“Hah! If he did that, half his staff officers would pull the sort of idiotic stunts you’ve been entertaining us with, just to get out of the coming war. I’ve never seen such a spineless pack of bluebloods.” He spat over the palisade, in which were stuck several arrows.
“What do the blue feathers mean?” I asked him. “Second Cohort?”
“Correct. I am Helvius Blasio, optio of the Fourth Century of the Second. I already know who you are.”
“Word does get around, doesn’t it?”
“Decidedly. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in a legionary camp. Doubly so when it involves someone flouting the First Spear’s authority. Such persons attract great attention and admiration. For a very brief time, anyway.”
I accompanied him as he finished his rounds, being in no rush to meet my fate. We discussed the enemy and the upcoming campaign. Blasio maintained his professional’s nonchalance, but I sensed his unease. The whole camp vibrated with the tension of a legion deep in enemy territory and about to plunge into action.
I took my leave of Blasio and got myself shaved and barbered, then I went to my tent. Hermes had my breakfast already laid out.
“One of your Gauls told me you’re in trouble,” he said cheerfully.
“That is correct. Now run along and report to your sword instructor.”
He groaned. “I thought it was the one on the receiving end of the sword who was supposed to hurt!”
“Every accomplishment comes at a price. Off with you, now.” Grumbling, he did as he was told.
All too soon, I heard a tuba sounding the officer’s call. I was abominably weary, but there was to be no rest for me. With my helmet beneath my arm I strode smartly toward the praetorium. One advantage of belonging to a family like mine is that one is given a very thorough schooling in all the rhetorical arts. These include not only the art of public speaking but also of presenting oneself, both standing and in motion. Since a man bent upon high office must serve with the legions, he is taught how to show himself before the troops. There is a genuine art to getting the rough military cloak to flutter behind you as you walk, and draping it casually over the slightly raised arm when you halt so that it bestows the dignity of a toga.
Vinius might be able to outshout me, but he could never match me for poise and sheer, aristocratic style. And I was certain that I would have to carry this off on style alone, since I had nothing else at my disposal.
The faces gathered around the staff table wore a wide variety of expressions, from the carefully noncommittal to the violently hostile. The only smile present was my own, and that was as false as a whore’s. Caesar looked as grim as death, but maybe, I thought, he was just thinking about all those Gauls.
“Decius Caecilius Metellus,” he said, destroying another of my fond delusions, “the First Spear has leveled some extremely serious accusations at you. You must answer them.”
“Accusations?” I said. “Am I supposed to have misbehaved?”
“You would do well to acknowledge the gravity of your situation,” Caesar said. “Foolishness that can be overlooked in peacetime, in Rome, is not to be tolerated in a legionary camp at war.”
“Ah, yes, foolishness,” I remarked, my eyes not on Caesar but on Vinius. “I think forcing sentries to go night after night without sleep in the presence of the enemy is foolishness of the most dangerous sort.”
“Proconsul,” Vinius said, keeping a tight rein on his voice, “this officer has interfered with my sentry postings. Since his arrival here, he has sought to coddle his precious client who happens to be a member of my century. Last night that man and the rest of his contubernium slept on guard duty. I want them executed.”
There was a collective indrawing of breath.
“Those men slept at my command. Their guard posts were not deserted. I manned them with troopers from my own ala.”
“He let Gauls guard a legionary encampment!” Vinius said witheringly. “It’s worse than treason!”
“The offense is grave,” Caesar said. “Even so, capital punishment at this point would be excessive. The men were acting on instructions from a superior, however idiotic those instructions may have been. We must, after all, consider their source. No, the fault lies not with the legionaries but with this officer.”
Vinius stood there fuming. Nothing looks sadder than a man cheated of a few executions.
“I believe that I acted with perfect. .”
“Silence,” Caesar said, without special emphasis. I shut up. Caesar had that admirable ability to make a common spoken word sound like thunder from Jupiter.
“Decius Caecilius, what am I to do with you? I could pack you off to Rome in disgrace, but that is what I suspect you most dearly wish. I could reduce you in rank, but you are already about as low as a man can get and still be an officer in this army. I could make you a common soldier, but you are a Senator and I would not offend the Senate by making a member of that august body serve as a foot-slogger.” This may have been the very last time Caius Julius Caesar ever worried about offending the Senate.
“There is always beheading, Caesar,” Labienus murmured. “It is a gentlemanly punishment, worthy of a lordly Caecilian.”
Caesar stroked his chin as if he were giving the suggestion serious consideration. “There is his family to consider. The beginning of a war might be a bad time to alienate the most powerful voting bloc in the Senate and the Assemblies.”
“Oh, we won’t miss him,” my cousin Lumpy assured Caesar. “We have plenty more where he came from.” Some men will stoop to anything to get out of paying off a hundred sesterces.
“The idea is tempting,” Caesar said, “but an execution before hostilities have properly commenced might be viewed as severe. No, I shall have to devise something else. No matter, I’ll think of something. First Spear, rest assured that this officer will never again interfere with your men or with your performance of your duties.”
Vinius was far from satisfied, but he knew better than to argue. Even a First Spear could not demand the execution of a superior officer.
“As the Proconsul wishes,” he said, not quite churlishly.
Thus far I seemed to be getting away with my pose of aristocratic disdain, but I was far from easy about it. This chitchat about execution was almost certainly just scare talk, but I could not be perfectly certain. A military commander is permitted tremendous leeway in the measures he deems appropriate to secure order and discipline within their forces. He could be hauled into court when he returned home and laid down his imperium, but juries in such cases usually sided with the commander. All citizens understand that the security of the State and the Empire depend utterly upon the discipline of our soldiers, a discipline that is unique in all the world.
Lucullus had declined to execute Clodius (still called Caludius back then) when he had every right to. Clodius had incited officers and men of Lucullus’s army to mutiny against their commander. But he had not wished to offend the powerful Claudian clan, and Clodius hadn’t accomplished much, anyway. Other commanders were less tolerant.
Caesar ignored me for the rest of the staff conference, during which he sorted through the mundanities and complexities of the army’s situation with great efficiency, dispensing duties and special assignments in a crisp, clear tone that left no questions as to exactly what was expected. Once again I was impressed. I later learned that it was Caesar’s opinion that more military disasters had occurred because of unclearly worded orders than from all other causes combined.
Once his duty was assigned, each man saluted and left to carry out his orders. Last to go was Titus Vinius. He was glaring pointedly at me and Caesar was not unaware of the fact.
“That will be all, First Spear,” Caesar said. “You have leave.”
Vinius almost said something, thought better of it, saluted and left, trailing a miasma of hatred so palpable you couldn’t have heaved a spear through it.