjust accordingly. We’ll still be able to bring the Parthian carts,” he finished by referring to the small two-wheeled carts that could be pulled by a single mule, or in a pinch and if not heavily loaded, by a man.

  Nobody asked what he meant by “adjust”; they were all veterans who had been marching for the Dictator for varying lengths of time, so they understood perfectly that he wasn’t just referring to whether to bring the baggage train. With no other questions for the moment, the men were dismissed to return to their respective Legions, each of them deciding the best way to inform their men.

  With every mile that drew Caesar and the army closer to Istakhr, the tension mounted, but not for the obvious reason of the prospect of a fight, since if the scouts were correct, this wasn’t in the offing. Every day they returned from scouring the countryside, it was with the same report; there was no sign of anything resembling an army, or even an armed band, at least in a tangible sense. All that was ever found were hoofprints that roughly paralleled the army’s line of march, but while they always numbered more than one or two horses, it was never more than a dozen. Despite his standing orders to avoid molesting the populace, by the time they reached the outlying villages that were arranged around Istakhr, starting about twenty-five miles from the city, Caesar was sufficiently disturbed to suspend those orders and to begin using more vigorous methods to extract information from those poor Parthian farmers who were unfortunate enough to be scooped up by Roman cavalry. As soon as this prac
tice began, Kamnaskires proved eager to be involved, not just as an interpreter, but as an active participant, something that Caesar found somewhat curious, until the prince explained himself.

  “These people belong to a satrap who coveted our satrapy for himself,” Kamnaskires explained, making no attempt to hide his bitterness. “He was always in the King’s ear, telling Orodes that we Elymais couldn’t be trusted to be loyal, and how we needed a ‘firmer hand’ than my father’s.” He paused for a moment, then added something that Caesar found intriguing, “He was right about that. My father was much too…lax in how he ruled our satrapy. But,” at this, he turned to look Caesar directly in the eye, “that is for no man who is not Elymais to decide.”

  Rather than immediately confront what Caesar could see was a challenge to his authority, instead he asked Kamnaskires, “Who is this satrap? What is his name?”

  “Gobryas,” Kamnaskires replied, then spat on the ground next to his plodding horse. “His mother is my aunt.”

  That, Caesar thought with some amusement, sounds like our own patricians, intermarrying with rival families, but it was a passing thought because the name Kamnaskires had mentioned sounded familiar. Turning in his saddle, his eyes scanned the faces of his command group, then spotting the one-eyed Parthian, Caesar ordered one of his Germans to go back to bring Teispes to him.

  When the Parthian arrived, pulling up on the opposite side of Caesar, although Gundomir refused to let him ride directly next to the Roman and thrust his horse’s nose into the spot directly next to his general, Caesar wasted no time, asking Teispes, “Kamnaskires here mentioned that the satrap who controlled this satrapy is named Gobryas. Do you know if…”

  “Yes, Caesar,” Teispes answered, but despite the Parthian cutting Caesar off irritating Gundomir, his commander didn’t appear bothered. “Gobryas was the satrap of Istakhr.”

  “Was?” Kamnaskires’ interest increased instantly, and he leaned forward to look past Caesar and Gundomir to demand from Teispes, who he had never met before until a few days earlier, “Does this mean that he is dead? Are you certain of this?”

  Teispes had taken an instant disliking to the Elymais prince, but even before the fall of Susa, when he had been the real commander of the Crassoi and had been responsible for ensuring the loyalty of Crassus’ former Legionaries, he had held his own counsel and rarely betrayed his feelings.

  Now, with this change in circumstances, he was even more circumspect, so his tone was bland as he assured Kamnaskires, “Yes, it means he is dead. And yes,” he finished mildly, “I am certain that he is dead.”

  That Kamnaskires refused to accept this simply reinforced Teispes’ dislike and distrust of the youth, which clearly didn’t matter to the Elymais as he persisted, “How can you be certain? Did you see his body? And,” he demanded, “how do you know that the man you are speaking of is the same man I am talking about?”

  Before Teispes could respond, Caesar held out a hand in his direction, which the Parthian correctly interpreted, and Caesar, indulging in a practice that drove Titus Pullus to distraction, didn’t provide a direct answer, asking instead, “Kamnaskires, what do you know of Teispes here?”

  This clearly threw Kamnaskires off balance; he was completely absorbed in confirming what, to his ears, was a matter of divine retribution…and opportunity, so his tone was abrupt as he answered, “What do I know of him? Nothing,” he shook his head with a frown, “but why does that matter?”

  “Well,” Caesar’s tone was genial enough, at least to anyone who didn’t know him, but Gundomir, and the other Romans within earshot, clearly heard the icy edge there, and proving that Teispes wasn’t alone in his dislike, or at least distrust of Kamnaskires, Pollio and Hirtius, riding just behind Caesar and the Parthians, exchanged a grin as Caesar answered, “it matters because Gobryas was left behind at Susa by Phraates, and Teispes here was one of his subordinates. And,” he finished blandly, “he was there when Gobryas was killed.”

