Marching With Caesar-Rise of Germanicus Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Foreword

  Historical Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Marching with Caesar – Rise of Germanicus

  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

  Caesar Ascending - Invasion of Parthia

  Caesar Triumphant

  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 – Rise of Germanicus by R.W. Peake

  Copyright © 2016 by R.W. Peake

  Smashwords Edition

  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 Art by Marina Shipova

  Cover Artwork Copyright © 2016 R. W. Peake

  All Rights Reserved

  Foreword

  No matter what an author has in mind when they start a new project, it rarely, if ever, goes as planned, and this is certainly the case with what, in the beginning, was going to be one book but has now become Marching With Caesar®-Vengeance and this, Volume XIII, Marching With Caesar-Rise of Germanicus. Oh, when I sat down and began, it was straightforward enough; I was finally at a point where I could begin exploring the life of Germanicus Julius Caesar, something I had been looking forward to for some time, but what I quickly realized is that, if I went directly to young Germanicus, I would be shortchanging my own character’s story. Since, from the outset, I have tried to write this series with an eye towards it being as authentic as possible, I could not justify giving Titus II, as I call him, short shrift. And, honestly, since this is a first-person narrative, it was highly unlikely that he would just skip over a huge chunk of his own life, particularly the period that saw the death of his beloved brother, just to get to Germanicus.

  However, as is wont to happen, that part of the story developed and took on a life of its own, leaving me with a choice of either condensing this part of the story, or not exploring Germanicus and his role in the Batonian Revolt in a manner that I found acceptable. So, as I tend to do, I chose both, although I will say that I felt some trepidation at the release of Vengeance, since it’s “only” 136K words, which, as you readers know, is far short of my norm.

  Which brings us to this book, Rise of Germanicus, and before I go any farther, I want to take this time to simultaneously thank, and tout, Lindsay Powell, for his stellar work, Germanicus-The Magnificent Life and Mysterious Death of Rome’s Most Popular General, published by Pen & Sword. As always, I try to rely on the primary sources, but I found his work informative and extremely helpful in filling in the larger picture of the Pannonian uprising, about which I knew very little detail before beginning this book. Perhaps the only real advantage I had was in my familiarity with the terrain, since this has been the setting for most of the Titus II story, but it also elicits something of a confession.

  I would like to say that setting the stage by using the Maezaei tribe as Sextus’ killers, and the subsequent drama that played out was part of a master plan that brings Titus full circle when he is marching with Germanicus…but that simply isn’t the case. When I wrote the scene that begins Vengeance, I had yet to dive into the Batonian Revolt, so you can imagine my surprise when, once I got to Dio and the other sources I used, I saw that it was the same Maezaei tribe that Germanicus was sent to subdue. Honestly, normally, I would agree that this is a happy accident, except this is not the first time that something like this has happened, and perhaps I am pushing my luck, but I would like to think this is a sign, or even a blessing from the old gods as I continue to tell the story of the Pullus family, whether they be marching with Caesar, Tiberius, or Germanicus.

  As always, I want to thank my editor Beth Lynne, particularly for the quick turnaround on this, since, through nobody’s fault but my own, I overshot my promised release date by what will be more than three weeks, which is something of a rarity for me. Also, to Marina Shipova for once again bearing with me as I try to communicate what’s in my head into a workable cover. And, one note about the cover; the depiction of Germanicus is taken from a combination of the extant busts of his likeness, but it’s his cuirass in particular that is a copy of that found in the only full-size rendering of Germanicus in full armor, the one in Perugia, Italy.

  R.W. Peake

  August 18, 2016

  Historical Note

  Back when I realized that what has now become the Marching With Caesar® series would be extending past just the life of the first Titus Pullus, there were two specific areas I was extremely interested in covering, and this, Marching with Caesar-Rise of Germanicus, is the first. I have long been fascinated with Germanicus Julius Caesar, and I think he is probably the most intriguing “What If” figure, behind the man whose name he took, of course, in Roman history. What if he had survived; would he have succeeded Tiberius, instead of Germanicus’ son? If so, would he have been corrupted by the power the way Tiberius was in the latter part of his reign? And, maybe most importantly, would he have realized that his son, “Little Boots,” was as crazy as a latrine rat and found someone else as a successor? Who knows, maybe one day I’ll do something similar with Germanicus that I did in the Caesar Triumphant series; the possibilities, as they say, are endless. Having said that, there are a few things I would like to point out, clarify, or beg the indulgence of readers for a deviation from the record, and I suppose I’ll start with the last one first.

  The revolt in Pannonia, referred to by the Romans as the Batonian revolt because of the two leaders sharing the same name, lasted from 6 to 9 A.D. Germanicus arrived with a levy of troops consisting of “free-born citizens” and “freedmen, including those whom he had freed from slavery,” according to Dio, the “he” being Augustus, in early 7 A.D. Both for dramatic purpo
ses, and based on what I hope is not an unfounded assumption, I have Germanicus spending most of that year involved in the further recruitment and training of what I called the Germanicus Legion in the book. According to Dio, the campaign against the Maezaei started somewhere around the end of 7; I have postponed it a matter of a few months, and for that I beg the indulgence of the reader.

