Marching With Caesar-Final Campaign, page 52
"Pax, boy," I told him. "I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted..."
That was as far as I got.
"I'm no boy! I'm a man, just like you!" he said fiercely, and I saw the older man blanch, but he kept his eyes on me.
Taking a breath, instead of answering, I urged Ocelus forward to draw near the boy, so I could look down on him, thinking that between my size and being mounted that would be enough. While he suddenly did not look so sure of himself, I was secretly impressed that he stood his ground.
"What's your name?" I do not believe he was prepared for that simple question, and he looked over to the older man.
I saw him give a slight nod, and the boy answered, "V-Vibius Pacuvius."
"Well, Vibius Pacuvius, I salute your courage," I said genially. "And yes, you are a man. I ask your forgiveness for my rudeness."
If a pair of horns suddenly sprouted out of my forehead, I do not think he could have looked more shocked, and his companion was no less so surprised.
Finally, he managed to stammer, "Y-You are forgiven. Sir."
"Thank you. And thank you for your information."
Pulling a handful of coins out, I was about to hand them to the boy, but one in particular caught my eye. It was one of the remaining coins that we had received almost ten years before, shortly after we arrived at Actium with Marcus Antonius. I felt a grimly amused smile tugging at my lips as I leaned down, beckoning the boy to come near enough.
When he held out his hand, I told him, "See this coin here?"
I dropped it into his palm and he looked at it, although his gaze kept shifting to the others I was still holding.
"See that mark there? That's for my Legion."
A change came over the boy, his expression becoming interested.
"You were with the 10th Legion? Caesar's 10th?" he asked me.
"You mean the 10th Equestris? Yes, you could say that," I replied dryly.
"Let me see that," the other man demanded, then grunted as he examined it.
Looking over at him, I saw that he wore a similar expression to the boy’s, and they were so alike that I was sure that they were father and son.
"So you must have known their Primus Pilus," the older man said, looking at me shrewdly.
Behind me, I heard Diocles make a choking sound, and I knew he was trying not to laugh.
"Titus Pullus?" I nodded. "Yes, you could say that as well."
"Is he as fierce as they say?" the boy asked. "I heard that he's almost seven feet tall and that he could lift a fully born cow off the ground!"
"I don't know about that," I said doubtfully, rubbing my chin as I enjoyed myself more than I had in some time. "He is pretty strong, but a cow?" I shook my head. "A fully grown sow? Definitely."
It was becoming increasingly hard to keep a straight face, and Diocles was not helping a bit. That probably was what prompted the man on the cart to narrow his eyes in suspicion as he looked from me to Diocles.
"He's just having fun with us, Vibius," the man finally spoke. "I don't think he was in the 10th himself. And he might have seen Titus Pullus, but I don't think he knows him."
"Well, it was worth a try." I shrugged, then dropped the rest of the coins into the boy's hands. "Again, thank you for the information. Not all Legionaries are bad. See?"
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," the boy stammered, looking at this sudden fortune, and I saw his father's eyes narrow at the pile of coins shimmering in the boy's hand.
"Pacuvius," I called out to him. "I would appreciate you letting Vibius here keep some of that for himself."
I could tell he did not like it, but he agreed.
"And one other thing, Vibius. Being so disrespectful to someone like Titus Pullus would get you killed. You're lucky you didn't run into him."
The boy swallowed hard, then Diocles and I left them there to continue on our way. It was some time before the silence between us was broken, and it was not any spoken words, but laughter. After a few moments, both of us had tears streaming from our eyes and, for a brief moment, my problems were forgotten.
"Of all the things, the one we didn't need was an opportunity for your head to get any bigger," was Diocles' final word on the subject.
We reached Tibur. It was a day short of two weeks after we had departed Siscia, and while we could have pressed on for the twenty more miles to Rome, we stopped there.
"This must be where the patricians and highly-ranked plebeians come to get away from Rome," Diocles mused.
I knew we were gawking like two country boys with the manure still fresh on our boots, but it is quite a sight. Large estates, with villas even larger than the one in which Miriam and I had stayed during our time in Damascus, each one seemed to be surrounded by stunning well-maintained parks, complete with fountains and statues. It seemed as if the last two or three miles we rode, we would no sooner pass one such estate, which we were sure was the finest example we had seen, only to be forced to revise our opinions when some new extravagant building appeared. One thing I had noticed; much like the other times, the closer we drew to Rome the more crowded the roads became. The difference in the traffic was its composition; there were too many litters to count, and these conveyances were an impressive enough sight on their own. Most of them were borne by eight men, two on each side front and back, but we saw more than one that needed twelve men, and in fact looked like small houses moving along. There were numerous carriages, almost every one of them covered, with cloth screens so the upper classes would not be subjected to the unpleasant sights of normal people doing their daily jobs, or slaves being whipped in a field. Not surprisingly, the price of accommodation was correspondingly higher, but the quality of the lodgings reflected that. Neither Diocles nor I were in much mood to talk, but in a crowded dining area of an inn, it is impossible to avoid. Not helping was that the talk was of little else than the upcoming trial of Marcus Primus. Just listening to the conversations, it appeared that the consensus was that Primus was in real trouble, but what appeared to interest people more was why he found himself in the predicament that he did.
