Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part II

By R.W. Peake

In the sixteenth installment of the international bestselling Marching With Caesar series, with the death of Titus Porcinianus Pullus, Centurion Gnaeus Volusenus finally learns the truth, that not only was Pullus his superior but his natural father, turning his world upside down. By accepting the truth and adopting his true identity, Gnaeus Volusenianus Pullus must cope with all that comes with being a member of this extraordinary family.

Traveling to the Pullus home of Arelate to inter his father’s ashes with Diocles' son Alexandros, Gnaeus faces challenges that, while they are unlike anything he has faced under the standard, are no less deadly, and come from within his own new family.

Barely recovering from his trip to Arelate, Gnaeus returns to the 1st Legion, where Germanicus Julius Caesar leads Gnaeus and his comrades in another campaign, in which the Army of the Rhine will at last face the German chieftain Arminius and finish the task set for them by Rome’s new Emperor Tiberius, hopefully avenging the loss of Varus and his Legions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.W. Peake
• Release date: Jun 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781941226322

R.W. Peake

I am a 63 year old retired Infantry Marine, born and raised in Texas and currently living on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. I have been writing since my first novel, written at the age of 10, when my friends and yours truly fought off the Soviet hordes, who just happened to pick my block to launch their invasion. That was their big mistake.But like a lot of dreams, it got sidetracked until recently, when I decided to focus my passion on an era and subject that interested me a great deal. Like my characters in Ancient Rome, I have served as the pointy tip of the spear of our nation's policy, and it is with this perspective that I tell the story of Titus Pullus and his friends.Marching With Caesar-Birth of the 10th Legion was my first published novel, and is the first in a completed series that covers the career of Titus Pullus, his adopted son Gaius Porcinianus Pullus, grandson Titus Porcinianus Pullus, and his great-grandson Gnaeus Volusenianus Pullus. The most recent release is Volume XIX, Marching With Caesar-Catualda the Usurper.I also have a completed alternate history series, Caesar Ascending, that imagines a world in which Gaius Julius Caesar survives the Ides of March, embarks on his historical campaign against Parthian...then keeps going. Originally it's a bid to outstrip the Macedonian King Alexander by reaching the Ganges River, but evolves into a decade-long campaign that finds Caesar and his Legions marching to the end of the known world in the form of the mysterious Islands of Wa, modern-day Japan.Finally, in 2020, I began The Titus Chronicles, with Volume I titled Eagle and Wyvern, which tells the story of a descendant of Titus Pullus, (though he's unaware of any connection), named Titus of Cyssanbyrig, who at the age of fourteen answers the fyrd sounded by the Saxon King Alfred, marching with Alfred and his army to confront the Danish King Guthrum, culminating at the Battle of Edington. Blessed with the same prodigious size and strength as his ancestor, young Titus learns he is the recipient of a darker gift, and in his first battle earns the nickname The Berserker.The Titus Chronicles mark the first of an extended genealogy of the original Titus that will extend across the ages as the story of a line of men who have been born and bred for war, and are witnesses to some of the great historical events of the ages.

Book preview

Marching With Caesar – Avenging Varus, Part II

By R.W. Peake

Also by R.W Peake

Marching With Caesar® – Birth of the 10th

Marching With Caesar – Conquest of Gaul

Marching With Caesar – Civil War

Marching With Caesar – Antony and Cleopatra, Parts I & II

Marching With Caesar – Rise of Augustus

Marching With Caesar – Last Campaign

Marching With Caesar – Rebellion

Marching With Caesar – A New Era

Marching With Caesar – Pax Romana

Marching With Caesar – Fraternitas

Marching With Caesar – Vengeance

Marching With Caesar – Rise of Germanicus

Marching With Caesar – Revolt of the Legions

Marching With Caesar – Avenging Varus, Part I

Caesar Triumphant

Caesar Ascending – Invasion of Parthia

Caesar Ascending – Conquest of Parthia

Caesar Ascending – India

Critical praise for the Marching with Caesar series:

Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony

"Peake has become a master of depicting Roman military life and action, and in this latest novel he proves adept at evoking the subtleties of his characters, often with an understated humour and surprising pathos. Very highly recommended."

Marching With Caesar-Civil War

"Fans of the author will be delighted that Peake’s writing has gone from strength to strength in this, the second volume...Peake manages to portray Pullus and all his fellow soldiers with a marvelous feeling of reality quite apart from the star historical name... There’s history here, and character, and action enough for three novels, and all of it can be enjoyed even if readers haven’t seen the first volume yet. Very highly recommended."

~The Historical Novel Society

"The hinge of history pivoted on the career of Julius Caesar, as Rome’s Republic became an Empire, but the muscle to swing that gateway came from soldiers like Titus Pullus. What an amazing story from a student now become the master of historical fiction at its best."

~Professor Frank Holt, University of Houston

Marching With Caesar – Avenging Varus Part II by R.W. Peake

Copyright © 2019 by R.W. Peake

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Artwork Copyright © 2019 R. W. Peake

