“No, they don’t know that.”
I smiled, knowing that Scribonius could always be counted on to provide the other viewpoint.
All eyes turned to him, Arrianus scowling at Scribonius, who was whittling on a piece of wood, a favorite hobby of his. “As far as the people are concerned, all of what you speak of happens the same way that it happens in the city, by slave labor. Nobody has thought to tell them differently, so as far as they're concerned, we're no better than they are.”
“We’re much better than they are,” retorted Glaxus, raising another chorus of agreement. “We’ve sacrificed more, we’ve lost more friends than any individual citizen will ever have, all so that they can look down their nose at us when we walk by!”
“It’s our own fault, really.” Now I looked at Scribonius in surprise, while the others’ reactions were a bit stronger. I had understood and basically agreed with what he was saying, but now he was going into territory where I could not easily follow. “Think about it like this. How many people did we enslave out of Gaul?”
“About a million,” I answered.
Nodding, Scribonius continued, “And before that, how many slaves lived in Rome itself? Anyone know?”
We all shook our heads.
“I’m not sure either, but I think it was around 300,000, and I don’t have any idea how many in the rest of the Republic, but my guess is all told there were at least 1,000,000 slaves. Now in the space of seven years, we doubled that amount. How many people did we put out of a job?”
“You mean that they’re mad at us because we freed them from having to work?” protested Arrianus. “Why, they should be kissing the ground that we walk on.”
“Do you really believe that, Arrianus?” Scribonius asked quietly. “How would you feel if you could no longer provide for your family because you were replaced by someone who works essentially for free? Not because you did your job poorly, but merely because you needed enough money so that your family wouldn't starve? Would you really be grateful about that?”
All eyes turned to Arrianus, who was smart enough to know that he was on the losing end. “No, I suppose not,” he grumbled. “But it’s hardly our fault we’re so good at conquering people. What should we have done with all those Gauls? Thrown them back so we could fight them again?”
There was some laughter at this idea, as Scribonius admitted, “No, I’m not saying that necessarily. Honestly, I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know that it’s a little much to expect everyone to be happy with us for essentially taking away their livelihood.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Another five days of celebration passed before the third triumph, this one for the victory against Pharnaces, and again, just the men of the 6th marched. For the Pontic triumph, there was not as much to display, only a few hundred prisoners, and unlike with the Gallic and Egyptian, there were no high-born or prominent men to execute, so Caesar attempted to make up for it with wagons loaded with the arms and armor of the Pontic army that they had discarded fleeing from Zela. One of the pictures portrayed Pharnaces running away in his chariot, which seemed to be very popular with the crowd, but the one I favored the most was not a painting as much as it was an inscription. Caesar had his by-now famous words, “Veni, vidi, vici” written on one large canvas, and it was this that led the procession of scenes. I had thought that by the third triumph, the enthusiasm of the crowd would have waned, but this was not the case. Pontus had been an enemy of Rome for years, so the record of their defeat brought much joy and jubilation to the crowd. Of all the triumphs we celebrated, this was the least controversial, which was good because the final triumph was going to prove to be the most troublesome yet.
~ ~ ~ ~
As far as the men of the army were concerned, the last triumph was a bad idea from the moment it was mentioned. While our conquest of Gaul, along with the defeat of the Egyptians and Pontics was straightforward, we had fought our own people in Africa. Supposedly, the triumph was celebrating the defeat of Juba, and Caesar did parade Juba’s five-year-old son, also called Juba, though he did not have him wear chains and of course, he was not executed. He was actually treated very well, being raised as Roman. If things were left at that, there would not have been any problems, but Caesar could not content himself with only going that far. Several of the paintings depicted scenes that showed the assorted demises of Caesar’s enemies. Scipio was portrayed drowning at the hands of Sittius, Petreius in his duel with Juba and subsequent suicide, but I think the painting of Cato was the most distressing to the crowd. Caesar had spared no detail, showing both Cato’s initial attempt at suicide and the most grisly version of how he actually died. I have to say that whoever the artist was, he went to great lengths to show him pulling his guts out and throwing them about, so much so that even for a crowd as hardened to scenes of bloodshed as this, it was too much. The boos this time were loud and long, raining down on us from the crowd, causing us to look at each other with some concern. The crowd did not seem to be particularly inclined to violence, but with such a massive group of people, one never knew. I was marching back with the 10th, this time in my spot as Primus Pilus, so I was closer to the crowd and the expressions on their faces were ugly, their anger at the scenes that passed them by very raw and real. As we learned later, there was even more of a reaction from men closer to Caesar’s class than from those lining the streets. As Caesar entered the Circus Maximus, passing along the benches that were reserved for the Tribunes of the Plebs, all but one of them came to their feet as custom dictated. The man who refused to stand was one Pontius Aquila, which Caesar did not like one bit. There was an exchange of angry words between them, though I did not learn what was said, but while Aquila was the most visible in his disagreement with what Caesar had done, he was far from the only one. Still, Caesar was the undisputed master of Rome and the entire Republic, while the dissenters were in the vast minority and their protests little but a whisper, so if you had told me then what was to come, I would have laughed. There was still work to do, for both Caesar and the army, while many of us would be going home again as we had hoped, just not in the way we had planned.
Chapter 9- Munda
As the 20 days of festivities came to an end, it was not all good news for Caesar and by extension, the army. Pompey’s sons had escaped to Hispania after Pharsalus, where Pompey was still revered, his name carrying much weight with people. Almost immediately, two of the Legions, the men of the 2nd and Indigena, promptly declared for the sons of Pompey. Not helping matters had been the behavior of Quintus Cassius, who Caesar left behind as governor of the province three years earlier. He had been governor in Hispania before that, and during his first term acted with great avarice and cruelty towards the population. Apparently, he decided to pick up where he left off when he came back. I will not enumerate all of his crimes, but they were many and varied, the common belief being that he was his own worst enemy. He had died some time before, yet the rancor and bitterness he left behind was sufficient to make people throwing their allegiance to the Pompeys an easy choice. Caesar had left the 21st and 30th behind in Hispania and there was a dilectus for the 3rd Legion so it was full of raw youngsters. Commanded by Pedius, he was co-commander of the entire force with Fabius, but the 2nd, Indigena and the 1st, which had escaped once again, from Thapsus this time, was composed of veterans. Therefore, Caesar sent explicit instructions not to engage with the Pompeians. The Pompey brothers, Gnaeus and Sextus, were joined by Labienus, who just did not have the good grace to die, along with a number of other vermin who had managed to save their skins in Africa. The Pompey name created a stir of excitement in Hispania, culminating in the city of Corduba declaring for Pompey because of the crimes of Cassius, despite the fact that both were dead. About two weeks after the triumphs, at the morning briefing, we were given orders to make the men ready to march to Hispania, an order that was not unexpected, given all that we had heard about developments there, yet it was troubling nonetheless. When I was relaying the orders back to the officers of the 10th, there were a number of looks exchanged between the Centurions, but for several moments, nobody said anything.