Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony, page 7
“Yes, but . . .”
“There is no ‘but,’ Primus Pilus,” he snapped, and I could feel the dangerous rush of heat rising to my face as I thought, careful, Titus, you’re in dangerous waters here.
“You just admitted that your men killed three men of the 4th Legion, without provocation,” and as soon as he said it, he knew he had made an error.
I was not about to let that opportunity pass without pouncing on it.
“That's where an error has been made, Triumvir, in the last part of your statement. In fact, men of the 10th did execute,” I emphasized the word as I looked at Corbulo, pleased to see that it was his turn to flush red, “not murder three men of the 4th, who were identified by witnesses as having been the ones who committed murder, when they stabbed two of my men to death.”
“So you say,” Corbulo snorted.
I wheeled on him, glad now that I was standing and he sitting, as it gave me command of the high ground, so to speak.
“I hope that you're not insinuating that I'm lying, Primus Pilus Corbulo,” I said quietly, but I was glad to see that he did not mistake the menace in my tone, the color that had been in his face suddenly fleeing.
“I…I meant no such thing, Primus Pilus Pullus,” he stuttered. “I spoke in haste, forgive me. It just seems that there are two different stories.”
“There usually are in matters like this,” I responded coolly. “And I have the ashes of two of my men, whose bodies were found in a pig sty, I might add, and we both know that’s a favored method of disposing of bodies by men who are trying to hide the evidence. I also have their deaths entered in the Legion diary.”
“That doesn’t mean that it was my men who were responsible,” Corbulo protested, but I was pleased to see that I had him on the defensive.
Before I could continue the pressure, Lepidus, seeing the same thing, reasserted himself.
“Enough,” he snapped. “Primus Pilus Pullus, I suppose that you can produce this so-called witness to corroborate your version of events?”
The sight of those damned teeth shining at me as he made no attempt to hide his triumphant grin told me why we had not found the witness.
Oh, he had done me neatly, and we both knew it. I could see the malevolence in his smile as he waited for the answer that he knew was coming, his expression saying to me, “Did you think I forgot how you humiliated me?”
I did not speak. My mind raced as I tried to determine how badly this would go. I had no doubt that part of the motivation, at least on Lepidus’ part, was some sort of twisted determination to see the floggings that he had been cheated out of. What I could not easily discern was how determined he was to punish me along with the others.
Finally, I replied, “We've been unable to locate the witness. But you already knew that, didn't you, Triumvir?”
The smile faltered, and I saw his face redden, but my gibe was not for him; it was for Corbulo because I wanted to see how deeply he was involved in Lepidus’ plan. I was rewarded by a look of confusion on Corbulo’s face as he looked from Lepidus to me then back again, trying to determine what undercurrent was threatening to sweep him away.
“I don't know what you're talking about I assure you, Primus Pilus, and if I were you I would be careful making accusations.” Lepidus glowered at me, and as much as I despised him, I had to recognize that his status as Triumvir, even as the weakest of the three, made him a dangerous man.
“Forgive me, Triumvir,” I said through clenched teeth. “I was asking a question and didn't mean for it to be construed as an accusation.”
Nothing was said for several heartbeats, then Lepidus waved a hand, which I took to be his version of a magnanimous gesture.
“So I must deliberate on this matter carefully,” he said, though again he could not completely contain his smirk. “You'll return to your quarters and wait to hear from me.”
It took every bit of discipline in my body to keep my face impassive and my manner impeccable as I saluted, then executed the proper about-face, marching out of his office. Before I reached the door, Lepidus called out to me.
“Oh, and, Primus Pilus, do I have your word as a Centurion of Rome that you will not suddenly decide to take leave?”
I turned slowly and with as much defiance as I thought I could get away with, I replied, “Triumvir, I have never, ever run from a fight yet.”
“Just see that you don’t this time,” he sneered. Then, I turned my back on him, thinking, You’re going to wish I had, you little prick, though I had no idea how I was going to best him this time.
Corbulo was standing outside the Praetorium, and we approached each other awkwardly, neither of us seeming to know what to say.
Finally, he jerked his head in the direction of the Praetorium, asking, “What was all that about?”
“Payment of an old debt,” I said shortly, not really wanting to have this conversation at this moment, but then I stopped.
I needed friends and allies as I never had before. If it was too much to expect Corbulo to be counted as either, given the circumstances, neither could I afford to make more enemies. I briefly explained the beginnings of what I now recognized was a feud between Lepidus and myself; even if I had never thought about it that way before, Lepidus obviously had. After I explained, Corbulo nodded thoughtfully.
“I had heard that about him,” he said. “He really has it in for you, then?”
“I suppose he does, though I never thought about it before,” I replied honestly.
“Oh, I know those types.” Corbulo spat on the ground. “They’re as touchy as a Vestal about the flanks when it comes to their exalted status, and if someone that they think of as inferior to them gets the better of them, they won’t rest until they even the score. And you,” he suddenly grinned at me, catching me by surprise, “are about as inferior to him as one can get.” He chuckled. “Yes, I can see how you were a rock in his boot, all right.”
