Chapter 14- Rubicon
Looking back, it is difficult for me to clearly separate the events that took place over those next weeks. What I remember are bits and pieces of memories, flashes of conversations, so once again I will be relying on the Commentaries to provide a chronological order to the events that had such a huge impact, not only on me but on the fate of Rome itself. Essentially, as I mentioned before, Caesar was on the horns of a dilemma. Despite having managed, through Pompey’s efforts, to have a law enacted that allowed him to stand for a second Consulship in absentia, making it so that he did not have to surrender the imperium that came with his governorship, his enemies were not defeated, staying very busy hatching plots to destroy him. Also, Pompey changed the law concerning the interval between which a candidate could hold a city office such as Consul or Urban Praetor, and the beginning of a governorship of a province. What this meant in effect was that a man other than a Consul of the previous year could hold a governorship. In theory this could help Caesar, except that two of his bitter opponents, Aemilius Paullus and Claudius Marcellus were elected Consul, whereupon they immediately put forward a motion to recall Caesar immediately, months before he could run for Consul. This would make Caesar a private citizen and strip him of his imperium and immunity, making it clear that his enemies, Cato being principal among them, would use that status to destroy Caesar. However, Caesar was not standing idly by, buying one of the Tribunes of the Plebs, a young rake named Curio who used the Tribunician veto to forestall Caesar’s recall. Meanwhile, negotiations were taking place to attempt a peaceful solution between Pompey and Caesar, with intermediaries coming and going between the two with proposals and counterproposals. Curio, whose alliance with Caesar was a secret at the time, put forward a proposal that garnered a great deal of support with the moderates; namely, that both Pompey and Caesar lay down the command of their respective armies at the same time. As promising as this may have been for a peaceful resolution, there were powerful men who wanted no such thing. Unsurprisingly Cato was the primary force behind those who opposed Curio’s proposal, and I place most of the blame for what happened on his shoulders. Even Vibius was uncomfortable with the developments engineered by Cato, although it was his actions that actually got Vibius and I talking again in a manner that was almost back to normal. I was visiting my old tentmates, where naturally the topic of conversation was the events in Rome, and more importantly to us, when Caesar would be calling us. To that point, only the 13th was with him, but orders had come to begin preparations to march, so I had been inspecting the Cohort’s readiness before stopping by.
“So Pullus, what’s the latest? When do we move?” Scribonius asked as he worked on polishing his helmet.
I shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything more than what I’ve already passed on, other than all the crazy rumors.”
I remembered something. “Oh, I did hear that Pompey has summoned the Legions from Spain.”
The 6th had been recalled from their service with Caesar some time before, an act that was certainly within Pompey’s rights, but it was also an ominous sign, along with Caesar surrendering the 15th, thereby reducing the forces at his disposal. Both Legions were now sitting in Italy, waiting for orders. Supposedly they were bound for an expedition to Parthia, but nobody believed that.
“Well, I hope that prick Cato ends up on a cross, that’s all I can say,” declared Vellusius.
Almost immediately all eyes darted over to Vibius, who was sitting silently in the corner, stuffing items into the pack that would be loaded on the Cohort baggage wagon. He did not answer at first, then seemed to notice the silence, and looking up to see all eyes on him, he shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I definitely think that he’s put Caesar into a no-win position, and I think he’s brought about the ruin of the Republic, even though I know that was the exact opposite he intended.”
You could have heard a mouse fart; this was certainly not what we expected to hear from Vibius of all people, who had been a strong Catonian for years.
“Hopefully a peaceful solution will still win out,” Scribonius said; he was always the peacemaker among my tentmates. He was a fierce fighter, yet he hated to see any kind of conflict between his friends. This time, his attempt was met with open disagreement from all of us.
“Not likely,” Vibius shook his head. “I think things have gone too far, and honestly, I don’t think those boys in the Senate, Cato leading the way,” with that he glanced meaningfully at me, “want a peaceful solution. Between what Marcellus did in flogging that official from Novum Comum, and them spitting on the proposal for both sides to disarm, I say we’re marching in a month, maybe sooner. What do you say, Titus?”
This was the first non-official exchange between Vibius and me since I kicked him out of bed back home, and I was smart enough to recognize the peace offering for what it was. I also knew it was no time to quibble about him calling me by my first name in front of others, no matter how old friends they may have been, also recognizing that this was his way of testing the waters. If I corrected him, our friendship would more than likely never be repaired. Still, even knowing that I hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, a part of my brain screaming at me to upbraid him for his lapse. I am glad I did not listen.
“I think you’re right, Vibius,” I said quietly. “I think we’re going to war, sooner rather than later.”
“I wonder what it’s like fighting our own?” Scribonius asked, and while at that point it was somewhat of a rhetorical question, I know that it was a topic that filled my mind. It comforted me to know that I was not the only one who was thinking such thoughts.
“We’ll at least know what they’re going to do, not like those fucking Gauls,” Didius spoke for the first time from his spot, lounging on his bed closest to the fire. I still did not like Didius much, and I had my doubts about how reliable he would be in a really hard fight, but like it or not, he was one of us, my longest and best companions, no matter how high up the ranks I climbed. Besides, what he said was true, and there was a chorus of agreement from the rest of us.
“Still,” Scribonius insisted, “it’s going to be strange looking over the shield and seeing another Roman doing the same thing.”
“I just hope it’s nobody we know,” Vellusius replied, and that sentiment touched the nub of what was bothering us all. It was bad enough that we would most likely be facing our own kind, but the thought that we might have to fight and kill someone with whom we sweat and bled was what kept us up at night. With that last comment, I excused myself and left their quarters. I had gone only a few paces when I heard Vibius call my name, so I turned and waited for him to come to me, where we stood for a moment, neither of us speaking. I was not sure what was on his mind and did not feel right saying anything first, mainly out of foolish pride, which was probably what kept him rooted there.
Finally, he blurted, “Look, Titus. I just wanted to thank you for giving me the boot in the ass back home. I was………”
I stopped him there. “No apology necessary, Vibius. You’d have done the same for me. And,” I added with a grin, “I’d have been mightily pissed at you for probably longer than you’ve been at me.” I gave him a friendly push, and laughed, “Although I would have kicked your ass.”
“In your dreams,” he snorted. “You’re strong, but you’re slow as an ox. I,” he drew himself up to his full height of five feet four inches, “am lightning. You never know where I'll strike.”