Marching With Caesar - Civil War (55 page)

~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of the evening flew by, as we were treated to what had to have been every animal and bird that inhabited Egypt. I must say that once I got over my initial nervousness, I enjoyed myself immensely. Evening turned to night, then night to day, the conversation and entertainment never seeming to end. There were jugglers, acrobats, dancers, mimes, the latter being the most popular with the Romans, and wrestling matches among huge Nubian champions. Even with watering the wine, I felt myself getting more and more inebriated, but after a few thirds of a watch, I did not worry so much about making a fool of myself, for which I give Cleopatra the credit. She was astonishing, so much so that by the time the banquet was ended in the morning of the next day, I no longer wondered what Caesar saw in her. She had a wit that was both cutting and charming at the same time, while she told some jokes that would have made the saltiest Gregarius on his third enlistment blush, which made them no less funny. In fact, I think that it came from such a tiny, pregnant girl made them even funnier, so that even men like Hirtius, who was not normally susceptible to her charms, was doubled over with laughter, his face turning redder than I had ever seen. I do not believe I have ever eaten as much at one time before or since, and I am known for my prodigious appetite. The men behaved themselves perfectly and we wobbled out of the hall to where our boats waited to take us back to our respective ships, arms around each other as we sang marching songs, reliving all that we had just seen. I needed help being hauled aboard my ship, but it was not due to my leg, which at least for that day was not bothering me at all. Diocles staggered under my weight as he helped me to my quarters, where I collapsed on the bunk and fell asleep immediately, not waking up until sunset later that day.

~ ~ ~ ~

This was the manner in which we passed the days, but while there was a banquet on the royal barge almost every night, all of us were only invited that one time. I was invited back, just myself, twice more but never at Caesar’s table again, which was fine with me, since it meant I could relax more. Cartufenus and I usually sat together, also fine with me because we enjoyed each other’s company and had more fun. Every so often, the fleet would stop sailing to allow Caesar and Cleopatra to disembark, with the queen wanting to show Caesar one of the local sights, usually a temple or monument. They were always accompanied by one Century at least, depending on how far they were going, along of course with Caesar’s personal bodyguard, while I usually went along. It was during one of these trips that I saw with my very eyes one of the most amazing and awe-inspiring sights in the known world. I am of course referring to those massive structures called the Pyramids, and there are no words to describe them adequately. They are as tall as small mountains, built of huge blocks of stone. Cleopatra was quite knowledgeable in their construction, and of course, Caesar, being the engineering genius that he was, asked innumerable questions and was keenly interested. What I found most astonishing was that as large as these structures are, ultimately they are to hold the remains of one man, even if they were Pharaoh. The other thing that struck me was how old they were; Cleopatra claimed that they were more than a thousand years old, something I still find hard to believe, but it was clear that they are very, very old indeed. Regardless of how old they are, they still remain as the most impressive sight these old eyes have ever seen, even more impressive than Rome itself and all that it has to offer.

~ ~ ~ ~

Caesar and Cleopatra may have been enjoying themselves, but the men were getting bored. After the first few days of watching crocodiles eating cattle, and the huge creatures we called river horses that live in the Nile, even with the double wine ration, the men were running out of diversions. Before a full week had passed, my morning report contained details of fights between the men, or with the crew of the ship they were on. One evening, after our trip to the Pyramids, Felix rowed over to my boat, his face grim. He had barely sipped his wine before he started giving me the bad news.

“Primus Pilus, I don’t really know how to put this,” he began, and I waved him silent.

“Then just say it and don’t worry about how I'll take it. I promise I won't hold it against you.”

I had hoped this would put him at ease, except it did not have the effect I intended. Instead, he did not reply, looking into his wine cup as he seemed to be considering something. I was about to say something but I bit it back, sure that I would make things worse.

“It’s just that what I'm about to tell you is…..awkward,” he said carefully. “It’s awkward because it concerns one of my fellow Centurions, and as much as I've come to admire and respect you, I've still served with these men longer than I have with you.”

He looked at me to gauge my reaction, but I still said nothing, deciding to wait for him to continue. Very briefly, I thought about reminding him of his duty, that he owed his first allegiance to his commanding officer and to the 6th Legion, except I knew things were not always that simple, so I remained silent.

Seeing that I was not going to speak, he sighed. “Very well, you're not going to make this easy are you? It concerns Cornuficius. He's been working on the men, convincing them that they need to put pressure on Caesar to end this . . . whatever you want to call it, and go home so we can finish this business once and for all.”

I shook my head, taking a deep drink from my own wine cup. It was always Cornuficius; he was turning out to be more of a pain than Celer ever thought about being.

Felix looked at me, waiting for me to speak. “That would be a huge mistake. You were there when the Spanish Legions threatened to mutiny. In fact that’s why you’re here and they’re not, and I can tell you this.” I leaned forward, pointing my finger at him, something he did not deserve, but I was angry. “The Spanish Legions and the 10th in particular did more for Caesar than the 6th ever has or ever will, and he still sent them home in disgrace. Trying to pressure Caesar is absolutely the worst thing the men could try.”

“I know.” Felix held his hands up in protest, “and I told Cornuficius that, but he won’t listen. Ever since that business with Fuscus, he knows he runs the Cohort. That’s why I came to you.”

“What do you know about what happened with Fuscus?” I asked sharply.

“No more than what everyone knows, that Fuscus ordered the Cohort to leave the tents alone and Cornuficius ignored him. And once he did, the rest of the Centurions followed Cornuficius’ lead. They’re all afraid of him, except Sertorius, but he had been wounded by that point and wasn’t there.”

