Marching With Caesar-Rise of Augustus Read online

  Also by R.W Peake

  Marching with Caesar-Conquest of Gaul

  Marching with Caesar-Civil War

  Marching with Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra, Parts I & II

  Critical praise for the Marching with Caesar series:

  "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

  Rise of Augustus

  By R.W. Peake

  Marching with Caesar –Rise of Augustus by R.W. Peake

  Copyright © 2013 by R.W. Peake

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover Artwork by Marina Shipova

  Cover Artwork Copyright © 2013 by R.W. Peake

  All maps reprinted from "The Roman Republic and The Founder of The Empire" by T. Rice-Holmes

  Oxford University Press; London, 1923

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  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.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2013

  Foreword

  As the career, and story, of Titus Pullus moves along towards its conclusion, it creates in me a unique mix of emotions. On the one hand, it's hugely gratifying to see so many readers take an interest in this story of a man from the ranks of the Legions of Rome, who, by an accident of birth finds himself living during the most tumultuous and impactful period of Roman history. Yet, on the other, it's probably no surprise that I've become extremely attached to Titus and all that he represents, but like all stories, we are nearing the end of his particular journey, so it will be hard to say goodbye nonetheless. And this, what will be the penultimate book in the Marching with Caesar that revolves around Titus, took me into largely uncharted territory, the nebulous world of what historians now call the Early Imperial period, at least as far as the Legions of Rome are concerned.

  I have made a point in my earlier books, and I think it bears repeating here, that the biggest problem I found in researching this part of the story is the dearth of sources, at least those that go into any level of detail about what are now called the Augustan Reforms. While there is an abundance of material that give scholars, enthusiasts, and authors a huge amount of details about the organization, training, and life in the Legions of Imperial Rome, starting later in the reign of Augustus, the same can't be said for the period of time when the reforms were taking shape. Just as the political landscape of Rome didn't change overnight, going through a long and gradual, albeit bloody, process, I believe that the same standard applies to the reforms that Augustus wrought on a Roman army that consisted of more than forty Legions, spread over the entire Republic.

  This is why some of the purists among my readers might experience a head-scratching moment or two as they think, "But wait. Camp Prefects didn't do that!" or "Tribunes were responsible for this!" However, just as the powers of the political office that we now call the Emperor of Rome evolved over the course of Augustus' long reign, I would argue that the same process applies to these reforms. Perhaps they didn't; maybe these reforms just appeared from within Augustus' prodigious brain exactly as they are now known, but not only would that be extremely unlikely in my opinion, it would make for a more boring story as far as Titus is concerned!

  That said, it's not strictly for narrative purposes that I meddle with Augustus' refinements to the Legions. Perhaps it's also because of my overall ambivalence towards the man himself that makes me loathe not to have some trial and error when it comes to his changes with the Legions, because although I can't deny his overall brilliance, the more I learn of the man, the less I like him. My personal feelings aside, creating this atmosphere of a state of flux, where the men of every level of Roman society are feeling their way along in what was inarguably a new Rome is a crucial aspect of Titus' story, in both the macro sense of Roman sociopolitical landscape, and the micro of Titus' own struggle to improve his lot in life.

  As far as I have been able to ascertain, there was no Army of Pannonia, at least not one with any formal name. And while Siscia (modern-day Sisak) was certainly a base for the Legions stationed in Pannonia, there's no source that I found that gives a definitive date for the creation of a depot there. It was used by the future emperor Tiberius as his base of operations in quelling the revolts that were a regular occurrence in the decades after the conquest of the province, so I took the liberty of establishing a Legion presence there perhaps earlier than actually happened. Also, the composition of this fictional Army of Pannonia is entirely my own invention; I have no idea which Legions were stationed in Siscia.

  Finally, thanks again go to my editor, Beth Lynne of BZHercules, for helping me get Titus' story into a coherent form and catching my many mistakes. Marina Shipova's outstanding cover art again helps tell Titus' story by making the statue of Augustus that is in the Museo Nazionale Romano come alive; I particularly like the look he's giving Titus! Also, to my team of advance readers; Joe Corso, Margaret Courtney, Jim Zipko, Stu MacPherson, and Ute St. Clair, a big thanks for their suggestions, comments and, most importantly, catching those mistakes that only true fans can spot! And as always, thanks to you, the readers for taking such an interest in Titus' story, and I hope you enjoy this part of his journey.

