Caesars general, p.11
Caesar's General, page 11
Caesar looked from Curio to Antony and Cassius, who both nodded their agreement.
‘Curio’s assessment is correct, Caesar,’ said Cassius. ‘The hatred of you and any who support you from the optimates is profound.’
Caesar put his hands on the table, bowed his head and sighed.
‘Pompeius, you fool. Why have you thrown your lot in with these short-sighted idiots? Were you so unwilling to share the glory of your position with me that we must bring our lands to war once more? If only Crassus had survived…’
He looked up, and Antony could see genuine anguish in his eyes. ‘He was my friend, and my beloved daughter’s husband. But he has made his choice. And I must make mine.’
He turned to Labienus. ‘Have the legion drawn up outside immediately. I will address them shortly.’
The medicus came in with a bucket of water, a sponge and a bag full of medical instruments and bandages. He approached Antony, but Caesar held up a hand.
‘Antonius, I think our men need to see what has been done to you. Can you wait for your wounds to be attended, just a little longer?’
Antony smiled grimly. ‘These injuries are mere gnat bites,’ he said. ‘I can bear them as long as you need.’
Caesar gave an approving nod. ‘Come.’
He led Antony and Cassius out to the parade ground, where the Thirteenth Gemina Legion was drawn up in all its pomp. Recruited in Gaul early in Caesar’s command of the province, it had taken part in battles against the Nervians, as well as Gergovia and Alesia. The pride of their achievements and their love of their commander shone from the eyes of each and every one of them. Caesar mounted a small wooden platform that had been brought up for his address, and beckoned Antony and Cassius up to join him.
‘Men of the Thirteenth, most loyal of my comrades, I stand before you today as a man wronged. My enemies in the Senate have struck blow after blow against me. They have attempted to have me replaced as your commander—’ Jeers and boos broke out at this. ‘They have tried to deny me my right to stand for a second consulship. They have set our struggles, our injuries and losses, our glorious achievements on behalf of the Republic, at nothing, while they sit in their expensive houses, drink fine wine and banquet on oysters and sows’ udders.’
More shouts of disapproval came from the arrayed legionaries, and Caesar let them have their voice before continuing.
‘My friend, my brother, Pompeius Magnus, has been led astray and corrupted by the self-styled optimates of the Senate, through jealousy and a desire to take away my credit, though he has always supported my honour and dignity in the past. But now, a new precedent has been set by these vipers. In the past, it was necessary for force of arms to restore and affirm the veto of the tribunes. Now armed force has been used to take it away. Even Sulla, who stripped all other power from the tribunes, left them the right of free intervention, and Pompeius restored the privileges that Sulla removed. Yet look what the ignominious wretches in the Senate and their soldiers have done to the sacrosanct, inviolate persons of our tribunes.’
Caesar ushered Antony forward, and he stood before the legionaries, still dressed in bloodied slave rags, turning this way and that so they could all see the injuries inflicted on him. The howls from the legionaries reached a new crescendo of outrage. Antony felt like a performer on stage, and was distracted for a moment by thoughts of Cytheris. But Caesar’s powerful voice broke over his reverie.
‘And further, they have decreed the senatus consultum ultimum, for which there is no precedent in these circumstances.
‘I have been your commander for nine years, and under my leadership your efforts have brought fortune and riches to Rome. You have fought countless successful battles and pacified the whole of Gaul and Germania. I call on you now to protect my reputation and dignity against those enemies that wish me harm. Will you stand with me?’
The roars of approval were deafening now. Caesar stood, basking in the adulation of his men, and Antony, standing on his right side, soaked up the reflected glory. This was command, he thought. This was power. And this was better than any speech in the Senate, no matter how well received. Nothing could compare to this feeling.
Caesar held his arms up to be heard again.
‘Comrades, friends, you have my gratitude, though I never for a moment doubted your courage or loyalty. Now go, and prepare for the struggle to come, in which we will free the Republic from the unworthy men who hold it in their grasp.’
