I am CASCA
The legion accepted the services of one so ably qualified without question. In his time in Greece, Casca had acquired new identity documents, so there was no difficulty there. He was immediately inducted. The fact that he was in need of no-or at the least, little-training, was welcomed, and Casca prepared himself for a time in the legions of Rome. Here at least he knew the routines and how to deal with most of the problems that would come.
He had enlisted in Sidon. From there, after a refresher course, he was sent to join the army of the general Avidius Cassius in Damascus. He had returned to the legions and the eagles of Rome. Marcus Aurelius was emperor, and it was one hundred and fifty years since the Jew had been crucified in Jerusalem. Casca was amazed when he looked at his reflection in the brass mirror when he shaved. Well, old boy, you don't look a day over one hundred and forty. I have outlasted them all. Even Jerusalem has been destroyed and the temple of the Jews torn down, yet I remain. The emperors of Rome turn to dust. How many have come and gone since my birth? Let me see. Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero that slug, Galba, Otho, Vitellus, Vespasian, who started the war on the Jews, and then his son Titus who finished them off and scattered them throughout the world, Domitian, Nerva, Trajan (now there was a hell of a man), Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, but now that Lucius is dead there is just Aurelius — Eighteen emperors have come and gone, but I'm still here and the same. At least, I think I'm the same. How would I know if I have changed. Anyway, who cares?
TWENTY-FOUR
Casca watched his commander. Avidius Cassius was gazing out toward the desert, a look of intense concentration on his hard face. He seemed a living copy of the stone bust that might be made of him should this campaign succeed and the emperorship be within his grasp. That's what generals thought about, wasn't it? What they would get personally out of a battle? Shit! Was there any real difference between a general and a trooper? For the soldier, rape and plunder? For the general, laurels and honor… and riches? Oh, hell no. Sure, you thought about what you could get-but wouldn't a general also plan the battle? Plan the whole campaign in this case? What was it like to be a general? What went through a general's mind? The thought sniffed idly at the edges of Casca's brain: The Jew said that what I am, I shall remain. Did he mean I will always be a trooper and never a general? But would I want to be a general? Would I know what the hell to do if I were a general? If I were Avidius Cassius, what would I be thinking of right now? He looked at the stone-faced bastard, but he could read nothing in the marble features. Hell, that's his job. Mine is to do what I will be told.
Avidius Cassius was indeed thinking about the campaign, and his mind was a complicated pattern of history, facts, possibilities, problems, and plans. Across the desert lay Parthia, the enemy he intended to conquer-and one not to be taken lightly. The Parthians themselves were direct descendants of the great empire of Persia that Xerxes had led so magnificently. Then, when the great Alexander's generals divided his empire among themselves, Ptolemy had taken Egypt and the Seleucids had taken Persia. Thus the Parthians combined the best of the Greek and Persian world in their armies. For hundreds of years they had held off the Roman eagles. Many times the Roman armies had invaded-and even destroyed Ctesiphon, but like the phoenix of their legends, Parthia always rose again. And again. Only the Germans equaled the Parthians for the amount of trouble they gave Rome.
Details of the Parthian military organization ran through Avidius's mind… formidable heavy cavalry… the cataphracti… wearing armored scales and armed with the great lance, the contus… using shock tactics to break their enemy lines. These were the wealthy and the nobles for the most part. The bulk of the Parthian cavalry was made up of horse archers of great skill in shooting and riding. Now those bowmen… Destroy them and — Inwardly Avidius smiled.
This campaign had been well-planned. The legions of Rome had gathered at Bostra and Damascus. There were contingents from Thrace and Africa. Even three cohorts of the Tenth were present for the campaign, being temporarily assigned to "the praetor Avidius Cassius."Well… praetor now… who knows what the future will hold? The strength was there. Cassius was not about to repeat the mistakes made when last he came to Parthia and had to share command with that head-in-his-ass bastard who had fucked up that campaign. This time he was in sole command-and that would make the difference.
Already the native contingents of Armenia had, in response to his message of aid, sent their forces across their borders and were harassing the Parthians from the north. Even now they were holding the city of Amida under siege while auxiliaries from Cappadocia and Galatia, with the aid of several Roman cohorts, were attacking Europa. This should serve to split the forces of Parthia and draw them off in several directions. Now it was time for him to play his whole card. He would take his legions and native auxiliaries and cross this great desert before him on a direct forced march. Five hundred miles as the crow flies and they would reach the valley of the Euphrates. For weeks now Avidius had been sending out units into the desert, laying in caches of water and food. Now he was ready. Once he gave the command to form the legions they would march thirty miles a day and come in from the south, just north of Babylon, and attack Ctesiphon from the rear while the bulk of the Parthian armies were involved with trying to relieve the sieges of Amida and Europa.
Avidius Cassius gave the command to form the legion, and the army entered the great desert. The Arab auxiliaries rode their camels wrapped in their voluminous robes, their faces covered by scarves to keep the sand from their mouths and noses. Avidius had learned much from his last venture into the hostile regions of Parthia. He was an ambitious man, lean and sharp-featured, and his brain was just as lean and sharp. He understood that his soldiers would have to be in the best condition possible if they were to have any chance for success after the desert crossing. Therefore all armor was taken and put into carts and on the back of the pack animals. The soldiers were issued robes not dissimilar to those the Arabs wore. Only the troops assigned to flanking duty and point were in armor — and these troops were changed several times a day. They entered the desert, and scorpions and snakes were trampled under the heels of twenty thousand Romans and their allies. Avidius had planned well. The miles rolled by, and few in his charge were lost to the sun or to thirst. Only sixteen hundred would die in the twenty days of the march. Casca lost himself in the familiar routine of the march. Like the others, he tried to ignore the omnipresent force of the sun beating down like a hammer from the heavens. The army marched head bowed, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as though this was their only mission on earth. Each knew that to be separated from the column was to die. It was up to them to keep up the back-breaking-and mind-breaking-pace that Avidius had set. Stragglers were left behind, and few ever showed up again. They were either killed or sold into slavery by the bands of bandits and scavengers who followed after the Romans like hyenas waiting for the leftovers and scraps. But even they stopped following after a week. The desert was too much.
Several camp followers had attached themselves to the legions as such have done since time immemorial. Many were the favorites of officers who had brought them along for their own comfort and pleasure. Avidius had them all strangled the fourth day of the march when he saw how much of his precious supply of water they were using. Since none would survive the four days' walk back to the last outpost, either dying alone or suffering the ugly death or slavery they would get from the scavenging bands that trailed after the army, Avidius considered his order to kill them an act of kindness on his part. Besides, dead they could say nothing of any plans they may have heard about.