All Rights Reserved

To My Grand-dog, the Baroness Lulu Van Der Mullen

Long may she reign over the hearts

Of everyone who meets her

Foreword

Now that the elephant in the room in the form of the death of Titus Porcinianus Pullus has been revealed in Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I, I hope that you, my readers and fans, have at least partially forgiven me for making the decision to snip the strings of Titus the Younger’s story, and it’s my fervent hope that you will adopt Gnaeus Pullus as the heir to the mantle of the Pullus name and all that it means for Rome. Since Avenging Varus Part II is the continuation of the story started in the previous book, it also marks the continuation of the campaign conducted by Germanicus Julius Caesar against Arminius and his German confederation. Unlike a complete work of fiction, as an author of historical fiction who tries to hew as closely as possible to the historical record, I was unwilling and unable to create a better ending, at least of the kind we’ve learned to expect from Hollywood, where Germanicus and his army triumphs over Arminius, culminating with either the German being paraded through the streets of Rome like Vercingetorix, or barring that, his head prominently displayed for every Roman to see. In fact, when one is viewing these events with a dispassionate eye, an argument can be made that this epic struggle between Rome and what was a confederation of tribes, whose hatred for each other was only slightly less than their hatred of Rome, was more of a draw than a victory for Rome. Yes, Arminius was vanquished, and ultimately even his obvious charisma, ruthlessness, and cunning couldn’t overcome the relentless nature of Rome and its Legions, nor the hatred and jealousy of the other German chieftains, but if we could plumb the minds of men like Germanicus, Gnaeus Pullus, and his comrades, I’m fairly certain that we would find they were every bit as unsatisfied at this rather ignominious conclusion of an endeavor that had been so many years in the making. This is borne out by Germanicus’ willingness to risk the wrath of his adoptive father and the new Princeps Tiberius by initially arguing for yet another campaign season, but Tiberius pointedly refused. Why he did so one can only guess at; Tacitus did, speculating that the primary reason for Tiberius’ refusal to finish Arminius off was based in his fear that, by doing so, Germanicus’ popularity with not just the people of Rome, but most importantly, the eight battle-hardened Legions of the Army of the Rhenus would eclipse his own. While this is speculation, and Tacitus does display a certain level of bias against Tiberius, it is certainly plausible, especially given that Tiberius was still relatively new to the title of Imperator, but what seems implausible, at least to me, is that Germanicus would have ever sought to usurp his adoptive father. There is nothing in the historical record to suggest that he had designs on ascending to the title of Imperator, at least through any machinations of his own. As I said when I began this chapter of the Pullus saga with Rise of Germanicus, I think that Germanicus Julius Caesar is the most intriguing what if in the history of Rome, but just as it wasn’t in his destiny to bring about Arminius’ demise, neither was it to rule Rome.

Ultimately, however, this story is about one family, and the historical events in which they find themselves, while an integral part of the story, are a backdrop for their own history as the Pullus family adjusts to the new reality of their lives. Avenging Varus Part II is essentially the end of the beginning of a new generation, but in a sense, this is a very personal story for me as well. Like every author, I know that whether it is intentional or not, we inevitably endow our characters with pieces of ourselves, something that I am reminded of on a regular basis by those readers who also know me personally, when they say, That sounds like something you would do or I heard you say that once, but in this case, I knew as I was writing that I was personally connected to Gnaeus Pullus, because in a way, I am telling my own story.

Like Gnaeus Pullus, I didn’t know who my father was; not really, anyway. He died before I was born, and for reasons that I won’t go into, what I knew about him for the first two decades of my life could be summarized in one sentence. It wasn’t until I was twenty years old, when all I knew about my father was his name, where he was born, when he died, and thanks to my favorite baseball player Rusty Staub when he played for the Colt .45’s/Astros, that he had red hair, which I learned from my maternal grandmother when I saw my hero take off his baseball cap, that this changed, when I met my paternal aunt for the first time. Before that moment, I never felt as if I had anything in common with my mother’s side of the family. Part of that was geographical; I was the only Southern-born member of my family at that time, and while my immediate family was composed of professional classical musicians and teachers, I gravitated towards other pursuits, specifically the military. Physically, I didn’t resemble any members of my mother’s side of the family, and through no fault of their own, I never felt like I fit in, having almost nothing in common with them. Until, that is, the day I pulled up into a driveway in San Antonio, and met my Aunt Jackie, whose first reaction on seeing me was to burst into tears, something I didn’t truly understand until we entered her house, and for the first time, I saw a picture of my father. It was like looking in the mirror, especially because I was almost the same age at twenty as he was when he died, at twenty-one, and the picture had been taken shortly before his death. Over the course of the next few hours, I learned more, not just about my father but about myself, than I had learned over the course of two decades. Suddenly, everything fit, as I learned about my Scotch-Irish heritage and the deep roots in the mountains of northwestern North Carolina that extend back to the mid-18th century, my family’s tradition of military service, and more than anything, the same manner of thinking and outlook that, before that moment, I had no idea from where it came. It still serves as the most potent example of the power of blood, and even as I was writing this part of the Pullus story, I knew that I was writing as much about myself as about Gnaeus.

The one thing I didn’t have was a set of scrolls, but I was given several of my father’s letters that he had written to my aunt, along with some of his essays from his time in college, and while it was nowhere near enough, they did help me understand my father better, and in doing so, made me understand myself as well. In this sense, Gnaeus’ story is my own.

At the risk of sounding redundant, thanks goes once again to Beth Lynne for her keen eye and astute observations, in a partnership that has lasted through this, my twentieth book. Thanks also to Laura Prevost, who persevered through my fussing and fretting in producing this cover.

And again, thanks to you, my readers, especially for your response to Avenging Varus Part I and embracing the next generation of the Pullus line in Gnaeus; I hope you will continue to enjoy his story for some time to come.

Semper Fidelis,

R.W. Peake

June, 2019

Historical Notes

As always, I relied on Tacitus, Dio, Strabo, Paterculus, and a dash of Suetonius, but when it comes to describing tactics, terrain, and battles, Tacitus leaves much to be desired, and he is the most helpful of the ancient sources. Consequently, once more I relied on Lindsay Powell’s outstanding biography of Germanicus, Germanicus-The Magnificent Life and Mysterious Death of Rome’s Most Popular General, published by Pen & Sword Military in 2013, along with his later work, Roman Soldier Versus Germanic Warrior, part of the Combat Series by Osprey Publishing, published in 2014. The latter work was valuable because it adds a visual element that I found extremely helpful. Nevertheless, because of Tacitus’ aforementioned shortcomings, so much of what we know of Germanicus’ campaigns is speculation, both in terms of the specific locations of the various battles and events, but in the identities of specific Legions, with just a couple of exceptions. In the Battle of the Long Bridges, for example, Tacitus lists the Legions involved, which includes the 1st, while other instances, such as both the Battles of Idistaviso and the Angrivarian Wall, the composition of the front line Legions is a matter of conjecture. My placement of the 1st in relation to the other Legions in both these battles is purely my own, as is my location of the 15th and 16th Legions in Confluentes in the winter of 15-16 CE.