He descended from the dais and headed back to his headquarters, Antony and Cassius following. Inside, Curio, Trebonius and Labienus were waiting to receive them. They all applauded, though Antony noted that Labienus was a little less enthusiastic than the others.
‘That went rather well, I thought,’ said Caesar.
‘It was magnificent,’ said Trebonius.
‘You have them in your palm, Caesar,’ said Curio.
‘Well done,’ said Labienus.
‘Thank you, all, for your praise and your efforts on my behalf. But I must pay tribute to one man above all others, without whom my position would be far worse. Marcus Antonius has protected my interests in Rome with courage and conviction, no matter the risk to his personal safety and his own interests. He has been elected to the augurate and the tribunate in the face of intense hostility. He has had physical injury inflicted on him in my service. Antonius, you truly deserve to be at my side.’
Antony beamed, and mumbled his thanks.
‘We march tonight. Make your preparations. For my part, I am going to take a bath. Farewell.’
Caesar left them, and Curio came over to clap Antony on his back and congratulate him. Curio and Cassius had worked hard on Caesar’s behalf, too, but Curio seemed to take nothing but pleasure in the praise credited to his best friend, and Cassius would surely admit that Antony had been the senior of the two of them in the tribunate, taking a lead on everything to do with Caesar’s case. Trebonius, too, seemed happy for his friend and comrade-in-arms.
But Labienus, widely acknowledged as Caesar’s most able lieutenant, steadfast by his side throughout his long campaign in Gaul, and responsible in his own right for some of Rome’s most famous victories in the province, had an expression like a thundercloud. Antony returned his stare calmly, but he knew that Labienus was mortally insulted. Had Caesar made a rare tactical blunder in overlooking his longstanding deputy?
Antony mentally shrugged. If so, it was all to his own benefit.
‘I’m going to get out of these filthy clothes and have them burned,’ he said. ‘Then I’m going to have the medicus attend to my wounds and get myself a good rub down to knead out the knots and kinks from the road.’
He took his leave, stomach churning in excitement. After more than a year of politics, he was heading back into battle.
ante diem iv Idus Ianuarias DCCV AUC (night of 10 January 49 BC), the Rubicon river
‘Is that it?’ asked Antony.
Caesar smiled. ‘You crossed it on the way north just yesterday.’
‘Yes, but it’s so insignificant I didn’t notice it.’
Caesar had moved with his customary alacrity, setting out with the Thirteenth Legion as soon as it was ready to move. They had marched at double time, reaching the river Rubicon in darkness, deliberately timed to conceal the legion’s movements from prying eyes. Now that they were on the Rubicon’s bank, Antony was distinctly unimpressed. It was little more than a stream, with a kind of ruddy colour to its water that he could make out in the moonlight, which gave it its name.
Caesar was seated in a carriage, comfortable but not ornate, and Antony was back in the saddle again, riding alongside. Others of Caesar’s most intimate circle were close by – Cassius, Curio, Trebonius. Labienus was notably absent. Antony presumed he was sulking with the rearguard.
The legion had halted behind Caesar, and waited expectantly. Caesar got out of his carriage and gazed out across the tiny river, standing in Gaul, looking out into Italy.
‘If I do not do this thing,’ he said in a clear voice, so all around could hear him, ‘then it will be the start of a great evil for me. Yet if I continue, what an evil for all mankind.’
Antony looked at him in surprise. The mighty Caesar, the unperturbable genius who planned everything with precision and always acted with supreme confidence and decisiveness, was having second thoughts? Antony looked around at his comrades, who were equally taken aback. No one else replied, so he spoke up.
‘Caesar, this is not your doing. This is not your choice. This situation has been forced upon you. Maybe people will see you taking your army across the Rubicon, in contravention of the laws, as a declaration of war on the Senate. But in truth, with their decree, the Senate has already declared war on you.’
