~ ~ ~ ~
Our first mission was to take Oricum, which lay about 25 miles to the northwest, at the base of a deep inlet that provided a sheltered harbor for the Pompeians. The only way to approach was by a roundabout route that followed a dry riverbed through steep mountains, actually heading east before gradually turning in the direction of the town. As we set off, Caesar ordered the fleet, commanded by a general named Calenus to go back to get the next wave. The 10th was the vanguard, and it was not long before we were huffing and puffing because of the steep climb up from the beach. Taking a look back, in the growing light I could see the rest of the army hundreds of feet below, looking like a group of well-organized ants waiting their turn to begin the climb up the trail. The path we were following was little better than a sheep track, forcing us to move single file for large stretches of time, making the going very slow. By the time we descended from the hills onto the plain that surrounds the landward side of Oricum, the sun was high in the sky. We had to halt to wait for the rest of the army making its way over the track to join us, so we took advantage of the delay by eating a quick meal and resting a bit, stretching out, and using our gear as a pillow. With the men resting as we waited, I walked with Crastinus and some of the other Centurions to take a look at the fort that was situated in the western corner of the inlet, with the water to the north and a steep ridge to the west. The water of the bay was a striking deep blue, and there were a number of ships of all types anchored there. As was usual in such cases, there was a town hard by the walls of the fort, although I do not know which came first. Even from where we stood, we could see that the walls of the town were lined with people watching us, although we could not tell if they were soldiers or civilians.
“That’s going to be a tough nut to crack,” commented Crastinus. He pointed to the possible approaches. “To get to the fort, we’re going to have to cross in front of the walls of the town, which will expose us to fire.” Shifting his attention, he indicated the town. “But if we take the town first, we’re not only going to have to worry about fighting in the streets, we’ll have to keep at least one Legion and more likely two in reserve to watch for any sortie from the fort.”
“Unless they commit their forces to defending the town and abandon the fort,” I suggested. “Then we’ll have to commit everything to the assault on the town or it’s likely we won’t even get over the wall.”
“What we don’t know is what quality of troops are in the garrison.” This came from a swarthy Centurion from the First Cohort named Plinius, another of the men who had been recalled by Caesar.
“We have to assume they’re some of Pompey’s veterans,” Crastinus replied grimly.
Our scouting trip had been sobering and when we returned to the army, the last of the first wave was descending from the track, falling into their designated spots. Crastinus went to report to Caesar what we had seen while the rest of us returned to our respective Cohorts, kicking them awake and on their feet. Shortly after we landed, Caesar freed a prisoner that he had brought with us, a patrician named Rufus who had been a Legate of one of Pompey’s Legions, with instructions to go find Pompey, making one last offer of a peace settlement. There was considerable wagering about the outcome of his mission, most of the money being placed on the mission failing. Meanwhile, after receiving Crastinus’ report, Caesar gathered his staff and all his panoply together, including the lictors he was entitled to by virtue of his Proconsular authority, and approached the walls of the town to parley. As we stood watching, he rode with grave and stately dignitas towards the walls, which had grown even more packed with people, waiting to see what their fate would be.
~ ~ ~ ~
The parley lasted less than a third of a watch. At the end of it, the gates of the town were thrown open, surrendering without a fight. Simply put, the citizens of the town were not willing to wage war against a Consul of Rome and the garrison commander, Torquatus was his name, was forced to capitulate. With the fate of the town and fort settled, we were given orders to make camp outside the walls, and access to the town was put off-limits. For once, the grumbling was muted; we were all tired from the rough march through the hills and thankful for the rest. The next morning we set out, marching north along the bay, leaving the 27th behind to man the fort and town in the event that any of Pompey’s fleet decided to show up. Our next goal was Apollonia, taking two days of hard marching to reach, but when we did, the result was the same; the townspeople refused to resist a Consul of Rome and the commander of the town was forced to surrender. In quick succession, the towns of Bylis and Amantia followed suit, and we began to think that perhaps this war could be won without any bloodshed after all. The next objective was the site of Pompey’s main supply depot at Dyrrhachium, some 70 miles away, and we made haste to reach it before Pompey did.
Chapter 3- Dyrrhachium
There were three rivers that we had to cross, although once we were past the mountain ranges ringing Oricum, the terrain was almost flat. Unfortunately, along with the offer of a truce, that bastard Rufus also brought a warning to Pompey that we were approaching. Learning that Apollonia was lost, Pompey turned his army to Dyrrhachium, giving orders for a forced march. In his advantage was the fact that they were marching on the Via Egnatia, while we had to cross open ground, thereby taking longer, even when the terrain was flat. The rivers also delayed us, since we had to scout for fords rather than stop long enough to build bridges. That also would have taken too long because of the lack of timber in the area. Consequently, Pompey’s army beat us to Dyrrhachium and we were greeted by the sight of the tail end of his army reaching the walls of the city while all we could do was watch in frustration. The only heartening sight was the obvious disorganization and seeming panic in the movements of Pompey’s army; as we would learn later, the green troops that comprised a large part of his army had taken fright at the sight of us, turning the march to Dyrrhachium into a wholesale flight to the safety of the city. Pompey ordered his army to set up camp outside the walls, while Caesar actually withdrew us some distance away to set up our own camp on the south side of the Apsus River that runs east and west to the sea. Now that the race was over and Pompey had won, Caesar gave orders that we would remain here for the winter and we would be joined by the rest of the army as soon as it was ferried over. To that end, we began building a fortified winter camp. With some of us working on the camp, others went foraging, since we had not brought much in the way of food. The news that we would be spending the winter was met with some grumbling, because this was in direct contradiction to what Caesar had told the army when he asked them to leave their excess baggage. I was not happy because Zeno had been left behind, meaning that all the paperwork fell on my and Scribonius’ shoulders, and one does not realize how much someone else does until they are not around to do it. But we had our orders, and we worked diligently to prepare for a lengthy stay.