The Turn of the Tide, page 25
part #7 of Soldier of the Republic Series
“Camp prefect,” Flavius said, raising his eyebrows as he turned to eye the centurion who had blocked him from handing over Scipio’s letter. “That’s fantastic news. You have done well for yourself. I am glad. But maybe you could help me with something.”
“Sure,” Naevius replied. “Anything for a fellow colonist from Placentia. What brings you here Flavius?”
“Private business,” Flavius said. “I work for Publius Cornelius Scipio now. There is an election coming up soon, for the general who will take command in Spain. I am helping Scipio win that vote. So I came here to try to speak to Flaccus and hand him a letter from Scipio asking for his support. But your centurion over there refused to allow me to see the pro consul.”
Gazing back at him the grin on Naevius’s face slowly faded. For a moment the big tall man said nothing, before sheepishly turning to eye the centurion standing outside the pro consuls tent.
“Scipio,” Naevius said in a changed voice. “Yes, I heard that Scipio intends to run for the Spanish command.” For a moment Naevius paused. “The officer over there has strict instructions to prevent anyone who is not known from seeing Flaccus,” he said at last. “I cannot help you in this matter Flavius. The rules are in place for a good reason. There is a security issue.”
“I see,” Flavius replied sounding disappointed. “A security issue? You are right about that. What is going on around here? When I arrived just now I nearly ran straight into Capuan cavalry up the road. The enemy were chasing our men as if they owned the countryside and your soldiers near the gate nearly killed me with their scorpion. Those boys over there look as nervous as rabbits with the smell of a fox in the air, and here I was thinking that it was us besieging Capua and not the other way around.”
“The siege is effective, but we are facing some challenges,” Naevius said, turning to eye Flavius with a guarded look, his smile gone. “What you witnessed has been going on for some time now. We have three main camps surrounding the city. Flaccus is here blocking the via Appia to the north. The other pro consul Appius Claudius is blocking the city from the south west and there is a third camp blocking the via Appia to the south of Capua. We have eight legions, thirty-five thousand men. But like I said, we do not have it all our own way. The Capuan cavalry are superior to our own. They are just better horsemen. Our riders cannot stand up to them. It means that the Capuans and the Punic garrison have some degree of mobility and control outside the walls of their city, but they lack the strength to break the siege and we are working on a plan to neutralise their cavalry superiority.”
“I was told that Hannibal is marching north to relieve Capua,” Flavius said looking grave.
“Yes,” Naevius said with a tight little nod. “He is. We are expecting him to arrive in the next couple of days or so, and once he does the battle for Capua is going to be decided one way or the other. There is going to be one hell of a fight, for the prize is a great one. Capua is the second city in Italy. If it falls so, do the hopes of all those Italians who wish to see Rome destroyed. You sure have chosen a fine moment to come here Flavius.”
For a moment Flavius said nothing, as he somberly gazed at the mass of tents occupying the heart of the Roman camp.
“I still need to get across to the other camp,” he said at last. “I still have a job to do. I need to present Scipio’s letter to the pro consul Appius Claudius. Maybe he will see me if Flaccus won’t. That is what I came here to do.”
“Alright I understand,” Naevius said breezily, folding his arms across his massive chest. “You have to do what you have to do. But listen. Maybe I can help you after all. It would be a shame to let down a fellow colonist and a friend. Appius’s camp is only two miles away and I am heading over there myself, so I will come with you and provide you with a mounted escort if that makes you feel better. Maybe I can get you to see the pro consul.”
***
Eyeing Naevius, as the giant of a man finally emerged from Appius’s tent and came towards him, Flavius stood holding onto his horse’s reins, his cloak spattered with dried mud. Around him the bustle and activity of the Roman camp continued unperturbed. It was late in the afternoon and to the east, in the direction of the city of Capua, he could hear a Roman trumpet. Standing nearby, the eight mounted men who had formed his escort were chatting quietly to each other, as they held onto their mounts, waiting for their boss to reappear. As Naevius came up, Flavius studied his friend with a patient questioning look.
“Alright, I have had a word,” Naevius said in a grave voice. “You are in luck. Appius is busy but he will see you now if you make it quick. Appius is a good man. He has a good heart if you know what I mean. Unlike some of these aristocrats. Now I am going to need your knife and I shall wait for you here - but we need to be back in Flaccus’s camp before nightfall. It is too dangerous for small parties of men to leave the camp after that. The Capuans and their Punic allies are constantly probing our siege lines - especially during darkness.”
