Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony, page 18
By this time, Marcus Antonius had moved on to Athens, where from all accounts he was living up to his reputation for debauchery. I imagine that he was never sober enough to bother answering the procession of letters from every one of his lieutenants asking for direction. As a result, they did nothing, allowing Octavian, or more accurately Agrippa to surround Perusia then invest it, cutting off not only its food but its water supply. This was the situation as winter set in during the year of the Consulship of Lucius Antonius and Publius Servilius Vatia Isauricus. It was at this time of utmost crisis that Marcus Antonius decided that it was time for a holiday in Alexandria with Cleopatra.
The part of the army with Antonius was left behind in Ephesus, where we moved into winter camp, with Saxa left in command. Meanwhile Antonius sailed to Alexandria from Athens, after a brief stop in Ephesus. He held a meeting of Primi Pili, and I was shocked at his appearance; his face puffy from night after night of excess, his eyes dull and his breath rank, but his voice was strong and he was his usual blustering self. His orders were the usual useless drivel. Keep the men fit and ready to fight, announcing that he planned on leaving for Parthia the next spring. Corbulo was standing next to me and we exchanged a glance at this news, Corbulo raising his eyebrows in doubt, a feeling I shared. It just seemed that there was too much going on in Italia for Antonius to feel secure enough to summon the bulk of the army to join the expedition. I refused to believe that even Antonius would be so reckless as to march on the Parthians with a fraction of his army. Word had reached us just how bad things were in Italia, the gossips in the upper classes telling tales of how Antonius’ wife Fulvia had apparently lost her mind, taking up residence in the camp of Plancus, walking about with a sword strapped to her hip, giving orders while, if the most outlandish tale was to be believed, issuing the daily watchword like she was the general and not Plancus. As one can imagine, this was the main topic of conversation in our winter huts, the men grinning at each other as they speculated on what was really taking place in the Praetorium between Fulvia and Plancus. It did not take long after Antonius arrived in Alexandria that word reached us that he had finally achieved his conquest of Cleopatra, more or less picking up where he had left off in Tarsus a few months before. The parties and revels were so licentious and bawdy that the subject of them quickly replaced all the conjecture about a possible illicit affair between Fulvia and Plancus. Apparently it did not take long for Cleopatra to fall into the spirit of what was going on, as together they formed the Society of Inimitable Livers, he as the new Dionysus and she as Aphrodite. I will not detail all of the legendary excess of this “society,” but while it did not sit particularly well with the army, it did give us a topic of conversation to while away the long winter nights. Men of all ranks tried to come up with the most bizarre and wasteful acts imaginable, claiming that they had it on good authority that these were not figments of their imaginations, but had actually happened. The more outrageous the act, the easier it was for the men to believe, and as I sat and listened in the Centurions’ mess, I must admit that I was just as likely to believe as anyone. Through Diocles’ slave network I was hearing what was supposedly actually taking place, and the things I heard through Diocles were barely different than the imaginings of my comrades. This was the manner in which most of the winter passed, along with the normal drudgery and routine of army life in winter camp. Scribonius, Balbus and I spent many thirds of a watch together, discussing the political situation, reminiscing about times past, and letting the dice fly, as we waited for spring.
The year of the Consulship of Gnaeus Domitius Calvinus and my old general, Gaius Asinius Pollio, started eventfully, with two events on opposite sides of our world. Perusia fell, and with it Lucius Antonius and Fulvia’s attempt to destroy Octavian, an attempt that would have succeeded had Marcus Antonius simply given the orders to his other generals to come to the aid of his brother and wife. While Lucius was allowed to keep his head and his freedom, as were the men of the army, all of them receiving pardons from Octavian, the citizens of the city were not so lucky, Octavian ordering the execution of many of its leaders, as well as allowing his own troops to sack the city. This act did not sit well with the Italians, Octavian’s reputation suffering accordingly, but he clearly did not care. In the East, the king of the Parthians, Orodes, sent one of his sons Pacorus, along with another famous general’s son, none other than Quintus Labienus, at the head of an army into Syria. The news of a Parthian invasion bestirred Antonius from his idyll in Alexandria, prompting him to travel overland to Antioch, and it was in Antioch that he got word of the fall of Perusia. Only then did he seem to recognize that no matter how alarming the situation in Syria was, Italia was more important. He rode hard to Ephesus, not staying long enough for any kind of meeting with us, taking ship to Athens. We were left with no clear instructions, because Saxa had gone to Antioch to monitor events in Syria, so the Primi Pili had a meeting on our own, deciding to step up the training schedule to make the men as ready as we could in the event that the Parthians continued their advance or we were ordered to stop them.
