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Mithradates, the son of the great king Mithridates who had been an enemy of Rome for many years, was the man marching to our relief. He was bringing the 27th Legion, marching overland to the port of Ascalon, a few hundred miles east of Egypt, the 27th being ordered to march from Asia by General Domitius. Mithradates had raised a force of archers himself, with the Nabataeans sending a contingent of cavalry, but Mithradates did not believe that this force was sizable enough to complete a march through enemy territory, since he would have to reduce a number of garrisons on the way. This caused Mithradates to pause in Ascalon for several weeks, but finally he began his march again, and with this message, the courier ship was dispatched. By this time, the new year had begun; the Consuls for that year were Quintus Fufius Calenus and Publius Vatinius, Caesar’s men, of course. We had been in Alexandria for almost seven months, and much had happened, not least of which being that young Cleopatra was now pregnant with Caesar’s child. That kept the tongues around the fires wagging, I can tell you!
Coming with Mithradates was Antipater, a king of the Jews, or whatever they call their leader, bringing 3,000 Jewish soldiers with him. This force now made its way west, heading to our relief, composed of about 12,000 men total. Between them and us was the city and fortress of Pelusium, sitting at the eastern border of Egypt. While Mithradates could have bypassed the fort, it would have put a force in his rear; therefore, he halted his army, encircled the city, and reduced it in a day. Leaving behind a garrison to hold the city and guard the prisoners taken, Mithradates continued marching. News of his approach reached both Roman and Egyptian ears, with equally emotional but violently opposing sentiments. Immediately upon hearing this, Ptolemy ordered a scratch force of regulars composed of the remaining Gabinians and militia to march east to confront and destroy Mithradates. By this time, Mithradates had entered the Nile Delta, and while there, he was approached by a delegation of Jewish and Egyptian citizens of Memphis, the traditional home of the Pharaohs of Egypt before Alexander came and changed everything. They offered Mithradates free entrance to the city, with the sizable Jewish population also providing Antipater a large number of soldiers to bolster his forces, bringing the numbers of the Jewish contingent to about five thousand. With these reinforcements, Mithradates began marching down the Nile towards Alexandria, which ironically meant that he was marching north instead of the normal south, with the river to his left. Marching to meet him, the Egyptian commander, our old friend Dioscorides, was informed by Ptolemy that defeat of Mithradates was not crucial to success; delaying his force would be enough, because our supply situation had become extremely critical. Ptolemy’s reasoning was that there was no need to waste men on an assault when starvation and the resulting weakness that came with it would do the work for him. All in all, it was not a bad plan, and one that came very close to working.
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I was summoned to headquarters in the afternoon one day, where I learned that there had been a battle between Mithradates and Dioscorides. Despite the Egyptians being repulsed, the defeat was not decisive enough to move the Egyptian army out of Mithradates’ path. The enemy had encamped, directly blocking the line of march for our reinforcements, and now the two sides were staring at each other from behind their respective ramparts. Both Mithradates and Dioscorides sent dispatches to their respective commanding generals apprising them of the situation and it was this message that was the cause for my summons.
“Prepare your men for march, Primus Pilus.”
Appolonius handed me the wax tablet with my written orders.
As I read them, Appolonius continued, “We're embarking on ships, and we're going to head east towards the Delta, but once it grows dark, we're going to turn back west to sail past Alexandria and land to the west of the city. Then we're going to march overland to link up with Mithradates. Our goal is to meet up with Mithradates without a fight. Be prepared to board in one watch.”
