Marching With Caesar - Civil War (95 page)

I found myself sitting upright, shocked to my core. “Trebonius,” I gasped.

I had known about Decimus Brutus, which was something of a shock, but nothing like this. Gaius Trebonius had been one of Caesar’s most loyal lieutenants, benefitting greatly from Caesar’s patronage and support.

Pollio nodded wearily. “He didn't wield a knife, that much is true. But he kept Antonius tied up on some nonsense outside while the others did the deed. Yes,” he sighed. “I'm afraid that Trebonius was in it up to his eyebrows. So you see,” he continued, “that's another reason why Antonius can't just order the execution of any of the assassins, who by the way, are calling themselves The Liberators.” Pollio laughed at this, though there was no humor in it. “The Liberators. What a joke. What do they think they've liberated us from? The Republic is dead as Caesar, it’s never going to come back.”

I must admit that his last remark disturbed me; like most Romans of my class, I could not really explain exactly what the Republic was, I just knew that it had been in existence for hundreds of years.

I also believed that it was the best form of government in history, though I could no more explain why this was so than I could sprout wings. “You think the Republic is finished?” I asked cautiously.

Pollio gave me a sharp look, clearly trying to determine if I had some ulterior motive. Such were the times that we were all looking at each other out of the corner of our eyes, wondering exactly what was going on in each other's heads.

Apparently, Pollio discerned that I was sincere. “Yes, Pullus, I do. The fact is that it was dead before Caesar ever took power, but the
boni
,” he spat the term that the enemies of Caesar had claimed as their own, long before his assassination, “refused to accept that fact. Caesar’s death doesn’t change the reality, but I suspect that our Brutus and Cassius are only now coming to terms with that fact. And the jug is broken now; Caesar is dead, and nothing will bring him back.”

“So you think Antonius is doing the right thing?” was my next question, his eyes narrowing as he thought about it.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t think he’s doing the right thing, I think he’s doing the only thing that he can do under the circumstances. Until he solidifies his power base, and has a better idea of how much support Brutus and the rest of that bunch have, he really has no other choice.”

“But the people are on Antonius’ side, that has to count for something,” I argued.

“That's true,” Pollio conceded. “Pullus, don't take offense when I say this. The people of your class may have numbers, but they don't have money, and money is power. The patricians, and the wealthy equestrians, especially those who live outside of Rome, have the money, and therefore, they have the clout.”

“I’m actually eligible for the equestrian class,” I do not know exactly why I chose that moment to say this, other than my pride was stung by his words, no matter how true they may have been.

Pollio’s bushy grey eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? I didn't know that, Pullus. Well, er, congratulations I suppose,” he said awkwardly. “However, that really doesn't change things; however wealthy you may be, you're one man, and your riches are nothing compared to what the
boni
can marshal to further their cause.”

I sighed; this conversation had given me a headache, yet I had to admit grudgingly that I saw Pollio’s point, but I still needed some sort of assurance from him about Antonius’ intentions, which he could not give.

“Ultimately, as I said at the beginning of this conversation, Marcus Antonius is his own man, with his own ambitions,” Pollio finished. “He's going to do what’s best for Antonius, no matter what.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Pollio, of course, was entirely accurate, at least in his assessment of Antonius’ motives. While the common people and the veterans of Caesar’s army that had retired were grief-stricken, showing their sorrow by a spontaneous demonstration in the Forum and attempting to burn down some of the assassins’ homes, Antonius took a conciliatory stance towards the men who called themselves The Liberators, even if nobody else afforded them that title. He issued a public proclamation granting the assassins amnesty, which was hugely unpopular in the army, while I found myself making offerings of thanks to the gods that I had such a green Legion under my command, for if it had been composed of Caesar’s veterans, I do not know what would have happened. Even so, the men were extremely unsettled, while the tone was set by the remaining veterans, as whatever grievances they had had towards Caesar seemed to have evaporated with his death.

One night, I had Scribonius and Balbus as guests for dinner, and I broached the subject with them. “Do you think it’s odd that the veterans are so worked up over Caesar’s death after most of them mutinied against him?” I asked the both of them as I poured them another cup of wine.

“Not really.” Balbus shrugged. “Whatever grievances they had with Caesar, ultimately they loved him as a father. I don’t know how it was with your father, Pullus, but I loved and hated mine, all at the same time.”

I had no desire or intention of discussing my relationship with my father with either Scribonius or Balbus, but I took his point.

Considering this, I then asked the both of them, “So what do we do? Do we let them talk, or do we clamp down on them?”

Scribonius frowned as he thought about it. Then, “I don’t think trying to shut them up is going to work, it will just make them, the veterans anyway, more resentful. They need to be able to express their anger.”

Balbus shook his head immediately. “I disagree. The youngsters are going to follow the lead of the veterans, and if you let the veterans continue to moan about Caesar, you set an example that will dog this Legion for the rest of the time these men are under the standards.”

After listening to both, I agreed with Balbus, telling him and Scribonius to pass the word quietly to those veterans the most vocal in their anger that it was time for them to shut their mouths. I must admit I was somewhat torn about it, given that the men were just expressing my own feelings, but I knew that Balbus was right.