Equally frustrating to any author who strives to be as accurate in their descriptions of not just the participants but the terrain is the lack of information that would allow us to precisely locate these important events. There are several alternatives for almost every single battle, which forced me to be deliberately vague in describing the ground, which isn’t something I like to do. What we know is that, if Tacitus is to be believed, the site of Idistaviso was within a day’s march of the Angrivarian Wall, and that there was a river believed to be the modern Weser that played a prominent role in what would be the final battle between the armies of Germanicus and Arminius, but that is about as specific as it was possible to be.

While Tacitus is generally very complimentary of Germanicus Julius Caesar, he did level a criticism that, when one looks at it, is a valid one, and that is Germanicus’ decision to not only not sail farther up the Amisia (Ems) with the fleet carrying both supplies and troops, but to disembark those troops on the eastern bank of the river. Instead, he chose a spot barely a mile upriver from the mouth, and unloaded everything on the western bank, requiring his men to build a bridge across the river. It proved to be a costly error, at least for those Batavian auxiliaries that drowned trying to cross the river because of the sudden rising tide, but this wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last where not only Germanicus, but every Roman with command authority seemed to underestimate the power of the estuary tides in the region. In fact, while it’s impossible to know with any certainty, it seems clear that, if not the majority, then a substantial number of the losses incurred by Rome during this two year campaign was a direct result of Roman ineptitude in nautical matters. One can look to the fact that, both years, there was a major mishap with the Roman fleet, although they were sailing in coastal waters in between the Rhine and the Ems Rivers, which reinforces the truth that Romans were not natural seafarers.

Finally, on the Legate Lucius Seius Tubero, and Gnaeus’ mention that he was the brother of Lucius Aelius Sejanus; this comes from Paterculus, who makes an allusion to this fact, although it’s somewhat ambiguous, but I decided to include it.

My reasons for doing so will hopefully become apparent in the rest of Gnaeus’ story.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part I

Chapter One

When Gnaeus Pullus returned from his mother’s villa after having all that he had learned from the letter and will of Titus Porcinianus Pullus confirmed by Giulia, it was just before dawn. He was haggard and wanted nothing more than to lie down and get some sleep. Naturally, this meant that nothing of the kind happened, and his resulting foul mood that day was cause for some comment among the men of his new command in the Second Century, although it did not amount to more than soldiers’ grumbling. Alex had been gone only a third of a watch into Mogontiacum on his own errand to arrange a confrontation that he hoped would help quell the inevitable talk about Gnaeus Pullus’ paternity, falling asleep quickly on his return, although he leapt to his feet when Pullus entered the outer office, but the Centurion whispered that he would not be needed. The lamps in the outer office had been extinguished, so Alex was unable to clearly make out Pullus’ form as he crossed the office and entered his private quarters, yet there was something that nagged at him enough that he quickly dismissed the idea of a few more moments of sleep. He waited to see if the lamp that had been left alight in Pullus’ quarters was extinguished, the sign that the Centurion had decided to snatch some rest; when it remained lit, he got up, knocked, and entered at Pullus’ grunt, which he had already learned was his form of permission. Pullus had not undressed, although he had taken his baltea off and had clearly tossed it in the general direction of the frame but missed. Even in the week he had been his clerk, Alex had noticed with disapproval the careless way Gnaeus treated the various bits of his uniform, which he took as a vestige of his former life as an Equestrian, back when he never had to lift a finger to do anything for himself and there was always someone there to pick up after him. Which, he thought with rueful amusement, isn’t that much different now, since the task of applying a fresh coat of varnish would fall on his shoulders if contact with the floor had marred the finish. Despite this, he did not feel secure enough in his relationship with the young Centurion yet to chide him for his carelessness; hopefully, that would come in time. For his part, Pullus barely glanced up at Alex as he entered, choosing to stare at his desktop instead, clearly in some sort of mood.

Do you want to talk about it? Alex asked quietly, but Pullus shook his head, so he asked, Is there anything you need, Centurion?

When Pullus shook his head again, Alex turned to leave, and in doing so, performed a quick visual search of the spot under his cot, confirming that Pullus had not returned with the lone crate he had taken with him, which was what had nagged at him when he saw Pullus’ dark figure crossing the room.

Dismayed, he nevertheless decided against saying anything, but just as he reached the door, Pullus called out wearily, Wait. When Alex turned with an inquiring glance, he was expecting an order to bring the Centurion the remnants of the meal from the previous night to break his fast, but Pullus pointed to one of the stools in front of the desk and Alex complied, dropping onto it as Pullus said, I want to ask you a question.

Of course, Alex answered, albeit somewhat warily.

Did it ever occur to you that by accepting my adoption, I’d lose my status as an Equestrian? Pullus asked evenly, his voice giving nothing of his own feelings on the matter away.

This startled Alex, but he gave the reason for it by exclaiming, By Dis, no! It never crossed my mind. I mean, he amended hastily, I didn’t really think about it.

Neither did I, Pullus admitted ruefully. But, he gave a soft laugh, the gods know my mother did.

He said nothing else, so they sat in silence for a moment, which gave Alex time to think through the situation and realize, with some chagrin, that this should have been obvious, which was why Alex asked with what he believed was warranted caution, What are you going to do, Gnaeus?

Pullus looked at him in surprise, yet it was not for the reason Alex thought, because he answered without hesitation, I’m not going to do anything. At least, I’m not going to withdraw from my agreement.

Now it was Alex’s turn to visibly react, although it was more in disbelief as he stared at Pullus, certain that he had not heard correctly.

What are you saying? That you’re willing to become a member of the Head Count?

Yes, Pullus replied, again without any hesitation. Then, noticing Alex’s expression, he explained, If this had happened a couple years ago, even after my father and I had become…close, was the word he settled on, I probably would have turned it down. I would have been flattered, but no, he shook his head, I wouldn’t have accepted it. Although, he did grin at this, "if he’d made giving me his gladius a condition, I might have changed my mind."

Alex chuckled at this, then he asked quietly, So what changed?

That, Pullus admitted, is a good question, because honestly, when my mother brought it up, as I said, it was the first I ever thought about it. Shrugging, he allowed, I suppose that some of it is because he saved my life. Which, he added, is what my mother thinks is behind it, but it’s more than that. He paused, frowning in thought as he searched for the right way to put it, settling on, Maybe it’s just being exposed to these men and living in a world where a man’s value isn’t just measured by how much money he’s got has rubbed off. I’ve seen men with more honor and courage, and who are far cleverer than men of my class who have had every advantage and still are fucking idiots.

