Marching With Caesar - Civil War (39 page)

Indicating my private quarters, he said tersely, “This is better spoken of in private, Pullus.”

Once we were settled, he sat looking at his feet for a moment, obviously trying to decide the best way to begin.

Finally, he looked up, his expression strained. “We’ve got problems, Pullus.”

“So I gathered. What happened?”

“Some of your men have beaten one of mine almost to death. The doctors don't think he’s going to survive.”

This was indeed serious, but the punishment was straightforward and I said as much. In the back of my mind was the belief that because of the circumstances, Caesar could be persuaded to suspend punishment, but I was puzzled by Cartufenus’ discomfort.

“It’s not quite that simple.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s why the man was beaten that's the problem.”

This got my attention, and I leaned forward, indicating that he should continue.

“Apparently your boys overheard some of my men talking about the situation.”

“And? I don’t understand. So, some of your men were moaning about our circumstances.”

He looked uneasy, but continued, “They were doing more than moaning. The man who was beaten was apparently the ringleader of a group of men who were talking about deserting over to the Egyptians.”

That made me sit up, I can tell you. As bad as that was, I sensed that there was more, and I was right.

“They weren’t going over empty-handed. They were going to offer the Egyptians information about our defenses in exchange for safe passage, and some money.”

“Do you know if they had made contact with the Egyptians yet?”

Cartufenus shook his head. “I don’t know. The man that yours beat is unconscious, so I couldn’t question him.”

“What about the others? You said there were others.”

“They scattered to the four winds. Your men didn’t get a good enough look at them to identify anyone. I already asked.”

“Where are my men now?”

“They’re outside the theater under guard.”

I sat thinking for a moment. Cartufenus was right; this was a very sticky situation, and was one of those matters better off staying among the ranks and not reaching the ears of Caesar or his generals. I got up and went with Cartufenus to where my men were standing, watched by a section from the 28th. I was about to make a sharp comment to Cartufenus about using his men to guard mine, but I realized that if he had called the provosts there would have been no way to keep this quiet, so instead I quietly thanked him. His only reply was a nod. Even as we walked down the narrow back street towards the theater, the idea formed in my mind about whom I might find under guard, so I cannot say I was very surprised when I saw that two of the men were the brothers Tetarfenus. There were four of them all together. They watched us approach with expressions ranging from apprehension to defiance, and the brothers bore the latter look on their face. Despite myself, I sighed, not wanting any part of this, but knowing that it had to be handled delicately. No matter the reason, the men could not escape punishment for what they had done, yet if I made their penalty too harsh, they had the right to seek an audience with the Legate, and if they were still not satisfied, with Caesar. That, of course, would be the exact opposite result that Cartufenus and I were trying to achieve, making me just as apprehensive as the men, but unlike them, I could not let it show. Sergeant Tetarfenus was the ranking Legionary, and it was to him that I addressed my first question.

“Sergeant, what do you have to say for yourself and these men?”

Tetarfenus was standing at
intente
, along with the other three men, and his tone was emotionless as he gave his report.

“Primus Pilus, we overheard some of the men of the 28th plotting to desert to the Egyptians. In exchange for safe passage, they were offering information about our defenses and dispositions. Oh,” he added, “and they wanted money as well.”

“I know all that,” I said impatiently. “My question is, why did you think it was the right thing to do to take matters into your own hands and beat one of the men half to death without going to your Centurion, or to me?”

He shrugged. “We knew that you and Hastatus Posterior Clemens had other things on your minds.”

“Well, thank you very much for your concern, Sergeant,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “But thanks to your little stunt, now it’s not just Clemens and I that are involved, but the Primus Pilus of the 28th as well. And you’ve dumped us in the
cac
up to our necks.”

Tetarfenus shifted uncomfortably, and I saw the other three men shooting glances at each other. It was clear that they had talked things over among themselves, but apparently, matters were not going the way they thought they would.

“Er, yes sir. Sorry about that, sir. We just thought . . .”

I cut him off. “And now we come to the kernel of the problem, Sergeant. You've been in the army long enough to know that of all the things a ranker should be doing, thinking isn't one of them. That's what your Centurions and Optios are for. And because you had ideas above your rank, now here we all are with our asses hanging in the air. So, since you decided to think for yourself, what do you think I should do with the four of you? Please, enlighten me.”

I crossed my arms, looking down at Tetarfenus, who looked back at me, his expression becoming calculating, though he said nothing. After a moment, I realized that he was unsure how freely he could speak, so I told him that he could speak his mind and I would not hold it against him.

He looked first at Cartufenus, then at me, and finally said, “Well, sir, as I see it, there’s not a whole lot you can do. Officially, I mean,” he added hastily, seeing my eyes narrow in anger at the suggestion that I was powerless, “but I know that there are . . . other ways that you can punish us. Sir.”

I said nothing, just nodded for him to continue. He eyed the others, and I caught an almost imperceptible nod from his brother.

His tone was shrewd as he continued, “But as far as official punishment, I don’t think either of you are particularly anxious for the boys and me to tell any of the generals why we beat that prick.” I saw Cartufenus’ lips thin in anger, but he said nothing. Taking our silence as recognition of the truth in what he was saying, which indeed it was, he went on, “So you’re somewhat limited in what you can do to us. But, I also understand that we must be punished in some ways.” I saw the faces of his companions turn to him in surprise and not a little anger, but he shook his head, saying firmly, “So, we'll accept whatever punishment you deem fit. The only thing I would add is that I do think that the reason we beat that . . . man should be taken into consideration.”