"I heard that he got caught diddling Livia Drusilla," was one of the more memorable ideas we heard.
But it was something a richly attired man with a look of the kind of prosperity that comes from being well placed and in favor with powerful men that stuck with me.
"I suspect that Primus overheard something that he either wasn't supposed to hear or was told not to divulge."
At that point, this seemed to me the most likely; my belief was that Primus had somehow learned about the gold at Serdica and ignored Octavian's demand that it remain secret. After we finished our meal and retired to our room, Diocles and I discussed what we had heard. I had paid for a room reserved for those who wanted privacy and could afford to pay for it, so it was just Diocles and me, sitting on our beds. As usual, my mind took the more pessimistic turn, naturally assuming that Primus’ and my fates were intertwined. Diocles did not see it that way.
"I'm actually hopeful," was how he put it. "Because how many times did you hear your name mentioned?"
"Not many," I was forced to admit, and it was true.
The times my name came up, it had been merely a piece of information, as one man told another that I had been the second in command. Nothing was said about my role, or that I was even implicated.
"If Augustus is planning on doing something to you, I'm almost positive that he would have let that be known, as an example."
While this made sense, I felt compelled to point out, "Or, he's afraid of the reaction of the other Camp Prefects and Legions and wants to keep it a secret."
Diocles' lips tightened in an expression I knew from experience meant that I was trying his patience with my pessimism.
"I don't think so," he insisted.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," I replied. "And I suppose I'll get an idea tomorrow."
With that, we retired for the evening. I do not know how well Diocles slept, but I know I did not.
When we arrived at Rome for what would turn out to be the last time I ever saw the city, we entered by the Porta Tiburtina, and I was impressed by the new aqueduct that added to the two already standing.
"I think Agrippa built that." I pointed it out to Diocles as we approached the gate, pulling up behind a heavily loaded wagon, and my eye was caught by something else. "What's going on now?" I wondered, as it seemed to take an inordinately long time for the wagon to be waved through.
Another thing that seemed odd was the number of men arrayed around the gate, and when the wagon was finally waved through and it was our turn, I had the chance to examine them more closely. Do not mistake me; there have always been guards at the gates, but it had always been more haphazard in not just their appearance but their performance. These men were wearing leather cuirasses and Legionary helmets, but that was where the resemblance ended, at least if eyed by a professional. They also carried the Spanish sword, but I instantly saw that their handles showed very little wear. Frankly, while they presented a uniform and professional appearance, once one got up close, they were a motley collection of youngsters and old men.
"State your business, citizen." The man speaking had not bothered to look up from tallying something in a wax tablet, something else that was new from my last visit, although I immediately and easily understood this was something that Octavian had instituted.
When I did not immediately answer, he snapped, "We don't have all day! Are you blind? Can't you see a line behind you?"
He did not look up from his writing until the last words were out of his throat, and he was greeted by the sight of me staring down coldly at him. This day I had chosen to enter the city in full uniform, with all my decorations that Diocles had polished to dazzling perfection, and I can imagine what kind of thoughts ran through the man's mind as I hastened up the numen with the turd that I had inherited from Gaius Crastinus more than thirty years before.
"So I'm a citizen, eh? And you're asking if I'm blind?" I was more irritated than angry, but old habits die hard.
"Oh, no, sir, I didn't mean to imply...I mean, I'm sorry," he stammered.
"Yes, yes you are. A sorry excuse for a Legionary," I told him, but his reaction was one of confusion.
"Sir? Oh, we aren't in the Legions," he explained, but that only deepened my confusion.
Surely Octavian had not replaced the guards that had been standing at Rome's gates for the gods only knew how long with auxiliaries! I thought. They are not even citizens!
Seeing that both Diocles and I shared the same look of confusion, the man went on, "We're members of the Urban Cohorts. We have the responsibility for maintaining order in the precincts of the city."
"Since when?" I asked, more out of idle curiosity than any real desire to know.
"Oh, we're new," he admitted. "We've been in service just this year."
"So you're not Legionaries, but you're organized into Cohorts?"
Diocles' question startled me, more because I had not thought to ask an obvious question. The man nodded, apparently forgetting that just moments before he had been very impatient because of our laggardly behavior.
"Yes, er, sir." His eyes darted from me to Diocles, clearly unsure what his status might be, and I suppressed a grin, knowing that no matter how much he might protest, my little Greek was happier than he had ever been in his life. "We have six Centuries in each Cohort, just like the Legions, but right now there are only three Cohorts, although we've heard talk that there will be at least one more. We hold lustration just like the Legions, and we...."
"That's all very interesting," I cut in. "But if I remember, this conversation started because we were moving slowly."
The man's face reddened, but he had the presence of mind to ask for some sort of documentation. In answer, I merely produced the scroll and held it out to him so that he could clearly see the seal. Even broken, he obviously recognized the sphinx, and he stiffened to attention, although I am not sure why.