Alex considered this, but while he harbored suspicions that Pullus was withholding something, he simply said, As long as you’re sure you’re doing the right thing.

Not really, Pullus answered honestly. "But it just…feels right, somehow."

That all sounded fine to Alex, but, like Gnaeus, he was his father’s son, which was why he pointed out, I understand that’s how you feel about it today, but what happens when you have children?

Pullus surprised Alex by answering, I thought about that as I walked back to camp. And, while I can’t say I won’t change my mind and regret it later, what I realized is that if the gods wanted me to stay an Equestrian, they would make that idea seem more important than it does. But, he shrugged, "what I’ve been realizing over the last few days is that I’ve always been my father, my real father’s son, more than I’ve been Quintus Volusenus’. And, he finished with a rueful tone, my mother knew that long before I did."

Mothers, Alex agreed, usually do. That’s why my mother sent me with my uncle when I was only fifteen up here when he was transferred from Siscia, because she knew that I didn’t just want, but I needed to be tied to the Legions like my father was.

Their conversation was cut off then by the bucina announcing the official beginning of the day, and without being told, Alex got up to bring his Centurion his meal, leaving Pullus to silently feel sorry for himself at the prospect of another day with no sleep.

Unfortunately for Alex’s plans, Pullus did not have the chance to go back into town, as the Legate Caecina led Pullus’ Legion, along with the 5th, 20th, and 21st Legion out of Mogontiacum, marching north and bound for the lands of the Bructeri, with the mission of subduing them and preventing their reinforcement of Arminius and his Cherusci. As far as the 1st was concerned, affairs were still somewhat unsettled with the Third Cohort, and there was much speculation among men of every rank of whether or not Sacrovir would shift the Fifth up to the first line while moving the Third to the second, or even the third. From the perspective of the Centurions of the other first line Cohorts, the newly promoted Pilus Prior, Tiberius Pompilius, seemed competent enough, and it was true that, of all the Third on the day of the attack by Arminius, his Century acquitted itself better than any other in the Cohort; however, there was more than one man who thought that this was not much of a distinction. The truth was that, until there was another fight, there would be doubt about the Third, which was why Pullus was one of those who believed that it would be prudent to remove them from the front line. Not, he understood, that his opinion mattered, and he certainly was not going to bring it up with Vespillo. When it came to the new Quartus Pilus Prior, Pullus was far from alone in his bemusement that, rather than being, if not overjoyed, or at least satisfied that Vespillo had finally achieved what they all knew had been his goal in being named Pilus Prior, he seemed anything but happy. In Pullus’ view, Vespillo was in an even worse mood than when he had been thwarted in his ambitions, and his sour mood was inflicted on his subordinates, although none suffered more than Pullus. Everything he did with the Second Century, it seemed, was suspect in Vespillo’s eyes, and a day did not go by without some cutting comment aimed at him or his performance of his duties. Naturally, Pullus bore this with silence, at least in Vespillo’s presence, although Alex would always quickly learn of yet another slight, but Pullus’ hope that once the campaign began in earnest, the Pilus Prior would relent in his constant criticism quickly proved in vain. This was why, on the second night of the march after a day spent marching drag, which always made tempers raw, as soon as Alex made sure Pullus’ meal was prepared, he slipped away and made his way to the Second Cohort’s area and the Pilus Prior’s tent. As he hoped, Alex was immediately ushered in to Macer’s office, finding the Centurion and Lucco taking their meal together as they engaged in desultory conversation about the day’s march.

Macer grinned at Alex as he asked, "So how was a day of wading in cac for your Centurion? Is he in a good mood?"

What do you think? Alex muttered, dropping onto the other stool, ignoring his best friend who, like his Centurion, seemed inordinately pleased at the idea of the Fourth Cohort stuck behind the baggage train. Which, Alex would have cheerfully acknowledged, he would be doing had the situation been reversed, but since he needed to get back, he broached the subject immediately, informing Macer, But the reason I’m here is I need to talk to you about this situation between Vespillo and Gnaeus.

Macer’s grin faded, and he actually dropped the crust of bread on his plate as he muttered, Ah, yes. That. He regarded Alex for a heartbeat, then asked grimly, So it’s that bad?

It’s not just bad, Alex affirmed, it seems to be getting worse. And, at this, he leapt to his feet so that he could pace in frustration as he admitted, I can’t really understand why. We both know that Vespillo has wanted to be Pilus Prior, even before you came to the Cohort. And that was, what, nine years ago?

Closer to ten, Macer confirmed. But, yes, he’s wanted it for a long time.

So, Alex almost shouted this, why’s he so unhappy? And why is he after Gnaeus in particular?

Macer was sitting there watching the clerk pacing, and he realized he needed to tread carefully.

Are you saying that he’s treating Gnaeus differently from the other Centurions?

Alex stopped moving to consider the question, understanding there was significance by the manner in which Macer posed it.

No, he admitted, not differently, but it’s definitely a matter of degree. Thinking another heartbeat, he explained, If Vespillo makes some sort of comment to the other Centurions, he’s making three of the same kind to Gnaeus.

How is Pullus taking it? Macer asked.

So far, he’s managed to keep his mouth shut. But, Alex fretted, that’s actually part of the problem.

Oh? I’m not following.

I’ve been around Vespillo a long time, Alex explained, just as you have. And what’s the one thing that makes him stop needling someone?

When they stand up to him and give it right back, Macer answered without hesitation, knowing this was the truth because, several years earlier when Macer was a newly arrived paid man, his Optio had made that point to him.

And, Macer suddenly remembered, feeling a smile tugging at his lips at the memory, he had been reluctant to go along with the advice, until one day he lost his temper; from that day forward, Vespillo had treated Macer with what passed for respect. When Titus Pullus had been promoted to the Centurionate, Vespillo had avoided antagonizing him, at least for the most part, something that Macer’s former Optio never failed to point out with what he thought was an almost obscene amount of glee whenever he and Macer had talked about it. This time, however, was different, despite the fact that Gnaeus not only shared his father’s size and strength, and a growing reputation as a formidable man in a fight, because now Vespillo was a Pilus Prior.