He looked at Cartufenus when he said this last part. The message was unmistakable, and both Cartufenus and I knew it. I could not help admiring Tetarfenus; he had done us both very neatly. If I ignored what he said and punished them harshly, no matter how unofficial it was, the word would get out not just about the punishment but why they were being punished, and my tenuous hold on the 6th would be gone, although it would appease the men of the 28th. Conversely, if Cartufenus pushed for a harsh punishment, there is no doubt that the planned treachery of his men would become common knowledge throughout the army. While his men might appreciate his attempt to exact revenge for their comrade, he would lose Caesar’s confidence that he had control of his Legion. Now all that was left was to determine exactly how the men should be punished, but I decided that since we had gone this far, it made sense to continue.

“Very well, Sergeant,” I finally replied, my tone as neutral as I could make it. “I understand what you're saying. I’m not saying I agree, but I understand. So if you were me, how would you proceed?”

He suddenly looked uncomfortable; obviously, he had not planned on being forced to come up with a suitable punishment. If it had just been for himself, I doubt it would have been a problem, but now he had to worry about how the other three men, including his brother, would take whatever he proposed. Now, he was in a tight spot, and as he looked at me, I smiled, except it was not a pleasant smile. See how you like it, you little turd, I thought.

He did not speak for a moment, then finally said, “I don't think a flogging or any reduction in rank would be appropriate, nor would any punishment that had to be entered in the Legion diary, like reduction of rations. Besides, unless I miss my guess, we’re all going to be on reduced rations before long.” He smiled grimly. “I think extra watches for a week, and extra fatigues for the same length of time.”

“A month,” I responded instantly, and he opened his mouth to protest, yet stopped himself, his mouth reducing into a thin line the only sign that he was angry. The other men did not do as good a job of hiding their displeasure, but I was unmoved. I knew that he would only propose a punishment that the men would laugh about later around their fire because it was so light. And while it may sound trivial, extra watches and extra fatigue duty meant that these four men would be dead on their feet, getting perhaps one watch’s worth of sleep a night for the next month. By the last week of their punishment, they would be more dead than alive. Besides, I reasoned, the way things looked, they might very well be dead long before the month was up. The matter settled, the men were dismissed and as they walked back to their quarters, I watched them go, thinking that Sergeant Tetarfenus would bear watching. He had potential as a leader, but he also had a clever streak that might get him into trouble.

~ ~ ~ ~

Just as the doctors had predicted, the man in the 28th died without ever regaining consciousness, creating another problem because of all the paperwork that is involved when a man dies in something other than battle. If he had died just the day before, during the fight for the docks, no questions would be asked. But since there had been no skirmishes taking place anywhere when the man died, we would have to come up with a reason for his demise. Actually, Cartufenus would have to come up with the reason, but since we were more or less bound in this together, I was not surprised when he showed up in my quarters, a stylus and wax tablet in hand, ready to write down what we came up with.

“We can’t list him as a fever because it'd be too sudden. Besides, he’s beaten from head to toe. If any of the Tribunes or Legates got curious and saw the body, there'd be too many questions.”

I nodded, thinking about it. “Why don’t we just dump him over the wall? He was going to desert anyway; we can just say that he disappeared.”

“I already thought of that,” Cartufenus said glumly. “The problem is that the doctor is chummy with our Tribune. He might not say anything, but I can’t be sure. If he hadn’t been brought to the hospital, that would have worked.”

“Who brought him?” I asked, annoyed that some ranker had complicated matters.

Cartufenus shrugged, indicating that he did not know. We sat there disconsolately, not even able to suck down wine because it was being rationed. Finally, we decided to say that he had been found beaten and unconscious, but had no idea of the circumstances. This fiction had the advantage of being partially true, and was completely deniable. Oh, there would be a raised eyebrow, and perhaps even suspicions, except matters like these occurred all the time in the army, and our superior officers were all experienced men who had been under the standard for several years. They knew that there were things that they did not know, and that they did not want to know. I think they may have been surprised about how much they actually were not aware of, even Caesar, although he was better informed than any of the other generals I ever served with. The other thing in our favor was that Caesar and his entire staff had much more pressing problems than the death of a single Gregarius, no matter what the circumstances, meaning that we made our report, then heard nothing more about it.

~ ~ ~ ~

In the larger world, the Egyptians had sent out a call for a
dilectus
of their own, this one going out to the whole kingdom of Egypt. Men began streaming into the city, drawn by the promise of booty, glory, steady meals, or whatever motivated them. Standing on the roofs of the buildings, we watched the Gabinians put the new men through their paces, while the rest of the Egyptian army continued to build towers and walls, constructing them to a height that overlooked our own positions. From prisoners, we learned that Achillas had ordered the conversion of every local smith and metalworker into a military endeavor, where they were churning out weapons and ammunition. Woodworking shops were similarly working on ballistae and scorpions; in short, the entire city had been mobilized to destroy us. With thousands of mouths to feed, along with more than 900 horses, only the horses were eating well, thanks to the marsh grasses that men went out to gather under cover of darkness. The salt grass of the marsh was so rich and plentiful that not only did the horses not suffer from hunger, they actually filled out some, indirectly ending up as a help to the men later. The Egyptians also were focusing their efforts on exacting revenge for the loss of their fleet by attacking ours, moored in the Great Harbor. For their first attempt, they sent small boats loaded with men through the arches from the Inner Harbor, and Caesar’s foresight in placing a detachment with artillery on Pharos Island was fulfilled, with every boat destroyed. Undaunted, they tried again, this time sending boats loaded with combustibles that were set afire, except the wind was against them, causing the boats to do more damage to Egyptian shipping than to ours.