  R.W. Peake

  July, 2013

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1- Camp Prefect

  Chapter 2-Runo

  Chapter 3- Naissus

  Chapter 4-Bastarnae

  Chapter 5-The Getae

  Chapter 6-Ambush

  Chapter 7- The 13th

  Prologue

  Because of my status here in Arelate, my presence is expected on all major holidays and festivals, but very early on I disabused the duumviri of the idea of my participation in any of these that held religious connotations. I cannot say that it has not caused me some difficulties, but when I made a vow to stop asking the gods for their intercession and aid, very early in my tenure as Camp Prefect, I was serious about it.

  Unfortunately, some men are too thick and the duumviri did not know me well enough at the time to take me at my word, leading to an incident about which I still have some regret, even if they got what they deserved.

  It was for the festival of Quinquatrus, my first such since my arrival in Arelate. Despite Diocles' best attempts to convince the delegation of town elders that their mission was ill-conceived and doomed to failure, they insisted that they be led into my private study. This is my sanct
uary, my refuge, and only Diocles and Agis, my longest-serving companions and servants, are allowed entry. This is where I have dictated the story of my life, and I spend most of my time indoors and awake in this room, reading, and reflecting. I am proud of my library, but I also know that should other Romans of Arelate who are of the upper classes see my extensive collection of books it would cause me more trouble than any boost to my pride is worth. There's Pullus, I am sure they would say, putting on airs and getting ideas above his station, thinking that just because he has been elevated to the equestrian order, he is an equestrian, like us. And as I have learned, to many, perhaps most, of the upper classes, this makes me dangerous.

  Therefore, I was in a sour frame of mind, when Diocles returned after I had sent him to inform the delegation standing in the triclinium of my indisposition to visitors at that moment.

  "Titus, they won't take no for an answer," he told me. "They insist that you give them some of your time. They say it's important."

  "It better be," I grumbled, but rather than wear him out by sending him back and forth conducting an argument by proxy, I bade him to bring this group of pests to me.

  There were three; two of them I recognized on sight and had actually spoken to both on more than one occasion, while the third was unknown to me. Two were members of at least the equestrian class, while the third man wore the iron ring that told me he was of the Senatorial class. They were also sleek, well-fed, and expensively oiled and barbered, and the fact that they all wore togas told me that this was indeed an official visit of some sort. Standing, I greeted them with as much courtesy as my stewing anger allowed, which latter state they either ignored or weren't aware of, although that would change in the next few moments.

  "Salve, Prefect Titus Pullus, late of the Army of Pannonia," the man I assumed was the elected spokesman of the group greeted me.

  "Salve, Marcus Glabro," I replied, "and to what do I owe this unexpected surprise?"

  I was determined that while I would not be outright rude, I was not going to indulge these men by using words like 'pleasant'.

  "I believe you remember Quintus Claudius Varro?" Without waiting for me to answer, I assume because he could see that I did, he indicated the last man, the one wearing the ring, although his toga did not have a purple stripe, which I found odd. "And this is Gaius Valerius Marcellus."

  In something of a test, I ignored Glabro and Varro, but offered my hand to Marcellus first, and as I suspected he would, there was a brief hesitation on his part. It was just the barest fraction of an instant, but I am too old and experienced not to recognize the sign of a Roman who believes himself to be superior in any way, deigning to engage in a greeting where both men are equal. Also, as I suspected, when he did grasp my forearm, his arm was as smooth as the bottom of a baby, despite the fact that he was at least my age, if not a few years older.

  "Prefect Pullus, it is a pleasure and an honor to finally meet you," he intoned, making it clear that it was anything but what he had just described.

  Already tired of this banal dance, I was deliberately insulting, when I turned away and sat in the chair behind my desk, although I did not compound the affront by not asking them to take one of the stools on the opposite side. Diocles, who had been hovering in the background, caught my eye and when I glanced in his direction, he merely lifted an eyebrow in a silent question, to which I gave a brief nod. He disappeared to get wine, and I hoped that he would not bring back any of a decent vintage.

  "So you're not here for a chat, I presume," I began, "so perhaps you can tell me the purpose of your visit."

  I was somewhat surprised, when it was not the highest-ranking Roman who spoke first.

  "As you undoubtedly know, we're just a couple of days away from Quinquatrus," Glabro replied.

  When I said nothing, he seemed to get a bit flustered, but pressed on.