I was not sure that I liked how he seemed to be taking pleasure in my predicament, but I could see that he held me no malice, nor I to him. We were two men who got caught up in the actions of our respective subordinates, so now we had a mess to clean up, though it looked very much as if I was actually part of the mess now.
“You know.” I do not know what prompted me to say this, but it was suddenly important to me that Corbulo hear the truth. “We did have a witness who saw everything.”
He nodded again, then looked away as he spoke. “I thought as much, just from the way Lepidus reacted. He looked too pleased with himself for there not to be a witness. How do you suppose he knew about him?” he asked suddenly.
I had been turning that very question over in my mind as we had been talking. There was only one conclusion I could draw.
“He obviously has spies in the ranks,” I replied. “It makes sense, I suppose. After all, Octavian certainly has men working for him. You should know about that.” I could not help myself, and I felt a momentary satisfaction as his face turned red.
He opened his mouth, clearly about to make a sharp retort, then snapped it shut.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he said grudgingly.
I found myself liking and respecting Corbulo more with every passing moment.
Turning back to the more pressing matter, he asked me, “So what happened exactly? Just between you and me, one Primus Pilus to another, off the record. You be totally honest with me, and I'll do the same with you.”
I could not refuse such an offer, even if I had been so inclined, so I told him what I knew at that point. When I had finished, he heaved a great sigh, shaking his head in disgust.
“Figures. That bastard,” he gave the name of the man who murdered my boy, though I forget it now, “was tied to that woman’s apron strings, and she was bad business. Her first two men died, one in battle, but the other under almost identical circumstances. I don’t know what she has between her legs, but I’m going to have to do something about her.” He turned to look me in the eye. “And if you ever repeat what I'm about to say, I'll deny it and I'll never speak to you again, understand?”
I nodded, then he continued, “The fact is that as much of a pain in the ass as that woman is, her man was worse, and I’m plain glad to be rid of him because I know that sooner or later I'd have had to do something permanent about him.”
He did not elaborate. He did not need to; the Legionary in question would have had a training accident. Executions may be necessary at times, but they are bad for morale, and while every Primus Pilus had men who they wanted to be rid of in a permanent way, doing so in an official manner is always the last resort.
He went on. “The other two were bad ones too, but they were followers. He was the leader, and if he had been removed, I think those two would have been all right, given the proper motivation.”
He smiled grimly at this inside joke, and I returned the smile.
Shaking his head, he finished. “But what your men did was wrong, even though I understand it.” He gave a snorting laugh. “Who knows, a few years ago I may have done the same thing as your Princeps Posterior. Still, I’m afraid that Lepidus is going to have his way on this one.”
We stood there then, as a misting rain began, the leaden skies matching my mood. I wish I could say that my main concern at this point was the fate of Tetarfenus, but I had recognized that for all intents and purposes his career was over, with the only real question being if he would be executed. I also regret to say that I did not have a thought for Nasica either, as I was seeing all my hard work, all that I had achieved about to blow away like a puff of smoke at the whim of a man like Lepidus. I suppose that it was this thought, threatening to overwhelm everything else crowding in my brain that prompted me to turn suddenly to Corbulo.
“What should I do?”
If he was surprised, he did not show it. His answer was instant.
“You need to see Octavian. The only one who can get you out of the mess you’re in with Lepidus is another Triumvir.”
I sat in my quarters the rest of that day and night, only seeing Diocles, not even seeing Scribonius when he came to call. I needed time to think and to decide my next move. I recognized that Corbulo was right, that my only hope of escaping Lepidus’ revenge was to go to Octavian and hope that my status as his adopted father’s man would be enough to convince him to intercede on my behalf. I think that in those thirds of a watch I was harboring the belief, delusion is probably more accurate, that I would be able to reach an accommodation with Octavian without selling my soul. I remembered the bright-eyed youth who seemed to hang on my every word, and seemed a little in awe of my reputation. I say this now with the brutal clarity of someone who is about as wrong as it is possible to be, while still being alive to tell about it. One decision I came to was to wait until I heard exactly what Lepidus had in mind, which was a huge risk. However, as I thought about it, I realized that I was not in a completely weak position, despite appearances. Of all the segments of Roman society at this point, the one with the most power was the army, so my status as Primus Pilus of the 10th gave me quite a bit of influence, not just with my Legion, but throughout the army. While I would have liked to think it had everything to do with all that I had accomplished, I was realistic enough to recognize that it had more to do with the idea that a threat to one Centurion, even from a Triumvir, was a sign that none of us were safe. There was an atmosphere of suspicion and paranoia with the proscriptions, which had not been generating the amount of income the Triumvirs thought, for a variety of reasons. Now they were dipping deeper into the rolls of citizens, so it did not take long for the fear to develop among the first grade Centurions that we would be next. It was no secret that those of us who had marched with Caesar were now wealthy men, though I believe that if how much some of us actually had was known, we would have been prime targets for the list. However, that was a dangerous game for even Triumvirs to play, the Legions demonstrating this on more than one occasion, when we switched allegiance to one or the other. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that Lepidus’ actions against me were less about me stopping him from getting his enjoyment from striping men bloody than how we had emasculated him by defecting to Antonius. He had thought himself to be as important a player as Antonius and probably more important than Octavian. But in one stroke, he lost his position, thanks to the actions of the Legions, the 10th in particular, so I suppose it made sense that I was the focus of his rage. It did not particularly help matters, though I suppose it was better to comprehend the true nature of the problem.