The men grumbled, but their hearts were not in it, being just as bored as the Centurions, knowing that sweating more now meant bleeding less later, so they fell to the increased training with a will. By the time Antonius arrived in Athens, Fulvia had already arrived there. If there had not been enough to talk about before, Antonius’ treatment of Fulvia was soon the fodder of mealtime conversations, as he took his rage at the reverse at Perusia out on her, not that I can blame him much. Women, especially noble Roman women, are not supposed to be giving commands to armies, in fact have no business in an army camp, unless they want to be thought of as a camp follower. Still, Antonius threw Fulvia out in the street. Depending on which version you heard, he either beat her so badly that she never recovered and died, or that she killed herself. Either way, it was a bad end for a woman who had been married to some of the most famous men of the Republic. While all this was going on, the Parthians were consolidating their gains, the absence of Antonius making the petty princes of the region feel it more politic to throw their lot in with Pacorus and Quintus Labienus. Saxa was captured and executed; at least that was what we heard. With these developments, Antonius sent word that we were to leave Ephesus to sail to Apollonia, with orders to wait for the situation in Italia to stabilize before Antonius could turn his attention to the Parthian problem. It took the better part of two weeks to get the men ready to move, then find adequate shipping, so that by the time we left, the Parthians were less than three days’ march away. We had no illusions about any ability to stop the Parthian army, our scouts reporting that we were outnumbered more than ten to one, so nobody complained about a sea voyage under the circumstances.
We ended up sitting in Apollonia for the next two years, as first one problem, and then another kept popping up that involved either Antonius, Octavian, or the both of them together. Their relationship was as tempestuous as any love affair, seeming that on almost a daily basis, there were stories of blazing arguments and threats of war, followed by pacts of amity that lasted only as long as the next fight. Sextus Pompey was a constant thorn in the side of Octavian, and it turned out that Antonius and Sextus had formed their own secret agreement to work against Octavian. There were betrayals at all levels; the most sensational and shocking was that of Salvidienus Rufus, who made a secret deal with Antonius. Antonius revealed this to Octavian in a fit of temper during one of their arguments, resulting in the execution of Rufus for treason at the order of Octavian. Finally, the two of them made yet another solemn pact, this time meeting at Brundisium, for which the pact became known, where Antonius solemnly vowed to stop helping Sextus and sided with Octavian to defeat the last Pompey, among other things. Despite the pact, Antonius did not feel secure enough to leave the vicinity of Italia, and therefore divided his time between Athens and the peninsula, while the Parthians, in the person of Quintus Labienus and Pacorus, consolidated the gains they made in the East.
Labienus, in particular, was making quite a name for himself in his own right, following in his father’s bloody footsteps while adding a few wrinkles of his own. Once the Pact of Brundisium was finalized, only then did Antonius turn his attention back to the East, but instead of choosing to lead the army himself, he put Publius Ventidius, Caesar’s old quartermaster, in charge. He was in his sixties by this time, but in good health. Despite the fact that he was Antonius’ man through and through, he was widely respected. He was best known for what had happened to him as a child in Asculum, which had been taken and sacked during the Italian War, when he was forced to walk under the yoke by none other than Pompey Magnus’ father, Pompeius Strabo. Strabo flogged, then beheaded every Asculan male between 15 and 70, sending the remaining women and children out into the cold of winter, where several thousand more died. Ventidius survived by his wits, living off what he could steal, until a mule breeder took pity on him and gave him a job. The mule breeder was a wealthy man in his own right, having a daughter who fancied the young Ventidius. They ended up married, with Ventidius inheriting everything when the old man died. Ventidius started by selling mules to Caesar, then using his position, sought an audience with him, somehow convincing Caesar to give Ventidius a position as a Legate of one of the Legions. This was in the later stages of the Gallic campaign, yet Ventidius distinguished himself nonetheless. Now, Antonius was entrusting him with an army of eleven Legions, plus whatever cavalry he could scrape together. His orders were to sail to Ephesus and expel Quintus Labienus from Anatolia, but to go no farther. Antonius still meant to grab the lion’s share of the glory; all he wanted Ventidius to do was to gain a toehold from which Antonius could operate.
Part of the army was in Brundisium, while the rest of us were in Apollonia. From somewhere Antonius provided a fleet of 500 ships, which sounds like a lot, but when you’re loading more than 60,000 men, 6,000 mules, along with more than 500 artillery pieces, it makes for extremely cramped conditions. Ventidius alleviated the problem somewhat by having the men row the ships instead of slaves, which the men did not care for one bit, but for which the Centurions were thankful, since it helped keep the men in shape and too tired at the end of their shift for any mischief. Despite assurances from Ventidius, we were all very concerned about Sextus showing up with his fleet of triremes in the Ionian Sea. However, the horizon remained clear of any sign of him for the whole voyage.
