Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony, page 52
I was so fully occupied with running two Centuries at once that I had little time to spend with Gaius, only seeing him during the march when I would be passing from one Cohort to the next. I would make sure to spend a few moments with him, and I was happy to see that he was fully recovered and had not lost any toes. His close comrade Vulso was not so lucky; he had already been suffering from frostbite when he suffered the blow to the head and Gaius had rescued him, so the exposure he had endured coupled with his head injury was too much, and he died shortly after Gaius rescued him. Gaius now needed to find another close comrade, but while he had been the new man a few months before and nobody was eager to team up with him, the combination of the gaping holes in our ranks and Gaius’ proven bravery ensured that he was being wooed by men on a daily basis. His reaction was equal parts flattered and bemused, as he discussed with me the merits of each prospective candidate as we walked. I teased him gently about being so sought after, but told him that he needed to pick a man who would help keep him alive when things were tough, and I was not just talking about in battle. I had a strong suspicion that Antonius would be letting the men run rampant when we finally arrived at Leuke Kome, relaxing discipline in an attempt to erase the memories of what was ultimately a failed campaign. I believed that would help, but I also knew that Antonius would have to find a way to come up with a bonus of hard cash if he wanted to keep the army loyal and willing to march into Parthia with him again. For I had no doubt that Antonius held every intention of returning, because now he had two reasons for revenge.
Despite Phraates dangling promises that he would return the standards lost by Crassus, not only had he not done so, but he had gained another with the loss of the baggage train. I wondered if Cleopatra was on her way, and how long we would have to wait before she arrived with all the things that Antonius had demanded she provide. Marching in a southerly direction, we bypassed Damascus to the west, passing through the valley where Heliopolis is located, so I suppose it was natural that my thoughts turned to Miriam, knowing that she was relatively nearby. We had started to attract camp followers almost from the moment we crossed into Syria, the women only staying about long enough to learn that there was precious little hard cash to be had, except for those few men who had been profiteering and selling grain at exorbitant prices when it was scarce. And there were even less of these men still marching, as it seemed that a disproportionately large number of them had suffered a variety of accidents during our retreat, ranging from slipping off the icy trails to tripping over a tent rope at night. Normally this is not fatal, but for these men it seemed to cause broken necks with amazing regularity. I believe it says more than any other single example about the state of the army and the tenuous grip that Antonius and the officers had on the men that not one of these accidents was ever investigated. As gratifying as it may have been, it was also concerning to me, for I was sure that things were only going to get worse when we finally stopped marching.
Chapter 7- Respite
We arrived in Leuke Kome (modern-day Jiyeh, Lebanon) in early December, but early winter in that part of the world, that close to the sea, was as close to paradise that it was possible to get compared to what we had just been through. Antonius had spent the time waiting for us having a camp prepared, so for the first time in months, we did not come to the end of a march and immediately start working. There was a sense of unreality as we marched through the Porta Praetoria, seeing that this was no marching camp, but a proper winter camp with huts instead of tents, the men and officers still having a hard time comprehending that it was finally well and truly over. Our training and discipline had us move without thought as we marched into the forum, where Antonius was sitting astride Clemency, turned out in his gold and silver armor with the snarling lions, waiting for the remnants of what had been the largest army in Roman history.
The 10th reached its spot right of the line, where we waited as the rest of the Legions moved into their accustomed spots. From my vantage point, I had a clear view of Antonius. As I watched him stare down at us, I became aware that he seemed to be weaving slightly in the saddle, causing me to examine him more closely. Despite looking essentially unchanged since he departed our company, I could see, if I squinted, the telltale puffiness around his eyes, along with the sallow cast to his normally bronzed skin that indicated he had been drinking heavily. However, when he spoke, his voice was strong and his speech not slurred in any way.
“My soldiers,” he began, and I was reminded how Caesar always referred to us as his comrades, something Antonius never did. “I welcome you to Leuke Kome. This will be where you spend the winter, and…..” before he could finish a majority of the men broke out in a chorus of groans and boos, as I braced myself for an Antonian explosion, but once again he surprised me, giving the men a wide smile as he held up his hands for silence. The men quieted down, then he boomed, “You don’t think that I would let you spend a winter here alone, do you? I have sent for every whore in Damascus, Tyre, and Antioch to keep you company during your long watches of leisure. They should be arriving any day.”
I saw his mouth continue moving, but I do not know what he said since his words were drowned out by the deafening cheers of the men. He waited for silence and once the men calmed down, he finished what he was saying. “And you don’t think I'll let you entertain company dry, do you? I know some of you will need all the help you can get to woo even a whore, so the wine is already here.”
His jibe was greeted by a roar of laughter, followed by another raucous cheer. He let the men go on for a bit, then his face turned serious, and that was enough to quiet the army.
“Tonight, when you sit by your fires and begin your well-earned rest, I ask only one thing of you. Take a moment to remember those of us who are not here with us in the flesh, but will always be with us in memory.”
