Centurion's Rise (14 page)

“Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. God looks beyond our words and religious activities to see if our conduct matches what we say, and he judges our words by the actions that accompany them.

“The chosen people are those who believe, recognize their shortcomings, and truly ask for help and forgiveness for those failings,” the wildly enraged preacher shouted as he thrust both fists into the air.  “The chosen people are those who live their lives by God’s example and fight with every ounce of their being to further his kingdom on earth.

“Just as a fruit tree is expected to bear fruit,” the preacher went on.  “God’s people should produce a crop of good deeds.  God has no use for people who call themselves the chosen but live otherwise.  If others can’t see your faith in the way you treat them, then you have no covenant with God.
” 

“Even now the ax
e of his judgment is poised,” he shouted in a gravelly voice to the crowd.  “He stands ready to sever the roots of every tree that does not produce good fruit.  These useless timbers will be chopped down and tossed into a never ending fire.”

“I’m a tax collector,” a man admitted from the crowd.  “People call me a thief and a traitor for performing these duties.  Is there redemption for me?  What must I do?”

“Collect no more taxes than the government requires,” the preacher replied.  He looked ready to expand on his statement, but was interrupted.

“Enough of this,” a Roman guard boomed from behind the crowd, which instantly induced a terrified silence.  Tonwen recognized the guard as the greedy fellow who took ten silver coins from him earlier in the day.  This should be interesting Tonwen thought to himself. 

“I’m not a Hebrew,” the guard went on as he paced through the parting crowd toward the preacher.  “And I muscle your people around like cattle.  When my purse runs light I pilfer more coin from those I stand watch over.  How can a man like me earn redemption with your God?”

The soldier came to a stop directly in front of the preacher, spread his feet shoulder width apart, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for an adequate answer.

“If you truly seek forgiveness and desire to walk on the righteous path from this day forward,” the Baptist instructed without a hint of fear, “you will follow me into these waters, ask for God’s forgiveness with a true heart and then come up from beneath the water’s surface born anew in the eyes of the almighty.  Then you will seek absolution from those you’ve wronged and from this day forward you will no longer extort money or make false accusations.  You will be content with your pay and live a life of example.”

Without a sound, the guard followed the preacher into the waters of the Jordan River.  The wiry preacher pinched the man’s nose and forced him to lay back and then plunged him completely beneath the water’s surface.  A second later the soldier erupted from the water, gasping for air and shaking his entire upper body to shed the water stubbornly clinging to his form.

The only sound heard by the thousands gathered was the soft babbling of water over the rolling stones of the river.  No one knew what would happen next.  Would the guard snap the preacher’s neck for assaulting him?  Would he order the other guards present to attack the crowd?  Would he go to the other extreme and start speaking in unintelligible religious tongues?  The next few moments would answer such questions.

The soldier shrugged off the preacher’s touch and made his way back to the shoreline while wiping away the water continuing to trickle  into his eyes.  He abruptly stopped and slowly surveyed the crowd with a rotating head; searching for something – someone.

His gaze finally passed over Tonwen and a spark of recognition hit the man.  Still with only the gently flowing water as an audible backdrop, the soldier paced a straight line to Tonwen.  He stopped in front of him and reached his hand toward the sword attached to his right hip.  The hand moved past the deadly instrument and instead wrapped around a leather purse.  The bag of coins landed in Tonwen’s hand with a clink. 

“Today I begin my life of example,” the soldier said softly and then moved past Tonwen heading for the road back to Jerusalem.

The soldier’s miraculous change of heart clearly spoke volumes to Tonwen’s new friend Isa.  The man was so moved by the experience that he seized Tonwen’s hand and raced both of them forward to meet the preacher in the waist high river waters.

“We are simple men living simple lives.  What should we do?”  Isa begged of the preacher.

“If you have two shirts, give one to the poor,” the preacher replied for everyone watching to hear.  “If you have food, share it with those who are hungry.”

“I will,” Isa pledged.