This was what prompted Macer to give a slight groan as he realized, But Pullus can’t give it back, can he?

No, Alex replied grimly. And what I’m worried about is that, the longer Vespillo goes without getting some sort of reaction from Gnaeus, he’s going to start saying things that Gnaeus can’t ignore. And I know what he’s likely to start bringing up the longer he goes without giving Vespillo what he wants.

What have the others done? Lucco asked, which Alex recognized was a sensible question.

The same thing as Gnaeus for the most part, Alex answered, then he did grin. Although I did hear from Optio Closus that when Vespillo said something to Structus that got under his skin, Structus brought up a time when they were out in town and Vespillo bought a whore that turned out to be not exactly what he thought. He paused a beat, then said with a laugh, The way Structus put it, the whore’s cock was bigger than Vespillo’s.

Both Macer and Lucco erupted in laughter that lasted for several heartbeats, Alex’s friend actually doubling over and holding his stomach.

Finally, Macer wiped a tear away. By the gods, I’d forgotten about that. His mirth faded as he returned his attention to the larger problem. Unfortunately, even if Gnaeus had something like that to hold against him, now he could never use it because Vespillo is his direct superior. He fell silent for a span, then asked simply, What do you need me to do?

You need to talk to Vespillo, Alex answered immediately, since this was the reason that he had sought Macer out in the first place. Not only did you have to deal with him for all those years, now you’re his equal, and some men would say that a Secundus Pilus Prior outranks a Quartus Pilus Prior.

Macer understood that Alex was speaking the truth, as far as it went; there was certainly an unwritten rule that, in the labyrinthine chain of command between Pili Priores, the number of the Cohort mattered, but it had been Macer’s experience that this had always been put forth by those who were actually in lower numbered Cohorts, while it had been vigorously argued by men in higher numbered Cohorts. And, if he was being honest, one of the best things about having been moved up was that he did not have to deal with Numerius Vespillo.

I’ll talk to him before we march tomorrow, Macer told Alex, his mouth set in the kind of determined line that Alex recognized, which enabled him to leave with a bit of optimism.

Predictably, as Caecina’s column penetrated deeper into Germania, and they neared Bructeri lands, tensions rose, with the officers cracking down on talking on the march that they considered excessive, both because as usually happened, the men got too loud, and because a good story told by a comrade kept them distracted from their primary job of watching the underbrush for sign of an impending ambush. They were marching in armor already, Caecina having ordered it to be worn from the first day, although most men felt that it was more for symbolic reasons, but beginning the third day, the order was given that shields would be uncovered. This was the most potent sign to every man in the army that contact with the Bructeri, whose lands they were approaching from the southwest while a column led by Lucius Stertinius was approaching from the west, was imminent. On the fourth day from Mogontiacum, the 1st was the vanguard when, late in the day, they reached the Lupia, which marked the southern boundary of the Bructeri, and Caecina made the decision that, rather than crossing the river then erecting the camp, he would take advantage of the natural barrier of the river. To Pullus, and most of the other officers, for that matter, this was sending the wrong message, not to the Bructeri, but to their own men.

"It’s telling those cunni that we’re afraid of them, at least that’s how my boys see it, Structus declared as he, Pullus, and Gillo stood watching their Centuries working on shaking out the picket stakes that had been gathered from their comrades. I thought we were here to put them to the gladius and make them sorry they ever threw in with Arminius. What kind of message does this send?"

While Pullus agreed in spirit, he was not nearly as concerned that this would have much impact one way or another, but he held his counsel, leaving Gillo to commiserate, but it was not long before, glancing over his shoulder, Pullus’ former Optio changed the subject.

"Maybe once we get stuck in to these bastards, the Pilus Prior will get his vitus out of his ass."

The manner in which he said it made Pullus believe that Gillo was hopeful but not optimistic that this would occur, while just the subject of Vespillo caused a sudden tightening in his stomach, and before he could stop himself, he replied bitterly, I fucking doubt it. He’s only happy when he’s unhappy.

Structus gave the large Centurion a sympathetic glance as he commented, Yes, he’s been riding you harder than the rest of us, that’s certain. Why do you suppose that is?

Before Pullus could reply, Gillo interjected, It’s because Pullus took over his Century, and he’s worried that Saloninus or maybe Herennius, he named the Tesseraurius, will tell Pullus his secrets.

Although this had been suggested before, Pullus felt that, while this was certainly part of it, there was more to Vespillo’s animosity than just his fear that either man, or even a ranker who might have knowledge, would impart that to him. He had spent a good deal of time thinking about it, and he had almost convinced himself that Vespillo’s hatred had as much to do with his father as with him.

Rather than mention this, instead, he chose to joke, Does that mean I need to worry about my old Optio telling tales?

Gillo grinned up at him. If I had anything, I would have already used it. But you were fucking boring as a Centurion.

This prompted a laugh from both Structus and Pullus, and they returned their attention back to the men.

"Oy!" Gillo suddenly bellowed, pointing his vitus at a pair of rankers that Pullus knew very well, two of the more accomplished shirkers from his time in the Sixth. If you two don’t get back to fucking work, I’ll stripe you so bloody that you’ll be begging those fucking Germans to put you out of your misery!

While both Structus and Pullus were looking on with expressions that signaled their solidarity with Gillo, once they turned away, all three were grinning broadly, and Pullus chuckled. I’m just glad they’re your problem now and not mine.

The task of placing the picket stakes in the 1st’s section of the camp was completed shortly after this, whereupon the men were marched to their areas, the slaves having erected the tents and started the fires. Before any of the Centurions had the opportunity for their meal, however, the cornu at the praetorium sounded the signal that indicated all Centurions were to come to the forum, which meant Pullus in particular was in a foul mood; he lived in a state of almost constant hunger, so meals were even more important to him than most men, and the prospect of whatever it was the Legate had decided to share barely mattered to him. It also meant that he was not in a particularly sociable frame of mind, although as normally happened, he walked with the other five Centurions towards the forum. Such was his distraction, he missed Cornutus calling him by name, but he did not miss Vespillo’s voice, with its nasal quality that, to his ears, made it sound like his Pilus Prior was always whining.