  Another possible change is the composition of the town of Raetinium, about which little is known; in my story, it starts out as a Roman settlement before being taken by the Maezaei. My reasoning is not just for convenience, but in the name, which aligns with the Roman naming convention for their cities and towns, not with that used by the Pannonian tribes. As far as the locations, Splonum was located roughly where the village of Sanski Most, Bosnia-Herzegovina is located, at 44.843597N, 16.699712E; as nearly as I can determine, the location of where the Barrington Atlas places the iron mines that were the source of Maezaei wealth is around the village of Risovac, Bosnia-Herzegovina, 44°43′30″N 16°13′30″E.

  Raetinium’s precise location is a mystery, but again, using a combination of Barrington, and “walking the ground” by using Google Earth, I have placed it very near the city of Bihac, Bosnia-Herzegovina, 44.816667N, 15.866667E, but on the eastern side of the Una (ancient Oenus) river, which I did not do arbitrarily. When Dio describes the horrific scene of the fall of Raetinium, he describes the Maezaei retiring to the citadel, then assailing the Romans “from above,” which I took literally. Using this as a reference, I found one location where there would be a flat area, in the middle of which is a small hill that would be exactly the kind of place that anyone with an eye to defense would place their strongpoint. The actual boundaries of the town, specifically my placement of the walls on the western side of the river, is strictly my own invention.

  Readers well versed in their history may also notice there is one serious omission for anyone who expects a strict adherence to the historical record, and this involves Dio’s story about how Splonum fell. Specifically, the idea that, after being unable to make any headway conducting a siege that “Pusio, a German horseman, hurled a stone against the wall and so shook the parapet that it immediately fell and dragged down with it a man who was leaning against it…” and this was what it took to conquer a town is, frankly, something I don’t buy at all. To me, it smacks of propaganda, or at the very least, an “urban myth” that Dio used simply because it was easier than trying to determine the truth of the matter. The upshot is that, for those of you looking for Pusio, the Olympic champion stone thrower, you will be disappointed.

  What readers may have more of an issue with is the manner in which I characterize the relationship between Tiberius and Germanicus; however, while I do not go along with the theory that Germanicus was poisoned by Piso on the direct, or even indirect order of Tiberius, I do think that Tiberius at the very least viewed Germanicus as a rival.

  Essentially, my opinion on Tiberius is that he was one of the most conflicted figures in Roman history. On one hand, he seemed to want all of the prestige, power, and accolades that came with being close to the Princeps, while on the other, my sense is that he loathed himself for that desire for acknowledgment and acceptance. I would point to him as an example of the kind of schizophrenia that haunted more than one of the upper classes of Rome, where one was supposed to aspire to achieve great things, but do so for the advancement of Rome, not the individual. And, being frank, there were more than enough examples of the dangers of what happened when a Roman in the age of Augustus overstepped the limits of what the Princeps deemed acceptable ambition, so it is understandable how this could be, if not confusing, then at least unclear to someone like Tiberius, trying to determine where the line was located. Also, in previous books, I have advanced the idea, through my characters, that Livia was also a powerful influence, albeit behind the scenes, since even today, men are at the least ambivalent about being seen as under the power of their mothers, no matter how ambitious or connected the woman may have been themselves. Putting it in its simplest terms, I think Tiberius was probably the unhappiest man in Roman history, torn between two competing motivations; living his own life, and doing his duty to Rome.

  Finally, readers fluent in this early Imperial period may see some names familiar to them, in the form of some of the Tribunes and the men serving as Centurions in the Germanicus Legion. This is not an accident, but I also want to stress that nowhere did I find any evidence that those men actually serve with Germanicus; they were about the right age, and I wanted to present them as possibilities of being involved in some way. Their requisite characters, and their flaws, are again strictly of my own invention.

  Chapter 1

  I did not tarry in Carnuntum; carrying a pass signed by Tiberius opened up every door, like with the sour quartermaster in the Quaestorium there, who tried to slip me a couple of nags as replacements for the mounts I had used to get to Carnuntum as quickly as I did. Latobius had borne the journey well, but he was in his prime, and while he was no Ocelus, he was still a horse well above the average run of mounts used by a man of my status. Which, I supposed, was the reason for the Immune in charge of the Legion stables thinking I was a typical man of the Legions who did not know his horseflesh. Parading two specimens that could only charitably be called horses, he initially was resistant to my demand for more suitable animals, until, more out of frustration than any thought it would really work, I produced the scroll that I was to present to Germanicus, turning it so the Immune could see the seal and, most importantly, to whom it belonged. This was the first time I would use this scroll in such a fashion, but it was far from the last, which should be understandable, given the results. The horse that would serve as my remount was a smoke-gray, and at first glance resembled Ocelus so strongly that my vision blurred; thankfully, a closer examination showed the differences. For one thing, this horse was not as tall or as broad-chested, and he was a gelding, but when compared to the first offering, he was Bucephalus, and the thought crossed my mind that this might have been a ploy on the part of the Immune all along. The pack animal was slightly smaller but was clean-limbed and appeared sound for my purposes, and I was not going nearly as far as I had from Ubiorum to Carnuntum. And, as I had been informed by the Tribune who had caught up with me, sent by Tiberius, once I reached Poetovio, where the 13th was still stationed as their permanent camp, I would be escorted the rest of the way by an ala of cavalry. More than anything else, it impressed upon me that this was not a homecoming, and that, for once, nobody was pretending that all was quiet in Pannonia.