“Then receive this baptism as a symbol of your commitment to a new, righteous life,” the preacher declared and then plunged him under the waters and left him to emerge on his own accord.  Without looking back the preacher moved on to Tonwen and dunked him under the waves as well.

The rush of water into his nose and ears thoroughly disoriented Tonwen for several seconds.  Finally he reestablished a firm footing beneath his frame and rose up out of the water.  As his head breached the surface he opened his eyes and saw the blinding light of the mid-day sun lancing through the thick clouds.  His blindness only lasted a moment before the dense cloud cover of the dreary day obscured the sun once more. 

As the water drained from his ear canal, Tonwen was able to hear once more. 

“ . . . well pleased.” He heard before turning around to face the preacher again.  Hundreds of pilgrims were now following Isa and Tonwen’s example and receiving their baptism at the hands of this man. 

“I am well pleased to see so many grasping their chance at redemption,” the preacher shouted as he dunked the pilgrims one after the other.  The preacher stopped his actions for a moment when he saw the cluster of well-dressed men and many other skeptics leaving while shaking their heads and flailing their arms in disbelief.

“Mark my words,” he admonished the departing soles.  “Everyone will one day be baptized – either now by God’s Holy Spirit, or later by the fire of his judgment.”

“
Where is my nephew
?” Caesar demanded.

“It appears his ship went down as we crossed the Adr
iatic to reach Greece,” Mark Antony replied.  “The nearest vessel lost sight of his ship during the storm, and we’ve had no word since.”

“You will organize your cavalry into a search party and scour the co
astline for him,” Caesar ordered.  “Octavian must be found or my sister will never forgive me.”

“
General, in all honesty we can’t do that,” Antony meekly replied.  “We have Pompey’s forces cornered against the coastline, but he has two times our infantry, and four times our cavalry.  We can’t spare the men to go looking for someone, who in all likelihood, lies at the bottom of the sea along with any trace of his ship.  It’s a fool’s errand.”

Caesar sprang to his feet
, grabbed Mark Antony by the throat and squeezed.  “Only a fool abandons his family.”

“I’ve paid the fleet captain to search the sea and coast with his ships,” Antony croaked.  The statement caused Caesar to release his grip.
  Coughing and gasping for air, Antony continued, “Let them do their work.  Right now battle with Pompey is imminent, and we can’t jeopardize the entire campaign for just one man, even if he is your nephew.”

Caesar shrugged as he paced uneasily about the room.  “Damn
, damnit to Hades, you’re right!”  As if an internal switch was thrown, he jumped back into command mode.  “So tell me, how is the construction of the siege works progressing?”

“E
verything is nearly complete,” Antony replied with pride.  “There’s one last hilltop on our left where we still need to finish the fortifications.  By the end of day tomorrow Pompey and his men will be completely sealed in.”

“Reinforce that area until the walls are up
and have the reserves stand ready,” Caesar ordered.  “Pompey will try to break through there; tomorrow I’d wager.  What about the rest of our forces, where are they?”

“The fleet could
n’t carry everyone, especially the horses on the first crossing.  Pompey’s navy has taken control of the immediate area so the remaining men and horses were placed a few hundred miles to our north.  They’re still a week’s march away.”

“Hmm,” Caesar pondered.  “Yet another reason for
Pompey to strike immediately.  He will attack tomorrow on the left.  I’d stake my life on it.  Make sure we’re prepared because he is going to throw everything he has at us.”

**********

Pompey Magnus strutted about his command tent in front of the officer corps.  “We are being herded into a corner like sheep, and tomorrow the pen gate gets closed behind us.  We must attack their unfinished fortifications on their left with everything we have.”

The obedient, yet inexperienced officers around him voiced their agreement.  Considering the matter settled
, Pompey moved on to describe the plan of attack when his trusted friend, Marcus Junius Brutus gave a dissenting opinion.

“With respect G
eneral,” Brutus said.  “Caesar will expect that and have his entire army there waiting for you to fling your relatively untrained men against his veterans.”

“What would you have us do then
, Senator?” Pompey asked while emphasizing the man’s political rather than military rank.  “Let Caesar finish the encirclement of our army and beg him to let us out?”

