Marching With Caesar - Civil War (67 page)

~ ~ ~ ~

After my visit with Apollonius, I went to see Torquatus the evening before I was scheduled to take command of the 10th, not sure what kind of reception I would get. Much to my relief and not a little surprise, Torquatus seemed genuinely pleased to see me, waving me in to his private quarters while offering me wine. At first, we talked about the events in Alexandria and against the Bosporans, and I told him some of the funnier moments that had happened, like when some of the men of the 6th had gotten drunk then tried to ride one of the wild water horses that inhabit the Nile, with the results you can imagine.

Finally, I steered the conversation to the reason I had shown up in the first place. “How are the men, really?”

Torquatus stared into his cup a moment before he answered. I could see how the last year had aged him at least ten just from appearances. “I don’t honestly know anymore, Pullus. One day they're like the old days, when we were in Gaul, then the next they're angry and bitter at not just Caesar but all of the Centurions. And some of the Centurions aren’t any better.”

“Anyone in particular you care to name?”

“Balbus,” he spat the name out.

I cannot say I was surprised that he named him, but something about it did not add up to me, so I decided to reserve judgment on Balbus until I could form my own opinion. “And your old friend Celer, though he’s just more of a nuisance than anything else. Scribonius has done a good job of neutralizing him.”

“How is Scribonius doing?”

He considered my question, then nodded thoughtfully. “He’s doing a good job, better than I thought he would just by looking at him.”

I laughed. What Torquatus said was true; he was not much to look at, especially when thinking of a Centurion. He had always looked, and in some ways acted more like a tutor of high-born children than a member of Rome’s Legions. Yet, I knew better than anyone how deceptive it was.

“And what of Domitius?”

I did not have to identify which Domitius I was referring to; Torquatus knew exactly who I meant.

He rubbed his face before he answered, then let out a long breath. “I wouldn’t call Domitius one of the ringleaders of the problems with Caesar, but he certainly is one of the most vocal.”

I had to laugh at that, for truer words were never spoken about Vibius, since being quiet had never been one of his strengths. He was always more than willing to speak his mind, no matter who it hurt and while I was not much better, compared to Vibius, I was the soul of discretion.

Torquatus continued, the laughter dying in my throat as he spoke. “The problem is that he has a lot of influence, more than one would think of an Optio, even if he is in the Second Cohort. A lot of men in other Cohorts look to him for his opinion on things. There are always a lot of people around his fire.”

“It’s always been that way,” I countered.

“Yes, but we never had trouble with Caesar like this before, and now, more than ever, men have to watch what they say.”

I stared at him, trying to determine his meaning. It took a moment, except it should have been clear to me immediately, especially after what had happened to Verres Rufus.

Finally, I asked, “Is he in any danger of disappearing?”

Torquatus looked uncomfortable at my open reference to that thing that went on in Caesar’s army that we never talked about, his eyes instinctively darting to the darker corners of the tent like there might be someone lurking there writing down all that we said. Seeing his reaction, I almost looked over my shoulder at one point because his eyes fixed on something behind me.

Then he shrugged, saying, “Not that I'm aware of, but I think the more he talks, the higher on the list he'll go. I think I'd have a word with him if I were you.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. We aren’t exactly on good terms.”

“I know. I was there, remember?” Torquatus said dryly. “I thought you were going to kill him, I truly did.”

“So did I,” I said soberly.

For several moments neither of us spoke, each alone with our own thoughts of all that had transpired.

Finally, I broached the subject that had given me the most worry. “Torquatus,” I began, knowing I sounded awkward, yet not knowing how to phrase things differently, “I just want you to know that I didn't have anything to do with Caesar’s decision to replace you with me as Primus Pilus.”

Torquatus waved a hand to reply, “I know that. The truth is I'm happy that you’re taking over the 10th. Too much has happened with these men. I'd rather start off with a new bunch of fresh meat that I can mold into what I want. These bastards are too hard-headed now.” Suddenly realizing the exact import of his words, Torquatus gave me a look of embarrassment. “Sorry, Pullus, I don’t mean to make it sound so grim for you. But the truth is I’m not hard enough for this bunch, and I suspect you are.” He leaned forward, staring intently into my eyes. "I know we’ve never been friends exactly, but know that what I'm about to say isn't meant in any way as an insult to you. All right?”