  Provided that the rebellion had not spread faster and farther than what Tiberius’ sources had reported, which, given my experience with the province, was certainly well within the realm of possibility, I was reasonably confident I would be relatively safe riding alone as I made my way south from Carnuntum. I would be paralleling the Danuvius for a stretch, along the edge of the wide plain that is encompassed by the huge loop of the river, making ambushing someone difficult, although as any veteran learns, men whose roots reach so deeply into the soil as those barbarians who called this area home are more than capable of finding a spot that, to the unwary eye, poses no danger. Regardless, I felt confident enough in my experience that I was not overly concerned with the perils of traveling alone, but I did remain alert as I rode, mostly by talking to Latobius. I spent a fair amount of time, particularly the first day out of Carnuntum, trying to unravel the real meaning of some of the things that Tiberius had said, knowing that despite his offhand manner, there was something deeper lurking there. In particular, I wondered about the meaning of his natural son staying in Rome, who I learned was just a year younger than Germanicus, who I thought was about nineteen. As Romans of all classes know, there is a level of expectation present that comes with the privileges of being fortunate enough to be born into one of the rich, powerful, and illustrious families of Rome. Specifically, when it comes to all things martial, despite the level of relative peace, young men of these families are e
xpected to have served under the standard in some capacity, and on the surface, something like this rebellion would seem to be a perfect time for Tiberius to see his son blooded. On the other hand, I felt certain that Tiberius knew, probably better than me and my fellow veterans of the province, how dirty and vicious the fighting can get when suppressing a rebellion, given his broader experience with such. Never far from my own thoughts was the battle with Draxo and the rebelling Taurisci, where I had helplessly watched my first Primus Pilus struck down, and more importantly, the repercussions that had brought down on the heads of the survivors of a town that, even now, no longer exists. One day, it was a thriving place, almost the size of Siscia at the time, and in the space of less than one full day, the entire town was burned to the ground, and we slaughtered every man, woman, and child who had been contained within its walls. No, I decided, it would make sense if Tiberius wanted his son nowhere near the kinds of things that might be part of suppressing this rebellion, although that immediately raised the question about why Germanicus was taking part. To this point, I did not know much of Germanicus, and frankly, the men of the Legions did not either, though I supposed it made sense that, not only was Germanicus older, he was also Tiberius’ son by adoption. Of course, my father was adopted by my Avus, and I know Titus Pullus loved my father as a son, and my father returned that love to a degree even higher than he showed his own sire. One thing I had heard from someplace, though I cannot say exactly where, was that Tiberius’ adoption of Germanicus had not been his choice, but one forced upon him by the Princeps. And, if the rumors were true, it was one of a series of acts that Augustus had required of Tiberius in exchange for being returned to the favor of the Princeps. The more I thought about it, the more I began to develop the idea that young Drusus, who Tiberius had named in honor of his brother whom, as I had personally witnessed, he loved very much, was being kept in Rome not by Tiberius, but by Augustus. It made sense, on a number of levels; the rehabilitation of Tiberius to favor was still in its formative stage, and of all the things said about Tiberius, one in particular was something with which I had experience, as I learned during the Tribunal of my former Primus Pilus. There was a real fear by a powerful segment of Rome’s ruling class that, should he decide to, Tiberius could summon not one, but several Legions, all of them he had personally commanded at one time or another, to wrest the power from Augustus, not perhaps to rule, but to force the Princeps to name Tiberius as his heir. This was problematic, on a number of levels, not least of which is that most of the men under the standard believed this was exactly what he should have done. It was an article of faith that Tiberius had been treated shabbily by the Princeps, and the fact that those Augustus had either named outright, or made it known were his choice as successor kept dying was taken as an omen by the gods themselves. Some men thought this way, at any rate; frankly, I did not then nor do I now think the gods care a whit about the things we do among ourselves, jockeying for power over what I imagine the gods think of as their table scraps. By the time I reached the end of the first day’s journey from Carnuntum, I had convinced myself that Tiberius’ natural son was being held as a de facto hostage, while the adopted son was being sent out to be blooded and, if my instincts were correct, to perhaps stumble in a way that would damage his luster compared to the undamaged young Drusus. As I drifted off to sleep, I had an unsettling realization; here I am, thrown right into the middle of another squabble between my betters. Maybe, I thought miserably, that’s the destiny of the Pullus family, to always be at the mercy of powerful men of Rome.