Realizing that my career and perhaps my life hung on the next words out of my mouth, I chose them carefully. “What I meant, Caesar, was that in a conference of the Centurions, one of them brought up the men’s dissatisfaction with the bonus situation, and thought that it was possible that it would be the bonus that served as the spark that lit the fire, as it were.”
I went on to relay the entire conversation as I remembered it.
“When did this happen?” His tone was sharp, but I sensed that his anger was easing.
“Less than a watch before you gave the order to march.”
“And you didn't think it sufficiently important to come to me with this piece of news?”
His tone was not accusatory, seemingly more curious than angry, but now I found was getting annoyed; the position Caesar was putting me in was patently unfair.
“With all due respect, General, it wasn’t my place to do so. That kind of information should have been passed to you by the Primus Pilus, not from any of the Pili Priores. That would have been outside the chain of command.”
He nodded thoughtfully, then said, “And if Crastinus were still alive, I have no doubt he would have come and told me. Torquatus. .?”
He shrugged and did not finish the sentence, but I could tell by the expression on his face and his body language that Torquatus was not likely to be in the slot of Primus Pilus very long. A sudden thought struck me, and again I felt weak in the knees but for an entirely different reason. Could it be, I wondered, that Caesar plans on making me Primus Pilus? When I was promoted to Pilus Prior, it had been a surprise then, so why not now? I did my best to contain my excitement as I waited to hear what Caesar had on his mind, but it was clear that Caesar was not finished going over the events of the last two days yet, and he turned back to it.
“I understand that your Optio, Domitius isn’t it, was one of the officers who sided with the men?”
I was not sure where this was going, but I would not lie to him, so I answered him that Caesar had the rights of it.
“And if I remember correctly, you and he have been friends since childhood, true?” I could not hide my look of astonishment that he would know this, but he laughed and said, “What? You don't think that I know the backgrounds of the men I appoint to the Centurionate? Besides,” he finished, “you two were hard to miss. You were an unlikely pair, at least from appearances sake, you being so large and he being so. .”
He did not finish for there was no need since I knew exactly what he spoke about. Vibius and I had taken a lot of abuse over the years because of our physical mismatch, so it was no surprise when Caesar mentioned it.
His face turned serious as he continued questioning me. “I also understand that you drew your blade on him when he made his feelings known. Is that true as well?”
When it was put like that, I experienced a sense of shame, but it was nothing more than the truth, and I said as much. Caesar said nothing for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the map laid before him on the table, yet I do not think he was looking at it.
Finally, he looked up and directly into my eyes. “Would you have struck him down if the circumstances had warranted it?”
“Yes.”
I said it before I thought the question through, and it felt like I was punched in the gut when the word came out, because I knew it was the truth. I would have struck down the best friend I had ever had, a companion since childhood, and I did not, nor do I now know what that says about me.
Caesar’s reaction was to stare into my eyes for a moment before giving a simple nod. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty, Pullus. I know that that couldn't have been easy for you.” Turning, he began pacing about the room and continued, “So now we come to the matter which I wanted to speak with you about. There was a reason I asked about you and Domitius, which I will explain in a moment. Suffice it to say that I'm somewhat wary about who I can trust out of my Centurions, and who I cannot. I've made a vow to continue my pursuit of Pompey, and I will not be deterred by anyone or anything. However, the refusal of the army to march has put me on the horns of a dilemma in a manner of speaking. While we have either killed or accepted the surrender of a large part of Pompey’s army, by our intelligence estimates, he still has about three Legions’ worth of men, composed mainly of men from the 1st, 4th, and 6th, along with about 5,000 auxiliaries, although as you saw on the field their quality is very low, and about a thousand cavalry.”
He turned to see if I had digested this information, and I nodded for him to continue.
“Now, I know that Pompey actually left camp with only four, perhaps five men, and shortly afterward was joined by about 30 cavalry and perhaps a Century of men as he fled to Larisa. And that’s one reason, albeit a minor one, why the army refuses to march. Why should I force several thousand exhausted men to tap further into what reserves of energy they have left to chase down less than a hundred men? It is a fair question.”
He put the elbow of one arm in a cupped hand to tap his lips with his index finger, as if he was giving the matter serious thought, but I knew it was just a show. He had already thought this through, except Caesar was at heart a performer, among other things, and he could not help himself at times like this.
“But herein lays my dilemma. As a general, I can't operate on the assumption that those three Legions won't march to join Pompey. In fact, they may be doing just that even as we speak. The same goes for the auxiliaries; even with their poor quality, there is something to be said for their numbers. Therefore, it wouldn't be prudent of me to go chasing after Pompey with just my bodyguard and whatever scraps I could muster up. I need good hard men, veterans who know their business. That was why I ordered the army to march, because I thought I could count on them. That was where I went wrong, obviously.”
He finished this statement through clenched teeth, and I could see his anger was beginning to come back as he touched on the sore in his mind that was what had happened. It took him a moment to compose himself, then sighed and in that sound I could hear all the weariness and turmoil that came with being Gaius Julius Caesar.
“So now I must choose between breaking my vow, or finding another group of men who I can count on to march with me, and I believe that I have found them. And that's where you come in.”
He looked at me to gauge my reaction, but in truth, I had no idea how I was supposed to react. The only thing I was sure of now was that this was not about making me Primus Pilus of the 10th, because he had already given the order for the 10th to return to Italy, and up until moments before I thought I was going with them. So I just waited for him to continue, which seemed to irritate him a bit.
“Do you know about the two Cohorts of the 6th who have sworn their allegiance to me?”
I nodded; it was common knowledge that during the battle, the 4th and all but two Cohorts of the 6th had managed to cross the river and escape. These two Cohorts were completely surrounded and prepared to fight to the last man, but the men of the 8th and 9th were looking at fellow Spaniards, and began calling to Antonius to offer them the chance to surrender honorably, which Antonius offered and the men of the 6th took. Then Caesar offered them clemency in exchange for their agreement to fight for him, which they agreed to do, under the condition that once the war was over they would be allowed to take their discharges, just like the 7th 8th and 9th, all of whom were part of the same dilectus. Caesar agreed to these terms, although I would be lying if I said that it had not crossed my mind that the men of the 6th were essentially running the same risk of having what happened to the 7th, 8th, and 9th happen to them. Regardless, desperate men could not be choosy men, and that apparently worked for both parties, because Caesar was as desperate in his own way as the men of the 6th.