“The 10th isn't your Cohort,” I pointed out. “So why are you the one to tell me this?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re part of the 6th, and this is just as much my Legion as it is Cornuficius’ or anyone else. And you’re right; I was there in camp and I saw what Caesar did. I also heard that he ordered the 9th to be decimated before that, and I know that if he would do that to a Legion who marched with him in Gaul, he wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to us.”

I rubbed my face, trying to think of what to do. For a moment, I thought about going to Caesar, telling him what Cornuficius was up to, and suggesting that the same thing happen to Cornuficius that happened to Verres Rufus. Almost immediately, I rejected the idea, for a number of reasons, not least of which was giving Caesar any indication that I was unable to handle the problem. That meant I would have to handle this on my own, so I sat with Felix, making small talk while I worked on a solution. Cornuficius had to be stopped, one way or another, and I was beginning to come up with an idea on how to make it happen.

~ ~ ~ ~

Fortunately, not only the men of the 6th wanted to go home; Caesar’s generals were anxious to leave as well, they finally prevailed upon Caesar to end his holiday. Turning about two days before my 30th birthday in April, our progress back down the river was much swifter than it had been in the opposite direction, since we were going downstream and we did not stop at every village, town, temple, and monument on the way. Entering the open water, we sailed to Alexandria, bringing Cleopatra and her entire retinue back home, while the men began preparing for what they thought would be a voyage back to Italy, especially once word got out of what was going on back home. Antonius had been making a mess of things, appointing men to posts based on nothing more than his whim at the moment, or how much money they paid him, of course. Payoffs for offices have been part of the system for the gods know how long, but usually there is some minor consideration given to the ability of the men vying for office, yet apparently, this was something that Antonius was not paying any attention to at all. One man in particular, Dolabella, was running rampant and causing much trouble. Also waiting for me personally was word that Gisela had indeed given birth to a baby girl, and she was asking what name should be given to her. After thinking about it, I wrote that I wanted the child called Livia to honor my dead sister. The situation with the Legions was not much better than the political situation in Rome; the men had been sitting in camp on the Campus Martius for the last several months waiting for Caesar to return to make good on his promises, and there was increasing unrest. All in all, there were numerous reasons that Caesar needed to return to Rome. Perhaps that is why he chose to do nothing of the sort and attend to a completely different matter.

~ ~ ~ ~

Caesar had appointed Domitius Calvinus governor of Asia, and he had sent the 37th to Caesar while retaining the 36th, despite Caesar calling for both Legions to join us in Alexandria. To be fair to Domitius, he had good reason not to send the 36th; another son of Mithridates, Pharnaces was his name, was raising havoc in the region, invading Cappadocia and Armenia with a large host. Deiotarus was the king of Galatia, the invaded regions part of his domains, so he went to Domitius, begging for help. The fact that he had originally sided with Pompey meant that he could not come to Domitius empty-handed, so he was forced to promise a substantial sum to help defray the costs of the war we were fighting in Alexandria, to which Domitius promptly agreed. Domitius then marched with the 36th along with Galatian Legions trained in the Roman manner and a force of auxiliaries to confront Pharnaces. In the ensuing battle, Domitius was soundly defeated a few miles from the city of Nicopolis. This was the matter that Caesar was now determined to address, judging that it posed a greater threat to the security of the region than the events in Rome. Consequently, I was summoned to headquarters and ordered to make ready to march overland to the province of Syria. I must say that I was not happy to receive these orders, knowing how the men would react at being told that instead of boarding ships for home, they would be marching to fight yet again. Most worryingly, I had to think about Cornuficius and what emotions he would arouse with this news, wondering which Centurions would side with him. Although I had begun to form an idea on how to neutralize him, it was still not the right time for me to implement my plan, and I worried that this news would render what I had come up with so far useless. These thoughts were at the forefront of my mind when I returned to our quarters to tell Diocles to summon the Centurions. When they arrived, they were in a boisterous, happy mood, sure that I was about to tell them what they had been expecting since we returned to Alexandria.

“We're marching day after tomorrow.”

The Centurions’ first reaction was to cheer. After a moment, I could see that my words were sinking in, their expressions rapidly changing. Not surprisingly, Cornuficius raised his hand.

“When you say ‘march,’ do you mean down to the docks?”

I did not see any point in delaying the inevitable reaction. “No.”

I might have to deal with their displeasure, I thought, but I do not have to make it any easier on them than they would on me.

“Then march where?”

“Wherever Caesar orders us to,” I replied sharply, immediately regretting it. Because Cornuficius was my enemy did not mean I should punish the other men. “We're marching to Syria,” I relented.

There was a moment of shocked silence, then the air was filled with protests, and Cornuficius shot me a triumphant look.

“
Silete
!”

I did not mean to be so loud, but it had the desired effect, the men immediately shutting their mouths, their expressions sullen.

I decided that I needed to make an attempt to give details on why Caesar made this decision. “We received word that General Domitius suffered a defeat at Nicopolis at the hands of Pharnaces,” I explained. “Deiotarus has asked for our help to expel the Pontics from the territory they’ve seized. That’s what Domitius was trying to do when he was beaten. Caesar has decided that affairs in this part of the world take precedence over what is going on back in Rome.”

“That’s fine for Caesar, but I don’t see what it has to do with us,” Cornuficius replied. “Our agreement with Caesar was very specific. We would march for him until the civil war is over. What happens in Armenia or fuck-knows-where doesn't concern us.”