It is hard to describe how quickly the mood of an entire army of men changed with those words and I know that while it was not Antonius’ intent, he evoked a sense of guilt as men chastised themselves for being able to laugh and think about all the debauching that they were going to do. To his credit, Antonius saw the reaction that his words had provoked, so he hastened to soften the blow.
“While you're taking that moment to remember your friends, I also ask that you take a moment to forgive me, your general. For I have failed you, and there are no words I can muster that will adequately convey my deepest sorrow and regret for the mistakes that I have made during this campaign. While I acted with the best of motives, having the earnest desire to avenge the defeat of Marcus Crassus and the loss of seven Legion standards, and more importantly to free those poor wretches who have been in bondage to the Parthian scum for these last 20 years, what matters is that we were turned back. But I swear this to each of you, that this was not a defeat but a setback, and that we will have our vengeance upon the Parthians, not just for Crassus now, but for all of the men we left behind!”
He was roaring at the top of his lungs by the time he finished, with the men roaring right back with their approval. The noise continued for several moments as each Legionary added his own promises to the one made by Antonius, for there was not a man left who had not lost a friend. Antonius dismissed the army, calling for the Centurions to meet with him in the Praetorium as soon as we dropped our gear and made sure the men were seen to. The dismissal was the official signal to the army that it was over, that they had survived. Men immediately began weeping and hugging each other as they made their way to their new quarters. I spied Gaius among a group of Second men, and I called him over.
I did not embrace him, instead offering him my hand, telling him, “You've not only survived your first campaign, Gregarius, you've exceeded even my expectations. Congratulations.” I could not resist giving him a wink, and he beamed back at me.
“Thank you, Primus Pilus. I’m just happy to have survived.”
“So am I.” I grinned at him. “Your mother would have flayed me alive if you hadn’t.”
For once, the atmosphere in the Praetorium was relaxed and almost convivial, as the Primi Pili congratulated each other for still being among the living, and for leading their respective Legions through what we all agreed had been the most physically difficult campaign any of us had ever been through.
“Of course, none of us are getting any younger,” Corbulo pointed out. “That had to have had something to do with it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Balbinus retorted. “I'm like a good Falernian. I get better with age.”
Antonius entered and we all came to intente, which he waved off, telling us to take our seats. Ahenobarbus, Canidius, and Titius sat in the front row, along with the senior Tribunes, the rest of us sitting in the subsequent rows. Antonius sat down behind his desk and now that I was closer, there was no missing the fact that he had been drinking. Before he spoke, he shuffled through the wax tablets that each Primus Pilus had brought containing their strength reports. As he read each one, the furrows on his brow deepened, and I braced myself for the coming storm, but Antonius did not seem to have much bluster left.
He just looked at us, asking in disbelief, “Eight thousand? We lost another 8,000 men from Artaxata? How is that possible?”
That very question had been the subject of much discussion among all the Primi Pili and their Centurions, and it seemed as if each of us had our own idea.
He looked first at Ahenobarbus, and, while I could not see his face, I could see him shift uncomfortably as he stammered, “The conditions were too much for the sick and wounded, Marcus Antonius. They succumbed to the conditions.”
“But we didn’t have 8,000 in the litters,” Antonius protested. “There were no more than 5,000 when I left the army.”
Ahenobarbus could only shrug, as Antonius looked over to where we were sitting, his expression clearly beseeching one of us for an answer. None of us spoke for several moments. Finally, Caecina broke the silence.
“There were no more than 5,000 men in the litters at any one time,” he agreed with Antonius. “But men were getting frostbitten or coming down with pneumonia as quickly as men were dying from their wounds or whatever illness they had. The litter wouldn’t even get cold when they dumped a dead man before another man was put in.”
I believed that this was exactly what had happened as well, yet hearing it spoken aloud did not make it any less distressing. Antonius listened, then sat back, giving a soft curse in disgust and resignation, which we took as a sign that he accepted Caecina’s explanation. However, this was not the end of the bad news, which Antonius discovered when he opened the next tablet. Reading it, he let out a gasp.
“We’re losing another 3,000 men because of frostbite?”
“Those are just the men who have lost either their entire foot or their big toes. Or more than two toes on each foot,” Ahenobarbus said. “Or men who have lost their thumbs, or more than two fingers of their right hand. Men who have lost their noses or ears are allowed to stay under their standard.”
It may sound peculiar that a man losing a big toe would no longer be fit for the army, but apparently, the big toe is a requirement for a person to be able to walk normally, and I can certainly attest that any man I saw missing a big toe could not walk without a severe limp. Antonius sat looking dumbly down at the tablet, as if by a sheer force of will he could alter the numbers staring back up at him. Of course, he could not and neither could we. We were all struggling with the scope of the loss, as overall the Legions had lost four of every ten men, either dead or, like the men with severe frostbite, no longer fit to march. Some Legions were a little better, some a little worse. While the 10th had fared a bit better in terms of illness or frostbite, we had been in three engagements, including the one when the Tenth Cohort was wiped out, so we more than made up for it with battle dead. Antonius put his head in his hands as he struggled to cope with the realization that he had lost almost half his army, yet had nothing to show for it.