I nodded that I understood.

“It’s just that everyone knows how ambitious you are, and that you'll do whatever needs to be done to advance your career. I think that’s why Caesar picked you, because he knows that the 10th needs a firmer hand than I can provide right now. The problem with me is that, between you and me, I agree with the men. I think that we’ve been given the
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end of the sponge by Caesar, and that he owes us and should pay us what he owes us. Now, not tomorrow.”

“I agree that Caesar owes the men,” I said cautiously, thinking back to my conversation with Apollonius, where I had told him essentially the same thing, if not in quite such blunt terms.

“Yes, but would that stop you from enforcing Caesar’s will?”

I shook my head, causing Torquatus to slam his hand down on the table, making me jump. “Exactly! You'd still do whatever Caesar ordered, whether you agreed with it or not. I saw it that day at Pharsalus when you almost cut Domitius in half. I could never have done that, and I know it.”

I knew that he was trying to compliment me, yet it certainly did not feel complimentary, when put the way Torquatus had. I did not know what to say, so I just mumbled something about duty and such, then took a long drink of wine.

~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning before formation, I had a case of nerves that was perilously close to those I felt right before battle. I should have felt like I was coming home, but that was not the case, at least not on this morning. Taking extra pains to make sure my awards and decorations were polished to a high gleaming finish, I cursed the absence of Diocles who normally took care of these things for me. Finally, I knew I could delay no longer, and I left my tent to march to the forum, where the 10th, or what remained of them, were waiting, where I saw they were turned out in full uniforms as well. I have to say I was pleased with what I saw, thinking that at least they had made the effort to impress me. Marching to the head of the formation, my eyes traveled over the faces of so many friends, men I had known for half of my life and one that I had known almost all of it. Vibius was standing in his spot as Optio of the First Century of the Second Cohort, his face showing nothing. Scribonius gave me a slight smile and tip of the head, which I returned. I could not see any of the other Centurions of the Second, being lined up behind the First Century as they were, but I would meet with them soon enough. In the ranks, I saw men that I had fought and bled beside, men with whom I had quarreled and men with whom I had spent watch upon watch talking to about all manner of things. In most of their faces I saw what I like to think of as welcome and happiness that one of their own had returned to lead them. Vellusius was positively beaming from ear to ear, while even Didius was looking at me with a grimace that was his version of a smile. The one strange thing about that formation is that I have no recollection of what I said, except in a very general sense, that I was happy to be back and that I expected great things of the 10th that would add more honors to the Legion. I do remember I made no mention of what had happened between Caesar and them, as a message that I did not plan on holding that against them and that we were starting over fresh. Dismissing the men, I then called for a meeting of the Pili Priores to meet in my tent immediately after the formation.

The men arrived, filing into my private quarters where we all shook hands. Each man offered his congratulations, and in some cases, they were sincere. Scribonius, I hugged, kissing him on both cheeks, something I did not normally do, but I was extremely happy to see a friendly face. These men were the best from each Cohort, yet like any group of men, there were those who were stronger than others. What I found comforting was that unlike my introduction with the 6th, I was not walking in cold, because I knew these men. Even if I had not served in the same Cohort with them, men talk about their Centurions, meaning I knew more about each of these men than I had any of the Centurions of the 6th. Of course, there was Scribonius, his command of the Second Cohort solidified and no longer questioned, at least according to Torquatus. The Third Cohort was commanded by Titus Camillus, who had been the Tertius Pilus Prior since before I had been an Optio. He was a good, solid man though he had never expressed any desire to advance to the next grade of Centurion and up into the Second Cohort. The Fourth Cohort was led by Spurius Maecius, who had followed the more traditional route for promotion, climbing from the Tenth to his present position in the Fourth. The Quincus Pilus Prior was Decimus Velinus, a compact, muscular Gadean who was one of the veterans salted into the 10th when we were formed up, making him a bit older than the rest of the other Centurions. The Sixth’s Centurion was Lucius Horatius, and of all the Pili Priores he was the one I was most concerned with. He had a reputation for brutality with his men, leading more from fear than from admiration, a trait that I despised. The Seventh Cohort was led by Gnaeus Fabius, another older man, but he was part of the original enlistment, joining at around twenty-four or twenty-five, and was capable, if a bit unimaginative, the kind of leader I would call a plodder. Nonetheless, he was dependable and that counted for much, particularly at this point in time. The Eighth’s Pilus Prior was Quintus Falernus, and he was another man I was worried about, but for different reasons than Horatius. He was a sharp dealer, in much the same way as the departed Longus had been, seeing his men as an extra source of income, over and above what was customary and normal for a Centurion. The Ninth was commanded by Publius Sabatinus, and I would say he was from the same mold as Scribonius and in fact, they had become close friends. He was our age, and I had my eye on him as someone who had the abilities to become a Primus Pilus someday. Finally, there was the 10th, led by Vibius Esquilinus, another younger man who was part of our original enlistment and had not been in the Centurionate long, less than two years, but was a solid man and a capable leader. These were the men who I would be relying on and who I also needed to learn more about. Specifically, I needed to find out who had been involved in the business on the Campus Martius, but that would come later. Each of them gave me a brief report on their Cohort; number of men currently on the sick list, on punishment, and total number of effectives. The numbers were disheartening, to say the least, the 10th having been whittled down to less than half strength by this time. Illness had been particularly savage to the men, but that was to be expected from life in camp. I believe I have mentioned that whenever we were in one place for an extended period of time, the rate of illness would go up dramatically, something I have developed my own theories about and had long since enforced in my own command. Now that I was in control of the whole Legion, I was eager to put those measures into effect to see if it would help on a larger scale. The meeting ended with a toast to the health of the Legion, and to success in the coming operation, which I promised to give more details about once I learned them myself. With that, the Pili Priores were dismissed.