“Not at all,” Brut
us said with a sly grin.  “I think we need to attack exactly where you suggest, but I humbly suggest we use it as a diversion to smash through Caesar’s right.  The little misdirection would stem our losses and maximize Caesar’s I believe.”

“I’m all ears,” Pompey arrogantly sighed.  Having the wisdom of his orders for battle questioned by a politician was frustrating.  He was Pompey Ma
gnus after all.

“Caesar ha
s only seen six of your legions.  My three have remained tucked away from prying eyes thus far,” Brutus instructed.  “Attack Caesar’s left with the legions he knows about.  Once he commits his reserves send my men and all the cavalry to Caesar’s right.  With 15,000 men, creating a breakthrough will be a simple matter, especially against his non-veteran troops.”

Pompey
could feel the stares of every man in the tent pressing in on him, trying to gauge his reaction.  Would he deem the suggestion foolish and dismiss it and the man who offered it?  Would he take it as an insult to have his plans questioned?  Pompey gave no answer.  He simply paced back and forth with his arms clasped behind his back in thought. 

The Senator, a non-
military man, gave a suggestion that had merit.  Why didn’t he think of it first?  In his prime he was certain the Senator’s course of action would have come to him immediately.  He questioned whether age had diminished his ability to command an army. Did he really have it in him to defeat Caesar?

The self doubt came to a quick end as Pompey stopped and looked directly at Brutus.  “
You make an excellent suggestion.  You may have missed your calling by waging battles on the senate floor rather than the field.”

Brutus absorbed the compli
ment with grace and inclined his head to Pompey to show the suggestion was not a challenge to his authority.  The gesture put Pompey’s mind at ease for the time being.

The next morning started off with a bang.  All across the front line catapults launched their projectiles toward Caesar’s fortified wa
lls, presumably testing for a weak point.  Pompey instructed his artillery officers not to be obvious about it, but the focus of their damage was to be on Caesar’s right in order to allow Brutus and his army to push through once Caesar took the bait on the left.

While the bombardment commenced, Pompey rode at the head of 30,000 foot soldiers as they closed in on the incomplete fortifications on the left
side of Caesar’s army.  When arrows started hissing past, he fell in line behind his advancing soldiers shouting words of valor to stir their hearts for glorious battle.

Soon the clanking of sword against sword and banging of shields filled the air with a low but constant rumble.  Pompey kept his battle line only six men deep, choosing to extend the line.  With the extra length Pompey was able to smother Caesar’s men on three sides with ferocious combat.
  It had the desired effect.  His heart pounded with pride and excitement as Caesar’s men were immediately pushed back by the sheer volume of soldiers pressing against them. Within minutes, Caesar sent in his reserve units as his forces were in jeopardy of getting pushed off the high ground.

Once all of Caesar’s reserves were actively engaged in combat
Pompey turned to one of his archers and gestured with his arm toward the west.  Obediently, the archer set his arrow on fire and launched it into the open field to the left.  At the bottom of the hill another flaming arrow was launched westward, and another and another until the last signal arrow reached Brutus and his waiting army.

In the far distance
, Pompey saw a cloud of dust begin moving to the northwest to engage Caesar’s right flank.  With any luck Brutus would crash through the line with his unexpected numbers, and they could completely encircle the enemy and end the rebellion in a few short hours.

The hours passed, but they were anything but short.  Caesar’s r
eserves knew their business and nearly broke through Pompey’s battle lines on several occasions.  The only thing keeping the men together was the encouragement of their general that the rest of the army was rolling up the enemy’s rear.  As the hours passed, the distant dust cloud that was Brutus’ army drew closer and closer.

By the time Brutus and his men actually came into view, Caesar’s
troops disengaged from the battle line.  At first it looked to be a well-organized retreat, but as the cavalry at Brutus’ command drew near, the retreating army broke into a full sprint for the next ridge and looked to be in complete disarray. 

Pompey sat in his saddle on the newly conquered hilltop and debated the wisdom of pursuing Caesar’s men.  They looked broken and a retreating hoard of panic
ked men could be cut to ribbons by their pursuers.  The war could be over that day if he gave the order. 