Don’t waste your time, Cornutus. His head is in the clouds, Vespillo called out, more loudly than necessary so that the other groups of Centurions who were using the Porta Praetoria to make their way to the forum looked over. He’s probably busy counting his new Tata’s money and figuring out how much he’ll need to pay to cash out of the Legion so he can run off to that villa in Arelate and fuck his new slaves.

It was only because Gillo reacted more quickly than Pullus, grabbing his former Centurion by the back of his harness, that saved Pullus, and while it almost jerked Gillo off his feet in doing so, it was enough to not only arrest the big man’s motion, it served to yank him from the precipice of his rage. From Gillo’s perspective, at least judging by the look of fury that Pullus gave him, it was not particularly appreciated, while Vespillo tried to pretend that his own sudden lurch away from Pullus was due to clumsiness and not fear, although the expression on his face gave the lie to that. It did serve to quell any talk, the final few dozen paces covered in silence as they stopped a short distance away from the portable rostrum. In meetings like this, there was not a formation as such, although the officers of each Legion congregated together, with the Centurions from each Cohort tending to stand with each other, but this was not required, and Pullus wasted no time in separating himself from his Cohort to head towards Macer and his Centurions of the Second.

Before he did, however, he leaned down to mutter in Gillo’s ear, Thank you for that. I’d have fucked myself good and proper.

No worries, Gillo replied instantly, but he did not move his head or indicate that he was addressing Pullus. We’ve got to stick together against that devious bastard.

What do you suppose he’s up to? Pullus asked, but Gillo could only shrug, then Pullus wandered off as the last of the officers arrived from the various parts of the camp.

When he came and stood next to Macer, he whispered what had happened, prompting a groan from Macer, which Pullus mistook as irritation at Pullus, but then Macer said, Pluto’s cock, I apologize, Gnaeus.

Pullus, mystified, asked, What are you apologizing for? You didn’t say anything; that bas…the Pilus Prior did.

Macer shot him a warning glare, but he saw that it was unnecessary.

He was silent for a heartbeat, then explained, I’m apologizing because I promised Alex that I’d talk to Vespillo, but I had an emergency with the Third Century, and after that, it slipped my mind.

Alex? Pullus frowned in confusion. What’s he got to do with this?

Before Macer could reply, the flap of the praetorium was thrust aside, and Caecina, still in his armor like his officers, strode through the opening, followed by the complement of Tribunes, all twenty-four of them, six for each Legion and most of whom had as little to do with the Centurions as possible, an arrangement that perfectly suited the Centurions.

I’ll explain after we’re done here, Macer said, then they both watched as Caecina ascended the steps to the rostrum.

Centurions! he began, his voice at a lower volume than he would need if he were addressing the entire army. I have called you here to let you know what our specific mission is, and what you can expect to be facing once we cross the Lupia tomorrow. Suddenly, he held up an admonishing hand, and continued, Now, I am not deaf. I know that many of you disagree with my decision not to cross the river today. Like most men trained in oratory, his head was moving as he scanned the two hundred forty Centurions, and it was just coincidence that he was looking in the direction of the 1st, yet it still made Pullus feel somewhat uncomfortable. However, the reason for this is not what some of you may believe it to be, that it was because I wanted the river as a line of defense. Caecina paused to shake his head, trying, to Pullus’ eye, to appear as if he was injured by this, then he continued, "The truth is that timing is important to the success of this endeavor, because while you all know that Lucius Stertinius is leading his men into the same lands where we are heading from the west, what I am telling you now is that the Propraetor has decided that his attack from the north will not be by crossing the river at Vetera as originally planned. The Legate did not appear surprised that this created a buzz among the Centurions, who muttered their thoughts to their comrades, but when he raised his hand, they fell instantly silent, which allowed Caecina to continue, Instead, he is conducting an amphibious assault by sailing with his army using the canal made by his father that leads into the Lacus Flavus, then sailing across the Lacus to reach the mouth of the Amisia. He will be leading his army south along the river while we are marching north, and the auxiliaries of Stertinius will be approaching from the west. It has taken some time to gather a fleet capable of transporting the Propraetor’s part of the army, and I received a dispatch yesterday that that fleet sailed three days ago. Germanicus’ orders are to give his men five days, four to travel the distance, then a fifth to land and organize. He paused again, except this time, it was not because the Centurions were making any kind of noise; they were all listening intently, understanding that they were about to learn the details of what would be expected of them and their men. Instead, he actually consulted the wax tablet that had been tucked into his sash, scanning the lines to refresh his memory. Raising his head, he continued, This is not being done with any secrecy; in fact, it’s part of the plan formulated by the Propraetor. He wants Arminius and his barbarian scum to know that, at last, Rome has come for them, and from more than one direction! This did elicit a reaction in the form of a spontaneous roar of approval, and Pullus’ voice was joined with his comrades. Once the clamor died, Caecina went on, I made the decision to stop for the day earlier than normal, not because I wanted the Lupia as a barrier, but to allow for a bit of extra time for Germanicus and his troops to land and get organized. We, his voice rose in volume now, and he raised both hands, one of them formed into a fist, which he smashed into his other hand as he declared, are going to crush anyone who chooses to stand and fight us, starting with the Bructeri! Once more, the Centurions began bellowing their collective promise, while Caecina lifted his hands to the heavens as he shouted to be heard. I swear this before Mars, Bellona, and Jupiter Optimus Maximus! We will avenge Varus!"