  "Yes, well, as I was saying, Quinquatrus approaches. And we," he indicated his companions, "are here to persuade you to grace the festival with your presence."

  "And why would you want me so badly?" I asked, although I suspected I knew the answer.

  "As you know, you're the highest ranking man from the Legions here in Arelate," Glabro explained, unnecessarily. "So it reflects well, not just on the city as a whole, but especially on that segment of our citizens who are also retired from the Legions."

  "And I'm sure you know why this is important," it was Varro who interjected this.

  I did, very well. A large segment of the men retired from the Legion in and around Arelate had found the transition to civilian life to be difficult. They quickly became bored with the mundane existence that is the lot of their civilian counterparts, and bored men, particularly Legionaries, tend to fill their time in ways of which the upstanding citizens of Arelate would not approve. This was especially true, because a fair number of those activities brought the former Legionaries into direct conflict with their fellow citizens. It was a situation that, even in the short time I had been in Arelate at that point, I could see was not only bad, but was getting worse. When I reflect on it, I would liken it to the way, once a wolf stalks and kills a sheep, he has only a taste for mutton. Once my fellow Legionaries discovered how comparatively soft the other residents of Arelate were, there was a small segment of them that took full advantage of this, terrorizing and intimidating others, mainly for the simple reason that they could. Considering the attitude with which Legionaries, even before they run rampant and are still under the standard, are regarded by many civilians, there was already a built-up hostility on the part of many men. I cannot recount the number of conversations I either overheard or was part of where this attitude of civilians towards Legionaries was discussed, so there was a lot of simmering anger already present when a man settled down. However, unlike most of the men, I distinctly remember the long conversation with my then-Secundus Pilus Prior Sextus Scribonius, the man I also count as my best and most trusted friend even now, when I was the Primus Pilus of what was known as the 10th Equestris. This was during the period of what is now known as the second civil war, in that early period, when the two men who became bitter adversaries were uneasily sharing power. We had been parked on the Campus Martius outside Rome, when this topic of civilians' hostility toward Legionaries had been brought up by one of the other Pili Priores. And it had been my wise friend who, in his quiet but effective way, presented the other side of the argument: how, because of all that we had done in our conquest of Gaul, a situation was created, where the section of the Forum Boarium that sold slaves was glutted, putting so many of the men of our class out of work. As he pointed out, it was not very realistic to think that men who could no longer feed their families, because there is no competing against a service or labor that is essentially free, would view us as anything but the cause of their own misery. It had not surprised me at all that this argument had fallen on deaf ears among the other Centurions, but it was something I remembered, even if other men did not.

  "I understand why you're concerned, but I'm not sure what this has to do with me," I countered.

  "Because of your reputation," Glabro said quietly, "and if you're seen participating in events like Quinquatrus, it will send a message to others of your," he fumbled for the word, "status."

  "Yes, it's as Glabro says," Varrus added, sitting forward on his stool to look at me with what I assume was his earnest expression. "If they see Titus Pullus, Prefect Titus Pullus, marching at the head of the procession, and participating in the rituals at the temple of Minerva, we think this would be a huge help in letting those men who are running wild right now know that they should be following your example."

  "While I appreciate your faith in me, I can't say that I share it," I told them frankly. "In fact, I'm almost positive that it won't have any impact at all."

  "But we must try," Glabro argued, and now there was no mistaking the pleading tone, which clearly disgusted Marcellus, who had been completely silent to this point.

  "I agree that you nee
d to try something," I shook my head, pretending that I was actually regretful, "but I don't believe that I'm the solution to your problem."

  That was obviously too much for Marcellus, who, with a snort of angry contempt, jumped to his feet, careful to arrange the folds of his toga before he deigned to address me, as if he was about to orate in the Senate.

  "I told these two this approach was a waste of time," Marcellus sneered down at the two, who looked suitably embarrassed, although I did not know if it was because of what he said or at Marcellus' outburst, in general. "I've dealt with you Legion types for too long to believe that such soft words would do anything but put you to sleep."

  Well, you have that much right, I thought, but I remained silent, just looking steadily at the man, wondering just how much of an idiot he would be, and how angry I would get.

  "Now, see here, Pullus," giving me the answer to at least the second question, "you need to be at this procession, that's true enough. But you also need to take a more active role in not just this festival, but all official holidays, as well. And," I suppose he was trying to intimidate me with his imperious stare, "you need to take matters into your own hands and get your Legionary...scum under control!"