~ ~ ~ ~

The next meeting was with the Centurions of the First Cohort, and I held it immediately after the first, sending for the men while scribbling some notes on things that needed to be done based on what I had been told by the Pili Priores. It was quickly becoming obvious that this was going to be a massive job, much more challenging than handling the two Cohorts of the 6th, and that I would be relying on the Pili Priores much more heavily than I had initially thought. The next group of Centurions arrived, requesting entrance, and I waved them in, whereupon we went through the same rituals of greeting and welcome, each of the men formally offering their congratulations on my promotion. Quickly recognizing that if I wanted to get any work done that day, I decided I was going to have to start watering my wine, my head getting a little thick. The Centurions of the First Cohort sat, looking expectantly at me, but before I said anything, I took a quick stock of the men sitting before me. Pilus Posterior was Marcus Glaxus, who had, at some point in the past, been Torquatus’ Optio before he was promoted to the Centurionate, and Torquatus spoke highly of the man. Glaxus had a calm, capable demeanor that I hoped boded well for our service together. The Princeps Prior was Balbus, who I have already described, and who sat looking calmly at me, his arms folded as I wondered what was going on behind the mask that was his face. Princeps Posterior Servius Arrianus was a slender piece of chewed leather, his face marred by a scar that ran underneath his mouth, running almost ear to ear, giving him a leering expression. However, he was anything but a jokester, having a reputation as one of the most courageous men in the Legion. Hastatus Prior Servius Metellus, a squat, barrel-chested man originally from Narbonese Gaul, sat looking decidedly nervous, making me wonder if he was one of the men I had to keep an eye on. Finally, the Hastatus Posterior was Gaius Varus, an exceedingly ugly man almost completely covered in dark, coarse black hair, with a thick set of eyebrows that met in the middle of his forehead, making it look like he had one single eyebrow instead of two. He was so singularly unattractive that I had to force myself to keep from staring at him, instead turning my attention back to the wax tablet sitting on my desk, pretending to study it. Finally composed, I began speaking, using the same speech that I had used with the Pili Priores, before asking each of them for a report on their Century. The news was even grimmer for the First Cohort than it had been for the rest of the Legion, since the First Cohort traditionally is one of the first, if not the first into battle, because of its position on the front line. Also, the First is where the Legion eagle is carried, and is always the focal point of an enemy trying to get to it to take it as a prize and as a way to destroy our fighting spirit. Once I received their reports, I answered their questions, all of which had to do with the coming campaign in Africa before dismissing them, while asking Balbus to stay behind. He stood waiting for the others to leave, and I watched carefully as the men filing out shot him glances, trying to see if there were any whispered warnings or conspiratorial looks between them as they left. Balbus remained standing, then once the men had left, I waved him to sit back down, which he did warily, once again his face revealing none of his thoughts.