  Precisely as Caesar had intended, this instantly deflated, and more importantly, embarrassed Kamnaskires, who at least had the grace to appear so as he simply said, “Oh. I was not…aware of that.” Once more leaning so he could make eye contact with Teispes, he added, “My apologies, Lord Teispes. I had no idea.”

  As was his habit, Teispes didn’t offer a verbal reply, simply nodding his head in acceptance of the prince’s words, but then in a gesture that he meant, and was taken by Kamnaskires as a signal of the one-eyed Parthian’s true feelings, he returned his attention to the front, where the tail end of the vanguard Legion was barely visible through the dust. And, after a brief period of silence, Caesar returned his own attention to what was more important in the moment than whatever it was Kamnaskires had in mind to avenge himself on the people who once belonged to a dead man.

  “You know this area better than any of our scouts,” Caesar told Kamnaskires, “so if whoever’s left to fight us isn’t in or around Istakhr, where would they go?”

  Despite the fact that he was still grappling with this fresh bit of news, Kamnaskires did have enough presence of mind to understand that he needed to set this aside for the moment, and he considered the question for a moment before answering honestly, “Truly, Caesar, I am not sure.” He thought for a span of several more heartbeats before he offered, “The land to the north is very, very barren, and there is very little water. If they go south, the way is more mountainous, but there is a lake…”

  Before he could go any farther, Caesar cut him off, instantly knowing what Kamnaskires was talking about, “Yes! That’s right! The old city of Gor is at the bottom of that lake because Alexander flooded it.”

  Kamnaskires nodded, miffed at being deprived of the opportunity to show his knowledge of history, but curbed the retort that was on his lips, saying instead, “Surrounding that lake is a small valley, which is in turn protected by a ring of very rugged mountains that form a…” he thought for the right term in Greek, finally coming up with it, “…semicircle around it. Those mountains are between where we are now and this valley.”

  “If it’s a semicircle, then we can go around it,” Pollio interjected, now that everyone was listening intently.

  “Yes,” Kamnaskires acknowledged, but in such a way that Caesar instantly discerned that there was something more than a straightforward answer.

  “What is it?” he asked the prince. “There is clearly something about this that is a problem.”

  Kamnaskires nodded, grateful that Caesar had provided the opening he needed to speak up, without drawing suspicion that he had some sort of ulterior motive for informing his new allies about the reality.

  “The problem,” he explained, “is that we have already passed the outer edge of those mountains, so we would have to reverse our course and go back before we can turn south to get around them.”

  “How far?” Caesar asked.

  He had to think for a moment before he answered, “At least twenty miles.” Turning to gaze to the south, Kamnaskires studied the terrain, searching for landmarks, which caused him to amend, “Closer to twenty-five. Perhaps even a bit more.”

  Caesar stifled a curse. The thought that this would cause an inevitable delay, not just to finishing off this last group of Parthians, but more importantly, the second part of his plan to load his army aboard the fleet that had just been completed a month earlier, was unacceptable to Caesar.

  Fortunately, Kamnaskires wasn’t through, because he added, hesitantly, “However, there is another way.”

  Not surprisingly, Caesar reacted to this immediately.

  “What do you mean? What other way?”

  The cause for Kamnaskires’ hesitance came out in his answer as he said, “There is a…break in the line of mountains, almost due north of this valley.”

  Suddenly realizing that he didn’t possess the necessary vocabulary to describe it, he stopped his horse, then without a pause, dropped down onto the ground to squat so that he could draw in the dust. He did this abruptly enoug
h that Pollio, who was directly behind him, was forced to curb his mount so violently that the animal reared and almost unseated him, but when he opened his mouth to chastise the prince, Caesar caught his eye and gave him an abrupt shake of the head, clearly more intent on learning what Kamnaskires was trying to show him. Quickly, the Elymais drew a curving line that formed what Caesar saw was clearly the semicircle of the mountains. Then, with a swipe of his hand, he rubbed out a section at the top of the arc, but before Caesar could question him, he then drew a single straight line, just above the gap in the semicircle.

  Pointing down at the straight line, Kamnaskires explained, “This is a hill that guards the only spot in these mountains that is passable on horseback. See,” he pointed down to the gap, “there is a break in the mountains that leads directly south into that valley.” Moving his finger back to the line, he shook his head as he finished, “We would have to move around this hill, and if I was whoever was defending this valley, I would be on this hill, waiting to rain down arrows on anyone trying to pass by.”

  Not only Caesar but everyone surrounding Kamnaskires and looking down at his crude but clearly drawn map understood now why the prince had been hesitant, and for a long moment, nobody spoke, the only sounds those of the army continuing to march. Since no halt had been sounded, those men of the command group who had not been immediately near their general continued past, each of them doing their best to see exactly what was going on with the Parthian prince kneeling in the dirt.

  “I suppose,” Hirtius spoke up, “a lot will depend on how many men there are on that hill.”

  Caesar remained silent, but he gestured to Kamnaskires that indicated he had seen enough, and that the man should remount, so within a few heartbeats, they had resumed their own progress.

  Finally, Caesar looked over at Kamnaskires and said, “As I recall, you boasted about the prowess of your men at moving across terrain like that.”