Caesar nodded, and gave a half-smile. Then he said, ‘So be it. Let the die be cast.’
It was a popular saying among gamblers, and spoken by another, it might concern the men, who always preferred a sure thing to a gamble when it came to battle. But this was Caesar, the favourite of Fortuna, his luck legendary. His words filtered back to the legionaries, who took it up as a slogan to be repeated like a battle cry.
Caesar ascended into the carriage once more and ordered the driver to advance. The order to march was sent back to the primus pilus centurion, the most senior centurion of the first cohort, and the legionaries set off, following their commander as he led them into rebellion. The Rubicon was spanned by a low wooden bridge to accommodate wheeled transport, but the river was low and fordable at this point, so Antony rode his mount into the water, and escorted Caesar across. He made sure the proconsul reached Italy first, then pulled up beside him.
‘So, here we are, Marcus. Where will this path lead us, I wonder?’
‘To Rome,’ Antony replied simply.
Caesar laughed. ‘Sometimes you come across as a learned student of history and philosophy and a skilled orator and politician. Sometimes you seem a simple soldier.’
‘It’s possible to be both, I think.’
‘Quite so. Very well. Forward.’
The single legion continued into Italy, aiming for its first objective, the town of Ariminum. Dawn broke, the sun rising into an orangey sky punctuated with high wispy clouds, and with it the town came into view. It was a venerable colonia, founded by the Romans a couple of centuries previously, and had a history of supporting Roman leaders associated with the people, such as Gaius Marius. As they neared, Antony enquired if they should arrange the legion into battle formation, but Caesar waved the idea away carelessly. When he could see the city walls more clearly, he understood why. The gates were already open.
Antony gave Caesar a sideways glance, but the proconsul had a smug, satisfied look on his face, so he decided not to enquire further. When they reached the gates, half a cohort of legionaries bearing the standard of the Thirteenth was waiting for them, and they came to attention as Caesar approached.
‘Well done, boys,’ he said. ‘Any trouble?’
‘None at all,’ said the senior centurion. ‘A bit of cash and a flash of some steel and they were falling over themselves to get ready to welcome you.’
Caesar had sent an advanced force to take the town, Antony realised. He must have dispatched them as soon as Antony had arrived with news of the Senate’s decree. He thought back to the crossing of the Rubicon a short time ago. Caesar’s doubts and reluctance were all a show. From the moment he had found out the Senate had declared war against him, he had acted with his characteristic speed and decisiveness. That he was trusting to his luck was still true, but he had the ability and self-confidence to make sure the dice were loaded in his favour. And he had known that perception was going to be important in the war of words that would surely come. Showing he had doubts about tipping the Empire into war was his way of making sure the moderates and neutrals could support him with an easier conscience.
Caesar entered the forum in his carriage, where he was met by the town’s officials, who formally surrendered the town to him. He quickly set about making sure his men had rest and food, and he established a temporary headquarters for himself.
Antony took the opportunity to requisition a billet, taking over a nice domus that had been abandoned by a fleeing supporter of Pompey. It was strange to be unaccompanied by his household slaves. Even when he was fighting in Gaul, he had always had some of his personal servants around to attend to his needs, but his hurried flight from Rome had left him without domestic help. He needn’t have worried, though. Caesar allocated some of his own slaves to make sure Antony had everything he needed, and not long after arriving in the town, he had bathed, dined, drunk well and was fast asleep.
ante diem iii Idus Ianuarias DCCV AUC (11 January 49 BC), Ariminum
Antony was woken later that day, partly refreshed by a few hours’ sleep, by a messenger from Caesar, summoning him to a meeting. When he arrived, armed and armoured and ready for battle, he was greeted by two pieces of unwelcome news. The first was that Marcus Caelius Rufus had decided to join Caesar’s cause.