"Yes, sir. Very good. Your papers are in order."
Stepping to the side, he nodded to the two men charged with standing in the open gateway, and they stepped aside as well. We rode through, into the city, and although I remembered at least to pull to the side, I had to come to a stop to take it in. As usual, the streets were bustling, packed with people of all sizes, shapes, colors and occupations, but all of them clearly very busy. I had to remind myself that it had been some time since I had been in a city of any real size; Siscia was a town, and Rome is the largest on this side of Our Sea, if not in the whole world. Along with the sights were the unforgettable smells, which, as it had happened the first time I visited, threatened to overwhelm me. It is not a lie to say that there is a stench that comes with any sized town and city, but in a city the size of Rome, it is of such intensity that it is hard to describe. The only thing keeping me in the saddle was that there were so many other competitive smells: leather, smoke from so many fires, and animals. But it was the range of pleasant odors, of exotic spices, burning incense, and the smell of baking bread as the bakers were just finishing their last batches of the day that balanced the unpleasant smells. Hanging above it all was the noise; the pounding sound of men hammering on some project, the mix of languages, most of which I had heard and some I had not, just a riot of sensations that, after days of riding through the placid countryside threatened to make me dizzy.
"Still quite a show." Diocles grinned at me, but I could not return it.
We were in Rome, and I was about to learn the specifics of how much trouble I was in. Without saying another word, I headed in the direction of the Palatine Hill, from where the man now known as Augustus ran Rome.
Sending Diocles on to the Campus Martius, where there are quarters always waiting for men of my rank when they come to Rome, I rode Ocelus up the short but steep road from the Forum up to the slopes of the Palatine. It always amazed me at the dramatic change once one left the Forum on the Palatine side. Oh, the street was still crowded, but it seemed that things were just a bit...cleaner. Even the slaves going about their masters' business were tidier and, if anything, even with the slope of the hill, the pace was quicker. I supposed that made sense, thinking about it as Ocelus pushed his way through the crowd, sometimes drawing curses that were quickly stifled when they looked over their shoulders to see me astride him. This was where the richest and most powerful of our entire world lived, so it followed that anyone, slave or otherwise, doing their bidding would be moving as quickly as they could. Unlike my practice before every battle, where I would run through all the things that I needed to be aware of and checked and re-checked my weapons and armor, all in an attempt to keep my mind occupied, I was finding it extremely hard to focus on what the next watch held. Stopping for a moment, I sat Ocelus as my mind danced around the edges of what I was about to face, wondering instead if I would be allowed to ride Ocelus to the Campus Martius. Although a part of my mind was sufficiently in control of my emotions to chide the other part of me that threatened to take over, I recognized, for the second time in my life, that I was on the verge of mindless panic. Since then, I have wondered what the passersby thought when I suddenly slapped myself across the face, viciously and with enough force that it brought water to my eyes. Get hold of yourself, now, a hard, cold voice suddenly asserted itself, and as harsh and unyielding as it was, I welcomed that voice as an old friend. I recognized it as the less severe form of that battle madness that sometimes descended on me in times of great peril, and I felt the coiling tension in my stomach ease as the old Titus Pullus took command. I had been heading for the side entrance, the one that I had been ordered to use the last time I came to face Octavian, but on an impulse, I brought Ocelus to a halt. I was not going to skulk about as if I had done something wrong, I decided then and there, opting as I almost always did, for a full, frontal assault. Whatever reluctance I had felt suddenly seemed to evaporate, and I gave Ocelus a kick in the ribs so that he began moving at a trot, scattering people out of his way as we approached the main entrance to what was already known as the House of Augustus. I had heard that he was in the process of buying the house of the orator Hortensius, which was adjacent to this villa, but I did not know the details about whether he was going to tear Hortensius' villa down to expand his, or combine the two. As it was, I had already heard that one wing was devoted to the running and management of the army. Reaching the main entrance, I saw two men standing guard, but unlike those Urban Cohorts, these men were attired with full armor, but instead of the Legion red cloak, wore one of blue, matching the plumes in their helmets. Despite myself, I felt my lip curl in contempt, a sudden rush of memory flooding my mind. Octavian had renamed them, and I knew he had purged the ranks of men he suspected of being more loyal to Antonius than to Rome, but in my heart, to me, these new Praetorian Guards would always be the Brundisium Cohorts, from which they sprang. Nevertheless, as hard as I tried, I could not find fault with the salutes they rendered when I dismounted and, from a shaded portico, a man wearing the white stripe of the Optio marched smartly to face me. After exchanging salutes, I identified myself, holding up the scroll, and just as had happened at the gate, I could see that it was instantly recognized.
This time, however, the Optio, after swallowing hard, said, "Sir, if you wouldn't mind, you need to wait here while I go find out exactly where you're to be sent."
It is odd, I know, but I was comforted by how uncomfortable he looked at the thought of a Camp Prefect standing outside a residence, waiting for admittance. Knowing there was nothing I could do and it would do no good to make the Optio feel badly, I assured him that I was fine where I was. Before he left, I did ask him about Ocelus.