~ ~ ~ ~

Fortunately, a quiet word to a few key men was all that was needed and while the anger remained, it was muted to little more than a whisper around the fires. A few days later, at the end of April, we received word that Brutus and Cassius, no longer able to bear the pressure of constantly watching their backs and homes, had fled Rome, with Antonius aiding Brutus at least by passing a law that enabled him as urban Praetor to be absent from the city for more than the ten days prescribed by law. Antonius also introduced a law that abolished the office of Dictator, along with a measure that ratified all of Caesar’s acts prior to his death, along with his proposed measures. However, it was on Antonius’ say-so alone as to what Caesar had proposed to do and what he had actually begun implementing, since he had seized Caesar’s private papers immediately after his death. The granting of citizenship to Sicily was one example, so in effect Antonius was every bit as powerful as Caesar in this respect. Oh, he was treading a very careful path and as time passed,  and grudgingly I had to admit that Pollio had been right about Antonius, at least as far as what he was doing in the early tumultuous days after the assassination. As difficult a situation as it was, we still had to continue training the men, although we now had nowhere to march to, so we began incorporating day-long marches out into the countryside. Compounding our problems was that we had no idea when or where we would be marching, or who we would be fighting when we got wherever we were going. What all the officers feared was that we would be fighting against Romans again. Still, that did not keep us from training our men to the best of our ability.

~ ~ ~ ~

The next momentous event occurred when word arrived about the contents of Caesar’s will. Once again, I found myself sitting in Pollio’s office, but this time he was more animated than I had seen him in weeks, though not in a good way.

I had barely sat down when he waved yet another scroll in my face. “Do you know what this says?” he demanded. I assured him that I had no idea what it contained. “It’s the contents of Caesar’s will, or at least the most important parts.”

We had been expecting to hear of it for some time before this, so it was not a surprise that we were finally receiving word about it, but what followed was not just very much a surprise, but a huge shock.

“Caesar’s heir is named,” Pollio continued, and I nodded, fully expecting to hear the name Marcus Antonius, since he was really the only logical choice.

I supposed Decimus Brutus was another possibility, but I was sure that his part as one of The Liberators notwithstanding, he was not a likely candidate.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would hear the name that Pollio uttered, and so shocked was I that I made him repeat himself. “You heard me correctly. Gaius Octavius is Caesar’s principal heir. His other nephews Lucius Pinarius and Quintus Pedius get a pittance, at least in terms of proportion, though they'll still be wealthy men, but Caesar named Gaius Octavius not only his main heir, but adopted him as his son as well, so he inherits the name, which in some ways is more important.” Pollio smiled bitterly, “Though I doubt he’ll live long enough to make any use of it.”

I sat there, stunned, thinking that I just needed to learn not to expect anything to make sense so that I was not constantly having my head spin with all that kept happening. “Antonius will kill him,” I blurted the first thing that came into my head, and Pollio nodded in agreement.

“I expect so, and I can’t say that I blame him. I admire….admired,” Pollio amended, “Caesar a great deal, but I think he did a great wrong to Antonius in this. And I think that in naming Octavius as heir, he has guaranteed that Roman will be fighting Roman.”

Asinius Pollio was a good general. He was also a great scholar and a very wise man, one who was usually right about most things. In this, he was more right than he knew.

~ ~ ~ ~

While we were watching events in Rome, it was not as if there were not things going on in Hispania, courtesy of Sextus Pompey, who had managed to flee into the hills to gather together a group of die-hard Pompeians, but he was not much more than a nuisance. However, the fear was not what he could do at that moment, but that if he were allowed to go unchecked, he could gain strength and experience so that at some point in the future he became a formidable opponent. He was still in his teens, and he was smart enough to recruit men from areas that had been Pompeian strongholds for many years. One day I was called to the
praetorium
to see that there was a new face along with Pollio, and in thinking back, I do not know if I took an instant disliking to the man before he opened his mouth, but if not it was only moments after, when he did start speaking.

“Primus Pilus Pullus, this is Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. He'll be taking over command here, as he has been sent by the Senate to govern the province.”

Pollio’s tone was formal and correct, yet I had been around him long enough to know that he was not happy about this development. I turned to salute Lepidus, who I towered over by several inches, which was not unusual, but Lepidus was as narrow as he was short. He had little muscle on his frame, and a weak chin, which I have always found to be telling about a man’s character.

He returned my salute with what I could only describe as indifference, then turned back to Pollio as if I was not in the room. “As governor and commander of the province, duly appointed by the Senate, I command you to go in pursuit of the rebel Sextus Pompey immediately. In fact, I'm surprised that you haven't done so before this, and it makes me wonder about your loyalty.”

I could feel my mouth drop; this display of rudeness between members of the upper class, particularly in front of a subordinate, was something that I have never witnessed, before or since, but I learned everything I needed to know about Lepidus in that exchange with Pollio.

As for Pollio, his face turned purple with rage, though his voice was controlled, albeit just barely, his words clipped. “I can assure you, Governor, that I am as loyal a man as you'll find. Perhaps if you had spent much time in the field with Caesar, you would have been able to witness my loyalty firsthand, but I understand that Rome and its pleasures are hard to leave behind.”

Now it was Lepidus’ turn to splutter with rage, as he pointed a stubby little finger at Pollio and hissed, “I must remind you that you're speaking to a superior, in every way I might add. My birth and ancestors are impeccable, whereas you're nothing but an upstart and low-born at that.”

And there was the nub of it, why Lepidus’ name and deeds will only be a footnote in history. It was also why I and the other Centurions abandoned him later. As I said, he was a small man in every way, but he thought that he was a great man simply because of who he was and who his ancestors had been. Caesar’s ancestry and bloodline was every bit as illustrious as someone like Lepidus, yet Caesar valued competence and intelligence above all else. He had accomplished more than any man in Roman history because of his farsightedness and open acceptance of men such as Pollio, and in a much smaller sense, myself. Lepidus was blinded to the abilities in others if their birth was not as exalted as his, and I was witnessing firsthand why he was never more than an annoyance and a bit of a joke.