With this, and with the tumult continuing, Caecina spun about with enough force that it made his paludamentum flare out behind him, and Pullus experienced a stab of unexpected pain when, unbidden, the memory that it had been his father who had first pointed this out to him, that this was done for effect by men of Caecina’s status, leapt into his mind. The Legate’s return into the headquarters tent was the signal to disperse, prompting the men to begin drifting back to their Legions, talking about what they had just learned from Caecina, with debates among small groups immediately erupting about the wisdom of Germanicus’ bold maneuver. However, while Pullus was as interested as any other Centurion, he was more concerned with continuing the conversation with Macer, who had stopped to talk with Sacrovir, and he drifted a few paces away so that the Primus Pilus could not accuse him of trying to overhear whatever the pair were discussing. He did not look in their direction, choosing to wave off Gillo when his former Optio beckoned to him to join their comrades on the walk back to their area, but he could see that, even as the Primus Pilus talked to Macer, Sacrovir’s eyes were on Pullus, which was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Finally, Macer saluted, then walked over to him, and his delay meant that the Centurions of the Second Cohort had moved along as well, leaving the two of them relatively alone.

I don’t suppose you’d tell me what you two were talking about. Pullus said this jokingly, but he was surprised when Macer did not immediately demur or make a barbed comment about Centurions who needed to mind their own business.

Instead, he replied, Normally, I wouldn’t, but it was about you, and he didn’t swear me to secrecy, so I suppose I can tell you. Pullus did not know how to respond, so he said nothing, causing Macer to cast an amused glance up at him, although he only said, He was asking how I thought you were holding up with all these new changes to your life.

Pullus’ first reaction was a disbelieving snort. What? he scoffed. The Primus Pilus is worried about me? Why?

Because he’s not blind, and he’s not stupid, Gnaeus, Macer answered quietly. He’s heard that Vespillo is riding you harder than the others. And, at this, he seemed to hesitate, he’s not unsympathetic to your situation about your adoption.

Pullus slowed, and his voice went cold as he stared down at Macer, whose head, as it had with his father, came up to his shoulder.

My… ‘situation’? What do you mean by that?

To his credit, Macer did not flinch, nor did he hesitate in his reply. I think you know what I mean, Gnaeus. Remember, he reminded Pullus, your father was my best friend. We didn’t have many secrets.

Pullus felt the flush, while his ears felt especially hot, and he was unaware that this was a trait he shared with his deceased uncle Sextus, but the cause was from the sense of shame that prompted him to say, You’re right, Pilus Prior. I apologize. Sighing, he admitted, I suppose that Vespillo’s just made me especially touchy about it. But, he turned back to regard Macer evenly, that doesn’t explain why Sacrovir is so interested. I thought he hated my father.

Macer waved his hand, assuring Pullus, No need to apologize, Gnaeus. He paused, mainly because three Centurions, walking more quickly than the pair, were passing by within earshot, before he continued, As far as Sacrovir, I don’t think he hated your father at all. I think he was intimidated by him, but, he chuckled, who wasn’t? No, he shook his head, I think that he knew that, if the gods were just, your father would have been in his posting and not him. And, he added, "I think that’s what bothered him about your father. He knew he didn’t measure up when compared to Titus Pullus. But, Macer held his hands up in a helpless gesture, none of us did…except for you."

This brought Pullus to a stop, and he stared down at Macer, searching the man’s face in the fading light, but there was no sign of anything other than sincere concern in the Pilus Prior’s face, and it ignited in Pullus a decidedly queer feeling.

What are you saying, Pilus Prior? he asked, but Macer gave him a scornfully amused look, and he countered, I think you know exactly what I’m saying. Taking a quick glance around, Macer nevertheless lowered his voice as he went on, The one thing that your father lacked was a powerful patron who was willing to stick his neck out for him when it was needed.

But what about… Pullus mimicked Macer’s action of a couple heartbeats before, looking around before he continued, …Tiberius? I thought my father…worked for him, he finished uncomfortably.

He did, Macer replied, then amended, At least, that’s what I believe. Your father never said a word about it, and it was one of the few secrets between us, but I saw enough to be fairly certain. But, Macer lowered his voice even further, Tiberius isn’t, or wasn’t the type of patron who would be willing to take any kind of risk, especially when Divus Augustus was alive. And, I don’t know if you’re aware of your family, your real family’s problems with Divus Augustus, but while I don’t condone it, I can see why Tiberius would have been cautious.

I know a little bit, Pullus admitted, but no details. Only that Prefect Pullus was elevated to my… Suddenly, he felt a stab of something that might have been regret that caused him to add a word in mid-sentence. "…former status as an Equestrian, but that it didn’t transfer to my grandfather, and I know that Augustus had something to do with it, but that’s all."

That’s about what I know, Macer admitted. But what’s important is that this is why Tiberius didn’t do anything to help your father’s career. Suddenly, Macer became more animated, pointing at Pullus as he said, But Tiberius isn’t Germanicus. And you have Germanicus as a patron.

Pullus stared at Macer, dumbfounded, and he demanded, How do you know this?

Because your father told me that he intended to talk to Germanicus about you, Macer replied calmly.

Not surprisingly, Pullus had no idea how to respond to this, at least for the span of several heartbeats; finally, he managed to say miserably, Well, even if he did, the Pilus Prior is doing his best to make sure that it won’t matter.

Which, Macer’s face was grim, is why I’m going to be talking to Vespillo.

Do you think it will do any good?

Pullus tried not to sound anxious, but Macer was not fooled, and he gave Pullus a reassuring smile, Remember, he was my Pilus Posterior for a long time. Trust me, Gnaeus, I know how to handle Numerius Vespillo.

The pair parted when they reached the Second Cohort area, his counterparts in the Fourth having gone ahead, leaving Pullus to walk on, alone with his thoughts, something that he actually treasured at this moment. There is, he mused, so much to think about, but he was acutely aware that he could not allow the distraction created by his personal situation to interfere with his duties, especially with a Century of men with whom he was still relatively unfamiliar. Everything that was so important to him personally, he understood, had nothing to do with his job of making sure that his men acquitted themselves in a manner befitting a Legion of Rome in general, and the 1st in particular, in whatever was to come. Nor did it play a role in what was, while secondary, still vitally important, and that was to do whatever he could do to bring as many of his men back across the Rhenus as he could. His mind was occupied with these thoughts to such an extent that it was not until he was almost even with the Pilus Prior’s tent that he noticed that, while Vespillo was mostly unseen, he could see that the Pilus Prior was standing just inside his tent, peering through the gap in the flaps, and despite the fact that Pullus could only clearly see one eye, while the rest of his face was in shadow, he recognized that it belonged to the Pilus Prior. This was disturbing enough; it was the expression in that eye that was so unsettling, a look of such malevolent hatred that it ignited a queer sensation in Pullus’ stomach, but now that he had glanced in that direction and their eyes had met, he refused to look away, nor did he stop walking, and he waited for Vespillo to either emerge or call his name, but within a couple of paces, the moment was over. Am I going to have to spend my time trying to keep my men from being killed while watching my back at the same time? he wondered. The hostility in the Pilus Prior’s gaze was certainly unsettling, but by the time he reached his own tent, Gnaeus Pullus had done his best to put that in a compartment of his mind so that his attention was focused on what really mattered, the men of the Second Century; he owed his father that much.