Finally, at dawn on the second day, I heard the tramping of boots, for some reason knowing that they were headed for my door. I had already dressed myself, wearing my full uniform with decorations, Diocles taking extra care with the phalarae so that they gleamed like silver fire. The pounding on the door started my heart hammering, and I could not remember ever being as scared as I was at that moment. Before, in every battle I had ever fought, the situation was clear-cut; either I would live, or I would die. If I died, I could at least control the manner of my death in some way: dying on my feet, facing the enemy. Now, I was facing the destruction of something more important to me than my life, my reputation, my own fragile dignitas, such as it was. Caesar had rubbed off on me even more than I thought, I realized, as Diocles opened the door to a hard-faced provost, the man’s face betraying no emotion.
“Primus Pilus Pullus, you are summoned to meet with the Triumvir Marcus Aemilius Lepidus immediately. We,” he indicated the squad of men behind him, “are to escort you to the Praetorium.”
He did have the grace to look a bit embarrassed at the heavy-handedness of Lepidus in providing what was in effect an armed guard, as if I were a ranker caught trying to desert. I was about to make an angry remark to the provost, but I appreciated he was just doing his job, so I gave a curt nod, indicating I was ready to go.
I turned to take my helmet from Diocles, whispering to him, “You know what to do.”
“They'll be there,” he assured me in the same soft voice.
If the provost heard, he gave no indication as I left my quarters, wondering if I would be sleeping in my bed that night.
Lepidus was sitting at his desk in much the same posture as when I had seen him last. Marching up to stand the prescribed distance away, I came to intente, then saluted, which he did not bother to return. The only other men present were slaves acting as scribes, along with four Romans of obviously noble birth who were always hanging around Lepidus, laughing at his jokes and fawning all over him. I was disappointed but not surprised to see that the Tribune who had been my secret ally was absent; I suspect that Lepidus finally learned of the man’s true feelings for him and dismissed him.
“Primus Pilus Pullus, after deliberating on this manner carefully, I have reached the conclusion that your leadership of the 10th Legion is so inept and weak that a situation was allowed to develop that you should have stopped before any of this happened. You're hereby relieved of your command, you'll be reduced to the ranks, and you'll be flogged.” He had been looking down at what I was sure was another blank scroll, but he now looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with triumph and hatred. He added, “With the scourge, to the count of 30 lashes.”
He turned to the provosts, who had been standing in the corner while waving at me.
“Take him to the holding cell.”
You might think, gentle reader, that I would be reeling with shock, or at the very least be so riveted by what he was saying that I would have given him some sort of reaction. The truth is that I was only half-listening to what he was saying, because most of my attention was focused on listening for another sound, and I was rewarded by the first rumbling of what I was waiting for. Hearing it, I turned to Lepidus and I smiled at him.
For several heartbeats, he sat there, clearly unable to comprehend my seeming lack of fear. What men like Lepidus never realize about men like me is that fear is a constant companion that we have learned to accept and, in fact, make our servant. I doubt that Lepidus had ever actually faced a man in combat, no matter how much he liked to strut about in his uniform, wearing medals that he had never earned. Now his jaw went slack in shock at the sight of my smile, but he had not yet heard what I had, to my ears distinguished as the sound of tramping boots on the cobbles outside. That sound meant that I was content to watch him as the noise grew louder and more recognizable. Then, recognizing the racket for what it was, he jumped to his feet, shooting a panic-stricken glance first at his minions, then at the provosts, who seemed rooted to the ground in shock themselves. Despite being prepared for it, the booming sound of someone banging on the door to Lepidus’ office almost made me jump, while it certainly had that effect on Lepidus and the rest of the men in the office. I felt a twinge of pity for the slaves, who were now cowering in terror, looking for any nook and cranny to hide in, though from the way it looked, Lepidus was going to beat them to it.
“Excuse me, Triumvir,” I said as I turned to walk to the door, pulling it open.
Standing there was Scribonius, his face a mask, and as soon as I opened the door wide, without a word being said, he filed past me, followed by every Centurion and Optio of the 10th Legion, all of them wearing their full uniforms, and most importantly, their weapons. The office was very large, yet even so, cramming 120 men into it was impossible, so a number of the men waited outside. Lepidus finally found his voice, and while I am sure that he wanted his words to come out a thunderous roar, what everyone in the room heard was more of a spluttering squeak.
“What do you mean by this? You’re here to assassinate me.”
The idea was so ludicrous that I burst out laughing, which I admit seemed incongruous given the seriousness of what was taking place.
“Not at all, Triumvir,” I assured him. “We're all loyal and obedient servants of Rome. The Centurions and Optios here came of their own free will out of concern for my well-being.”
Scribonius now stepped forward, having been selected by the others to be the spokesman.