The only thing stopping him was the
nagging feeling that it was a trap.  On several occasions he ordered his men to feign a retreat only to draw the pursuing forces into a second line that was able to dispatch the chaotic pursuit with little difficulty.

He thought long and hard.  He
’d never faced Caesar in battle before, but the man’s cunning in combat was well documented.  What’s more, his men were hardened veterans; they did not flee from battle in panic.  Pompey concluded it was indeed a trap and ordered his men to hold their ground and wait for Brutus and his legions to join their line before advancing further.

Two hours passed before Brutus finally came galloping up to Pompey and the rest of his officers
resting comfortably on the hilltop.  The man was drenched in blood from head to toe and looked completely out of breath.  Despite the man’s fatigue, his eyes and face blazed with anger.

“What in the name of the g
ods are you doing just sitting here,” Brutus hollered.  “We had them completely broken and on the run.  We gave chase until our legs could no longer move nor our arms swing a sword.  Now here I find you with the bulk of the army resting comfortably on your backsides.  We had them!”

“It was a trap,
” Pompey bellowed.  “It was a clever attempt to get my men to break rank and run after them so a second line could spring upon our haggard line.  It would have sent my men reeling in retreat and possibly lost the battle.”

“Lost?” Brutus repeated as he gestured to w
here Caesar’s army once stood.  “They lost.  They had my soldiers and cavalry rushing into their rear.  They were done for and they bloody well knew it so they ran.  They ran to fight another day and you let it happen!”

Deep down Pompey knew his caution cos
t him a great victory, another Triumph through the streets of Rome perhaps, but he was not about to have it lorded over him by a politician playing general for the day.  He erupted with anger. 

“
That is enough from you, Senator.  You took an unnecessary risk in a reckless pursuit.  You were correct this time, but the consequences had you been wrong would have meant disaster.”

Pompey moved his stare from Brutus to look at all those around him.  He needed to show them all his was the correct course of action.  “We
absorbed the stiffest blows that Caesar’s best soldiers have to offer and in the end sent them running with their yellow backs to us.  Their spirit of invincibility is gone, defeating them again will be a simple matter now.”

“Caesar heads north to regroup with the rest of his forces,” Brutus protested.  “
An enemy who runs away will fight again, with a renewed hatred gained from a damaged ego.”

“I said enough,” Pompey shouted.  “Another insubordinate word and I will have you arrested.”

Brutus nearly spoke further but seemed to regain control of his faculties and thought better of it.  He quietly fell in line with the other officers behind their general.  Pompey glanced back to make sure a knife was not sticking in his back with Brutus’ hand attached to it.  The Senator would bear watching in the future.  He was correct this time and might be able to wrestle away command of the army if he wasn’t careful.

**********

  Caesar sat atop his mighty horse along side a road his army was using to march north and merge with the rest of his forces.  Next to him on his own mount sat Mark Antony.  Both men were well worn from the day’s fighting.  The soldiers marching past took heart that their noble leaders shared in the hardship of the day’s fighting.

“Well done soldiers,” Caesar shout
ed for those nearby to hear and draw encouragement.  “Hold your heads high for you fought against three times your numbers to bide time for the rest of our army to assemble.  Though we leave the field of battle, it is under our own terms and only after delivering Pompey’s army a severe blow.  The stage is now set for our victory that will soon follow at the next engagement.  Heads high men, for you did Rome great service this day.”

“Hur
rah!” the men bellowed as they marched past their revered general.

Caesar leaned over to Mark Antony and said quietly, “You can give the encouraging speech to the next group.
”

“Yes sir,” Antony replied as he dre
w even closer to Caesar so his was the only ear that could hear.  “This army should not exist right now if you ask me.  The god Jupiter still smiles upon us.”

Caesar kept the close proximity and
replied to Mark Antony, “Today victory was the enemy’s, had there been anyone among them to take it.  That man, Pompey, doesn’t know how to win a war, but I do.”