It would be a lie if I said that I was not a little surprised to see Vibius standing outside his house, pale and looking haggard, but in an immaculate uniform. The servants must have been jumping through their own assholes, I thought wryly when Gisela and I pulled up in the wagon. This was the first that Gisela had seen Vibius since we learned of Juno’s betrayal, and I was glad that only I heard her sharp intake of breath at the sight of him.
The moment we pulled up, Vibius snapped to intente¸ giving his best parade ground salute, intoning in the expressionless voice that all rankers use to let their superiors know what they truly thought of them, “Good morning Pilus Prior.”
Then, with a shade more warmth he turned and said, “Good morning Gisela.”
“Good morning, Vibius,” Gisela replied in a cheerful tone that I recognized was forced, although Vibius did not seem to notice. “Lovely day to start back, don’t you think?”
Vibius shrugged as he threw his gear in the back before climbing into the back of the wagon. “Good as any, I suppose. Ready when you are, Pilus Prior.”
I do not know why I was hoping for anything other than what I was getting, yet I was disappointed nonetheless. I only hoped that things would return to a semblance of normality at some point in the near future. Once he was settled in, I slapped the reins, beginning our journey back to the base as I idly wondered whether or not my nemesis Celer had returned and been making trouble for me after arranging his father’s affairs. Suddenly, it did not seem to be so important now.
The trip back was a misery. Vibius was determined to make me feel as guilty as possible. While in the beginning he at least made a pretense of communicating with me, albeit always in an official tone, he finally dropped even that. By the end of the second day, we were reduced to using Gisela as our medium; I would ask Vibius a question, except it would be asked of Gisela. In turn Vibius would respond to Gisela, who would roll her eyes, but thankfully played along with the game. By the third day I grew tired of this and just stopped talking, at Vibius or to Gisela for that matter, my mood becoming so pervasive that they rarely spoke either. Consequently, it was a silent, sullen lot that traveled the roads back to the base. Our only relief came when we would stop for the night at some inn, where we could freely engage in conversation with strangers, and it was on the road back that we heard the first bits about what was happening in the wider world since we had been gone.
“Caesar’s a plucked and boiled chicken, that’s what I say,” we overheard an olive oil merchant from Campania telling a younger man dressed as a knight, at an inn still a few days away from Narbo. “Cato has him by the short hairs, that’s for sure,” he continued, and both Vibius and I, our differences temporarily forgotten, exchanged a glance. I raised an eyebrow in a silent signal and Vibius nodded, getting up from our table to walk over to sit next to the merchant. This was something we had long since perfected; Vibius being a much less imposing figure than I was, people warmed up to him more easily.
“Say you, friend. I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said genially, “what’s this business you speak of? What about Caesar?”
The merchant looked Vibius up and down, both of us having changed into our only civilian outfits for the journey, but we were still wearing our boots and our belts, telling everyone that we were from the Legions.
“Soldier, eh?”
There was no malice in the merchant’s tone like we sometimes ran into, and Vibius, picking up on the lack of hostility, nodded. “Home on leave down to Astigi,” he told the man, “now returning to our base.”
“What Legion are you with?” the young knight asked.
“The 10th,” Vibius responded, and even from across the room I could hear the pride in his voice. The effect on the others was palpable; the 10th’s fame was now well-known throughout the Republic and the provinces.
“Caesar’s favorites,” the merchant's tone was admiring. Then, he turned cautious, “Say, if I tell you what’s happening, you’re not going to take out Caesar’s troubles on us, are you? I mean, we’re just the messengers here.”
Vibius laughed, “No chance of that, friend. What happens to Caesar is his trouble, not mine. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
That was not exactly true, but it satisfied the two men at the table, and they filled Vibius in, either not knowing or not caring that there were two other sets of ears listening avidly to the news. The merchant was not exaggerating; Caesar was indeed in a tight spot. His old nemesis Cato had been a constant thorn in Caesar’s side for years, yet now the situation was becoming dangerous. Cato was working tirelessly to see that once Caesar’s term as governor of Gaul expired, he would be tried for a variety of crimes, most of them actions that we were involved in to one degree or another. Most troubling to the Legions was the charge of massacring the Usipetes and Tencteri those years ago, and despite not understanding exactly why we did it, I did not think it just to try to punish Caesar for it. There was a war going on for gods’ sakes, what did the fine gentlemen of the Senate expect? To forestall the prosecution, Caesar decided to run for Consul, and was working the system to ensure his election. The problem lay in the fact that the only way he could run for Consul was to give up command of his army to enter the city, yet the moment he did that he lost his imperium¸ and with it the immunity from prosecution. He attempted to have a measure passed in the Senate exempting him from this rule, but Cato and his allies blocked it. Now, just a few months away from the end of Caesar’s governorship, this was the situation he faced. A complicating factor was Pompey, the old war horse and the man who had been the First Man since Vibius and I were born, but whose primacy was being eclipsed by Caesar. Despite being bound by oath, and by the marriage of Pompey to Caesar’s daughter Julia, her death in childbirth cut the last real tie that bound the two together. Cato was continuously in Pompey’s ear, dripping all sorts of poison about Caesar into it, meaning the rift between the two was ever widening. This was the situation to which we were returning, and needless to say, it gave us a sense of urgency as we increased our pace back to the base the next morning.
Arriving back at Narbo with a day to spare on our leave I put it to good use by finding a midwife for Gisela, and making other arrangements that she deemed necessary. She tolerated the trip very well, but I could see that she was tired and needed rest by the time we got back to base. The situation with Caesar had one salutary effect; Vibius and I began talking again, albeit only on political matters, but I hoped that it was a start to repairing our relationship. Even better for me was that Celer had only gotten back a couple days before us, giving him no time to make much mischief, and his toady Niger was useless without him. The Cohort ran smoothly under Priscus; I was happy to see that the punishment list was very short, Priscus having given his report in my quarters the moment he knew I had returned.
“Excellent job, Priscus. Thank you.” He was standing in front of my desk in my quarters in camp.
He shrugged, yet I could tell he was pleased. “Just doing my job Pilus Prior,” he said modestly.
“That’s true, but it’s still good to know I don’t have to look over my shoulder when I leave you in charge.” We both laughed; he knew exactly what I meant.
The Legion was buzzing with activity and gossip and we were assailed on a daily basis with news from Rome. One of the most difficult aspects was trying to separate fact from fiction; one day, the word spread through the camp that Caesar was arrested, and thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, causing a near-riot before the culprit who spread the rumor was found and flogged until he confessed that he made it up out of boredom. Then there was the word that Pompey had gathered his Legions and was marching on Caesar at Ravenna, where he decided to spend the winter, quickly followed by a counter-rumor that it was Caesar who was marching on Rome. That, as it turned out, was the truth. Caesar crossed the Rubicon with the 13th Legion, and was moving on Rome. And Gisela went into labor a week early.