Whatever worries Gnaeus Pullus, who was just becoming accustomed to his new name, had about his Pilus Prior Numerius Vespillo, they were shoved to the back of his mind when the army broke camp and crossed the Lupia, officially entering Bructeri lands. This move occurred two days after Caecina’s meeting with the Centurions, whereupon his part of the army began carrying out their part of a three-pronged assault planned by Germanicus, the objective of which was the final defeat of Arminius and his confederation of tribes. The initial task assigned to Caecina’s force was to march through the lands of the Bructeri, with the dual purpose of laying waste to their lands, and to subjugate the people. However, despite the belief of the entire army that some sort of confrontation was imminent, the first of the Bructeri villages they came across were not only deserted, but the fleeing tribespeople had chosen to torch their homes rather than leave them.

I don’t know about you, boys, Pullus had called out to his Century when they approached the second village and saw several columns of smoke streaming into the sky, "but I’m happy these Bructeri cunni are making our jobs easier!"

The men cheered, not with much enthusiasm, but Pullus knew why, since the fact that the Bructeri were doing it on their own meant that any chance of finding valuables was seriously diminished. Nevertheless, there was one advantage, because it made matters easier for Caecina to follow the fleeing Bructeri, and fairly quickly, it became clear that their retreat was taking them to the northwest. And, as Pullus quickly learned, what lay in that direction was the Teutoberg. This quickly became the dominant topic of conversation, albeit in muttered snatches of conversation, conducted in a tone low enough to avoid feeling the vitus across the back of the legs or on the arms, the only vulnerable spots for armored Legionaries on the march. As understandable as it was that this would be what the men were concerned with, like the other Centurions, Pullus was also aware that it would not profit any of them to allow those men who seemed to thrive on spreading fear by recalling the lurid details of Varus’ demise to continue unabated. To that end, he concentrated his efforts on listening carefully and leaving his normal spot to essentially move around the formation as they marched, trying to catch such men, which meant, within moments, he was huffing and puffing from the effort of trotting around his Century. He was at a further disadvantage; if it had been the Sixth, he would have simply gone to each of the men he knew shared this habit, and with a few preemptive whacks with the vitus, would have nipped the problem in the bud. With this new Century, however, he was not sufficiently familiar with the rankers, although he had already gotten a pretty good idea of who were shirkers or malingerers, but he still had not identified the doomsayers. He suspected that this attempt to catch someone was a forlorn hope; just by virtue of his size, it was next to impossible for him to surprise anyone with his presence, so despite his best efforts, he only caught snatches of whispered conversations that he felt certain were about the perils of the Teutoberg but could not prove. At least, he thought with a sense of sour amusement after he gave up and trotted back to his spot in the column, it passed the time. Shortly before midday, the army arrived at a Bructeri village that, while deserted of its inhabitants like the others, it was obvious that their flight had been hastier, the evidence of this in the form of smoke rising from the holes of several huts, along with discarded implements out in the two large fields that bordered the village from the side that Caecina’s army was approaching. The 1st was not marching drag, but they were third in the column, which meant that by the time they arrived, the village had been stripped clean, with every one of the usual hiding spots searched, while the fortunate men who arrived first used their javelins or their gladii to pull apart the hearthstones, scattering the embers in those huts where the fire was still going, unearthing the small bags of coins or jewelry normally secreted in such locations. What it meant in a practical sense was that when Pullus led his Century through the village, using the churned mud strip that passed for a street, several of the huts were already ablaze, the heat from them causing men to recoil as they passed by. It would be up to the 5th, marching drag that day, to finish torching the village, while the 20th had been given the task of despoiling the two fields on the southern side of the village. Since the 21st had the vanguard, they not only had the chance to ransack the village, they were given the job of doing the same to the fields on the northern side.

Looks like everyone but us has some work to do, boys! Pullus called out, although all he was saying was a variation of the same sort of thing the other Centurions of the 1st were telling their own Centuries.

It was a small thing, as every Centurion knew, but the idea of their comrades performing some sort of labors while they got to stand there watching never failed to improve the mood of men under the standard. Inevitably, it meant that as the 1st waited for the 21st and 20th to finish the job of uprooting the crops that were fully grown and within a few weeks of being ready for harvest, bundle them up, then carry them into the village to throw into one of the burning huts, they passed the time by shouting invective at men they knew, at least by sight. Equally inevitable were the men of the 21st responding with jeers of their own, but the more potent power to insult lay with the men who held up leather pouches that, presumably, had been located somewhere in the village not long before. As far as Pullus and most of the Centurions were concerned, if this meant their minds were off the Teutoberg, it was worth all the shouting and threats that were being thrown back and forth.

Thank the gods for Arminius, Pullus commented to Saloninus, the pair standing there observing, amused but alert, both of them knowing that it would not take much for matters to escalate.

Saloninus looked up at his new Centurion in surprise; he was still getting to know Pullus, and he asked, Why by Pluto’s balls would you say that, Centurion?

Pullus laughed, pointing with his vitus as he explained, Because if it wasn’t for that bastard, what do you suppose our boys and the boys in the 21st would be doing right now? Remember what happened between us and the 15th?

That, Saloninus understood immediately, was nothing more than the truth, and he acknowledged as much; still, he thought it was something strange for a Centurion to say. And, the Optio actually glanced

Reviews for Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part II

[George B Coley · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another excellent chapter in the Pullus saga....hope there are many more......