We arrived in Ephesus, where we were immediately dispersed into a number of camps, while another four Legions stationed in Africa joined us, bringing the strength up to 15 Legions. Calls went out to Galatia for drafts of cavalry, which we considered to be perhaps the most important arm of the entire army, given that we were going to be facing the dreaded horse archers of Parthia, the same force that cut down Crassus and the bulk of his men at Carrhae. We needed men who could drive the archers away when called on, in addition to men who could actually bring down these Parthians who fought in such a cowardly fashion. To that end, Ventidius also sent out calls for more slingers to augment the 500 who had sailed with us. Normally, a rock thrown from a sling would not be nearly potent enough to bring down a horse, but Ventidius also ordered the casting of thousands of lead missiles of a slightly larger size than normal. After testing it out on a mule that had gone lame, we felt much better about our chances of not only keeping the horse archers at bay, but actually being able to defeat them. Not everything was going our way, however; Antonius had sent Plancus, Fulvia’s favorite general, to govern Pergamum, which was located some distance to the north of the territory conquered by Labienus. An agent working for Labienus convinced Plancus that Ephesus had already fallen, even as we were landing and setting up camp, so in a panic, Plancus scurried away from Pergamum, heading to Chios while sending word to Antonius that all was lost, thereby giving Labienus Pergamum without a fight. It was now early spring in the year of the Consulships of Lucius Cornelius Balbus and Publius Canidius Crassus, as Ventidius called a meeting to announce that he planned on marching against Labienus at the beginning of May. Almost daily, more Galatians were riding in, so that before we marched our cavalry arm numbered ten thousand. In the last week of April, we were called to the Praetorium, where we were told by Ventidius, with his Legate Silo standing next to him, that we were going to be marching on the Kalends of May.
“We'll be marching by the most direct route to the Cilician Gates. That's the only place where Labienus can move into country where he can employ his horse archers. I'm going to cut him off.”
Ventidius pointed to a large map pinned to the wall, his finger tracing a line cutting through the middle of Asia Minor.
“I'll be going ahead with the cavalry force to take and hold the pass, then wait for the Legions to catch up.” He turned to look at us sternly. “I expect 30 miles a day. You have 500 miles to cover, and I want the Legions in place in 20 days from the day you march out of your respective camps. Is that understood?”
We all nodded, knowing that what he was asking was hard, but not impossible. We were dismissed to make our preparations. It never occurred to any of us that we would be facing anything other than the same force that had defeated Crassus, further proof that erroneous assumptions in war are worth ten Legions to the other side.
The first erroneous assumption we made was that Labienus and Pacorus were still together, which meant that we would have to defeat the combined forces of the Parthians. Only a few days into the march, we learned that Labienus and Pacorus were not together; Labienus was commanding a force of mostly infantry that he had trained in the Roman manner. According to the scouts, they marched as Romans, wore Roman-style equipment, and they were organized in Legions. As soon as Labienus’ own scouts spotted the forces of Ventidius, it did not take him long to realize what Ventidius was trying to do. Labienus immediately abandoned his baggage train, which Ventidius and his force came upon a day later, finding several thousand talents’ worth of gold and silver that Labienus had looted from every town and temple that he came across. Labienus also sent word back to Pacorus, who was on the other side of the Cilician Gates and Taurus Mountains, calling on him to come to the aid of Labienus with his own force. I suppose I must give credit to Labienus, because despite commanding a force composed of mostly infantry, he still managed to beat Ventidius to the Cilician Gates by a matter of two or three days, where he built a camp blocking the pass from the side that we were approaching. We arrived with Silo three days later, beating the Parthian relief column, which had to climb up from the coast at Tarsus, a much more difficult approach. Ventidius put us immediately to work. Space was at a premium, both in making camp and in deploying the Legions when it was time for battle, so in an effort to alleviate the problem Ventidius sent five of the Legions north to Mazaga, where they were ordered to be ready to march should they be needed. He picked a spot on a hill that actually was higher than Labienus’ camp and had a slightly flat top, putting us to work clearing it. There were tradeoffs with this position; while it gave us an advantage of plunging downhill in an attack, its position also gave Labienus an open route to escape back to Tarsus. We spent the next few days working on and improving the camp, which in hindsight was probably a mistake. We should have gone ahead and tried to crush Labienus while he was waiting for Pacorus, but Ventidius was completely confident in his slingers and their missiles and what they would do to the horse archers, especially given the terrain. So, when Balbus came pounding up to me, despite being the commander of the guard, which meant that he was deserting his post, I knew that it was important.
“A scout just rode in,” he gasped, hands on his knees. “The Parthians have been spotted.”
“And?” I asked, sensing that there was more to this than just the announcement of something we had been expecting.
“Not a horse archer among them.” He was getting his breath back, but now it was my turn to fight for breath, suddenly knowing what he was about to tell me.
“Cataphracts?” I hissed, to which he simply nodded his head.
I know I have said it many times before, yet it bears repeating. There are no secrets in the army, so it did not take long for this news to flash through the camp, seemingly in less time than it took for the sound of one bucina call to travel from one end to the other. To Ventidius’ credit, he wasted no time in trying to stop the news from being spread and infecting the army, choosing instead to meet it head-on by calling a meeting of all 600 Centurions. With such a large group, trying to maintain secrecy of any sort was pointless, so he did not even bother posting provosts around the edges of the forum while he talked to us.
“We were all caught by surprise,” he said without any attempt to soften the blow. “And I take full responsibility for this, but the jug is broken and can't be mended now. We need to do whatever we can to negate the advantage of the cataphracts. Obviously, our slingers are useless against their armor, and neither can we afford to try and meet them in our standard formation. But that doesn't mean that they're unbeatable,” he said fiercely, looking into our faces as if daring any man to contradict him.