“Antonius, what do you intend to do about paying the men some sort of bounty?”
I silently thanked the gods that it was Ahenobarbus who asked the question that I knew was on everyone’s minds, as all the wine and whores in the world would do no good if men did not have the money to pay for them. Most of the men had lost a significant portion, if not all of their savings with the loss of the baggage train.
Antonius looked up slowly, his eyes unfocused as he replied dully, “I plan on getting the money from Cleopatra to pay the men a bonus of 400 sesterces.”
Corbulo, Caecina, and I exchanged glances at the mention of the sum, and I knew we were thinking the same thing, that this might not be enough to appease the men. Four hundred sesterces was a little less than a half year’s pay, but while the men should also be receiving their back pay, most of the men of the veteran Legions had lost much more than that from their savings accounts.
“Maybe the wine and whores will keep the men in line,” Caecina whispered.
I hoped he was right, but only time would tell. A few other matters were discussed, including Antonius’ decision that for at least the first month we were in winter camp there would be no drilling or training of any kind.
“I want the men to stay drunk for this first month. I want them to swim in the ocean, to eat their fill, and to forget about all the horrors that they’ve seen.”
I was torn on hearing this; while I appreciated what Antonius was trying to do, giving the men the license to run rampant for a month would make it extremely difficult to get them back under control when the time came. We were dismissed to go back to our men, and as we left the Praetorium, I voiced my concerns to the others, but they did not seem to be particularly concerned.
“So we have to stripe a few backs.” Balbinus shrugged it off. “It’s worth the risk, in my opinion.”
Corbulo and Caecina clearly agreed, nodding their heads at Balbinus’ words, so I decided to drop the matter and worry about it when and if it came.
The whores started arriving the next day, as Antonius had promised, while the wine flowed freely. The only work that the men did was the cooking of their meals, their laundry, and other small tasks that could not be avoided. The rest of their time was spent in debauching and revelry; I do not believe that the majority of them spent a full watch sober. Gaius tried to resist his comrades’ insistent attempts to get him as drunk as they were, but it is a hard business treading the straight and narrow when all one’s friends are trying to make sure you crawl in the gutter. By the end of the first week, I spied him arm in arm with some of his tentmates, weaving down the street on their way to the series of huts that Antonius had set aside for the use of the whores, who were still streaming in from all points of Syria. The men alternated their time between trips to the whores, basking on the beach soaking in the warmth of the sun, playing seemingly never-ending dice games, drinking bouts, and sleeping. For the first several days, things were peaceful between the men, even when they were from different Legions, as I believe everyone was just so relieved that they had survived their ordeal that the usual animus that inhabited some men that made them so eager to fight their peers was dormant. That could not last forever, and by the second week, fights were beginning to break out between the men, though they were still relatively few when compared to a normal winter camp.
As time passed, the other Primi Pili and I began to form the opinion that the hardship and misery that the men had shared had formed among them a bond that we did not see normally, even after some of our toughest campaigns. We came to the conclusion that the brutally hard conditions of the march were so horrific that the normal rivalries and arguments rife in a winter camp were viewed as petty and unworthy by the men. The Centurions enjoyed themselves just as much as the men, all of us secretly relieved that the burden of disciplining the men was temporarily lifted, and we were as openly jubilant that there was no training schedule to maintain as the rankers were. We maintained only a skeleton group of Centurions on duty, one from each Cohort, with the only requirement I imposed being that the men had to be sober while on guard duty. Like the rest of the men, I had an itch that only a woman could scratch, but I found the experience supremely unsatisfying, so two weeks after we arrived at Leuke Kome, I sent Diocles on an errand to Damascus. I began to count the days when I expected to see my servant and friend return to camp with the woman who had been haunting my dreams with him. Our general was clearly experiencing the same sense of anticipation, but the major difference between us was that I did not stay drunk and carry on like a lovesick fool.
Antonius had taken to waiting for Cleopatra down on the dock, even having a couch brought down so that he could lounge on it while he swilled wine, looking seaward. When darkness or the weather forced him to his quarters, he greeted every visitor with the same question.
“Is she here yet?”
For a short period of time after the army arrived, he made at least an attempt to give the appearance worthy of the general commanding the army, yet with every day that passed without any sign of Cleopatra, or any word of her whereabouts, he put less and less effort into maintaining that appearance. Finally, he gave up altogether, stopping bathing and shaving, while I do not believe that he spent one sober moment in those weeks waiting for the queen of Egypt. Even those of us who did not care for Antonius had no desire to witness the spectacle of one of the most powerful men in Rome reduced to such a state, but even after Ahenobarbus went to talk to him about the display he was putting on, he was oblivious.