I ran back to our area, my mind racing with all the things that needed to be done. Thankfully, the years spent with Caesar had taught me to keep the men prepared to move at a moment’s notice, but it was still a daunting task. I called a quick meeting of the Centurions, giving them their orders and listening to the inevitable groans of dismay and claims that what Caesar was asking was impossible, before they ran off to their respective Centuries to get them moving. Three Cohorts of the 28th, plus the auxiliaries that came with the 37th were going to be left behind to man the defenses, but this was not going to be a surreptitious move; Caesar wanted the Egyptians to be well aware that we were leaving. The enemy had their own agenda, their courier arriving at roughly the same time as ours, bearing the same news. This meant that both sides were absorbed in the task of preparing to move out, easing the burden of maintaining vigilance against any sortie by either side. We would be marching with our full kit, including entrenching tools. Despite the short preparation time, I could see that the men were excited. After being ground down by the mind-numbing routine of what was essentially garrison duty, even with the added danger of the almost daily attacks against our lines by the Egyptians and the stress of short rations, the idea of going on the march again actually filled the men with enthusiasm. Normally they would have been complaining about the idea of a forced march, but it was a sign of their boredom that they were extremely cheerful, going about their tasks with gusto. The added incentive was the belief on the part of the men that we were nearing the end of this ordeal; with the reinforcements provided by Mithradates, we were all confident that we would crush the Egyptians, and be free to go home. Consequently, the men were finished packing and forming up almost a sixth part of a watch early, whereupon we marched down to the docks without any problem, the Egyptians being busy with their own preparations. The sun was setting, so Caesar ordered large fires built to enable the Egyptians clearly to see what we were doing. Filing on board, I was thankful that either Caesar or Appolonius had the foresight to segregate us from the 28th, since nothing good could have come of my and Cartufenus’ men being crammed together in the hold of a transport for any period of time. It was dark by the time we were all fully loaded and departed the Great Harbor, heading east with every lantern on every ship blazing forth, ensuring that the Egyptians could clearly see where we were headed. Hugging the coast, the fleet headed east for perhaps two parts of a watch before the order was given to douse the lanterns and we turned about to head west, swinging out of sight of the coast when we passed Alexandria. Naturally, this made the men nervous, but the seas were calm and we made it past the city without incident, landing several miles to the west at Chersonesus shortly after dawn.
Disembarking as quickly as possible under the circumstances, we began marching immediately, with the months of relative inactivity and the heat, even now in early March making the problem of men straggling something that the Centurions had to be especially vigilant about. The knowledge that any man who dropped out would be left to the tender mercies of the Egyptians and the desert was enough to keep men from dropping out altogether. The farthest any man dropped out was the rear of the column, where there was a Nabataean cavalry contingent marching drag. Caesar set his usual cracking pace, and we covered the flat ground quickly, choking through the thick dust that soon covered us from head to foot, the sounds of the men coughing and spitting out mouthfuls of sand ranging up and down the column. My eyes were burning, the grit under my eyelids making the continuous blinking I had to do to clear my eyes an agony, and my nose was clogged, no matter how often I tried to blow it clean, yet there was no slackening of the pace. Caesar chose to forego the standard break every third of a watch, marching us for a full watch before pausing for perhaps a sixth part. The men collapsed where they halted, grabbing for their canteens to wash their mouths out, while trying to snatch a few moments of sleep. Like most veterans, they fell asleep immediately, using their packs as a pillow, the air soon filled with the sound of snoring and mumbled conversations between the few men who could not sleep. I wished that I could do the same, but I had to get a head count and find the stragglers wherever they had stopped in the column to boot them in the ass to make them catch back up. Knowing as I did that the men who fell out would simply fall out again shortly after we resumed marching with those who were recovering from wounds or had been on the sick list, I was not as strict about making them spend some of the rest break rejoining their comrades. However, there were men who were as healthy as the rest of their comrades who simply were lazy. After all these years, these men were the best of the malingerers, the smartest of that portion of a Legion composed of men whose sole purpose in life is to do as little as possible and not get caught. Their slower, dumber, and less crafty counterparts had long since been winnowed out; by either being too slow in battle or deserting, or in some cases, being caught in a serious enough crime to be executed. What was left were the cream of the crop of the do-nothings; the shirkers and tricksters who could conjure their way onto a sick list, or mysteriously disappear when a work party was called. These were the men that I went looking for, kicking them to their feet, shoving them up the column. Resuming the march, we plodded across the barren terrain, the lake that rings the southern side of Alexandria barely visible on the horizon to our left. Once night fell, we made camp in the usual manner, although cutting turf blocks in the sandy soil was quite a challenge, while the men barely had the energy to chew what little rations we brought with us before retiring in their tents, not spending any time around their fire. I was as exhausted as the men, as were the rest of the Centurions, and it was times like these that I was thankful to lead such a veteran group of men, for they made my job much easier.