As they waited for Caesar’s arrival, Antony sidled up to Caelius. He had never liked the slimy young man. He was Cicero’s protegé, which was bad enough, but Antony was sure he had spied for Cicero during the conspiracy of Catilina that had led to the execution of Antony’s stepfather. More than that, he had been the lover of Clodia, the exquisitely beautiful and sophisticated lady for whom Antony had fostered his own deep but unrequited love as a youngster. He had never been able to work out what she saw in Caelius, but their affair had gone horribly wrong, ending in a court case and accusations of attempted poisoning.
‘What are you doing here?’ Antony asked, without first offering a greeting.
‘Choosing the winning cause,’ said Caelius simply.
‘Not the just one?’
Caelius shrugged. ‘These things are subjective. But I have little doubt that Caesar will emerge from this struggle the victor, and I have no intention of siding with the losers, no matter how noble they claim their motives to be.’
‘Not many in Rome agree with your assessment of Caesar’s odds.’
‘Maybe not. But Rome is full of fools. What do you think his chances are?’
Antony considered for a moment. ‘I would never bet against Caesar.’
‘Well,’ said Caelius. ‘There we are.’
‘Just a word of warning, though,’ said Antony. ‘If I hear even the slightest whisper that you are spying for Cicero or Pompeius, I will personally break your neck.’
Caelius swallowed. It was clear that Antony had both the strength and the will to do just that.
‘I am not here to spy, Antonius. You have my word.’
Antony thought about saying more, but at that moment Caesar swept in, dressed in his armour and his distinctive scarlet cloak. He gestured to them to be seated, and they all settled themselves onto the stools, chairs and benches that had been put out for them. Antony looked around at the rest of the war council: Curio, Cassius, Trebonius, Caelius, Decimus Brutus and the legate, poet and noted intellectual, Gaius Asinius Pollio. One seat, though, remained empty.
‘Where is Labienus?’ asked Caesar.
Curio and Cassius looked bemused, but Trebonius and Pollio exchanged anxious glances. It was Trebonius, the more senior of the two, who spoke up.
‘I have troubling news, Proconsul. Labienus has deserted to the enemy camp.’
Caesar’s expression did not change. Antony couldn’t imagine what a personal blow to him it was to have his second-in-command of so many years abandon him at this most extreme moment of crisis. Still, for Antony, it was a blessing. There could be no doubt now who Caesar’s lieutenant was. Antony had just become the second most powerful man in the Caesarian faction. It was hard to take in. So much had happened since he had left Syria and joined Caesar in Gaul. Quaestor. Legate. Augur. Tribune. And now this. Whatever this was.
Caesar shrugged and kept his voice even.
‘Make sure to have his baggage and his treasures sent on to him. Now, to business. We have just one legion, but a large force on the far side of the Alps that is hurrying rapidly to our aid. Pompeius has been raising troops in Italy, but he has only two veteran legions, the First and Fifteenth – the ones he took from me on the false pretext that he was going to invade Parthia. He will be wary of their loyalty, but will still be confident in his strength and will have assumed that I would wait for reinforcements before taking action. I think most of you here know me better.
‘Speed and surprise are our friends. Our forces will proceed down the peninsula and advance on Rome. If we are quick enough, we will have the city, the Senate and the treasury in our hands. Therefore, Antonius, you will take five cohorts and take control of Arretium and the Via Cassia. I will also send a cohort each into Pisaurum, Fanum and Ancona, and the remaining two cohorts will stay with me while I raise further levies and wait for news of the response in Rome.’
Antony wondered if Caesar had intended to give him the command of half of the entire force available to him, or whether that appointment was supposed to go to Labienus. Much as he knew he was brave and strong in battle, he did not have Labienus’ experience in command.
‘Thank you for your faith, Caesar,’ said Antony. ‘I won’t let you down.’
Caesar regarded him steadily for a moment, then nodded. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. I had this morning a deputation from your cousin.’