“Thank you,” Flavius said, sounding grateful as he handed Naevius his knife and then quickly grasped hold of Naevius’s shoulder before limping off towards the tent entrance. As he was shown inside by one of the pro consul’s bodyguards, Flavius blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. Standing hunched over a table in the middle of the tent, upon which lay a large parchment map, was not one but two soldiers. One was white haired and looked to be the pro consul, while the other was older with a bald head and quick crafty eyes. There seemed to be something vaguely familiar about the bald man Flavius thought - as if he had seen him somewhere before. But he couldn’t remember where. The two officers were clad for war, their splendid bright metal body armour gleaming in the firelight coming from a burning brazier. As Flavius came in, both looked up at him with stern expressions as if they already knew the nature and purpose of his visit.
“Yes,” the white-haired man snapped impatiently, gazing at Flavius.
Addressing himself to Appius, Flavius quickly cleared his throat and inclined his head in a respectful gesture.
“Pro Consul. I have come from Rome on a private matter for my patron Publius Cornelius Scipio,” Flavius began. “I bring a letter from Scipio for you Sir. Will you read it?” he added proffering the small sealed wooden tablet.
“Ah yes, you work for Scipio,” Appius said straightening up. “Naevius mentioned that you did. He is a good man young Scipio. I know him well. We both fought at Cannae and both of us escaped with our lives. He and I rallied many other survivors to the Republic after that horrible defeat. We did good work together. Tell me, have you read the contents of the letter that he now sends me?”
“I have not Sir,” Flavius replied. “But I know what it says. My patron asks for your support in the upcoming election - for the Spanish command. He feels that it is his duty to go to Spain to avenge his father and uncle.”
“Well. Well,” Appius said in a neutral voice. “Did you hear that Nero,” he added glancing at the bald officer standing beside him. “I do believe that young Scipio wishes to deny you your chance to go to Spain. It appears that you have competition for the job.”
“Scipio is not going to win the vote,” Claudius Nero said in a confident voice staring at Flavius with a cold amused smile. “The senate is backing me for the job. Your patron appears to be desperate, if he has sent you this far to beg for support. I am afraid that you have wasted your time by coming here.”
For a moment Flavius was unable to formulate a reply, as he stared at Claudius Nero in complete surprise. He had not been expecting to meet Scipio’s arch-rival. Then at last, recovering from his shock, he shifted his eyes to Appius, while still proffering the small wooden letter.
“Please Sir, will you read Scipio’s letter,” Flavius said in a determined voice. “As a favour to your old comrade. Scipio would be very grateful. Our campaign needs all the support we can get.”
“Yes, I will read it,” Appius said as he took the letter and quickly checked the wax seal. “But it won’t change my mind. Nero here has my vote. He is the right candidate for the job and he will go to Spain. Now you have done your job you can leave. I have rather more important matters to attend to right now.”
As Flavius emerged from the tent looking troubled, he caught sight of Naevius watching him. For a brief moment Flavius thought he detected something hard and unsympathetic in his friends’ eyes. But as he approached Naevius simply turned to his bodyguards calling for them to mount up.
“How did it go?” Naevius said at last, avoiding looking at him as he, Flavius and the eight troopers trotted out of the gate.
“Well Appius agreed to take the letter,” Flavius muttered. “But I don’t think Scipio has won him over and there was something else. Claudius Nero was there. Did you not know that Nero intends to also run for the Spanish command? That man is the senate’s candidate - the arch-rival of my patron.”
“Ah, shit happens,” Naevius said with a shrug without meeting Flavius’s gaze. “Still, you did your job. It’s done. When we get back to my camp - stay with us tonight. It is too late in the day for you to set out now for Rome and it would be good to hear all the news from Placentia. You can fill me in with what has been happening. I have not been back to the old colony in two years.”
***
Dawn had come and Flavius was standing beside his horse, preparing to leave Flaccus’s camp. Reaching up to gently rub his horse’s flanks, he paused for a moment turning instead to gaze at the mass of white Roman army tents standing in their neat straight rows. He had done what he had come to do, but the results of his mission appeared to be disappointing. Still, it had been good to catch up with Naevius. The big man seemed to have enjoyed their conversation around the fire last night but as he stared at the tents, Flavius frowned. And yet. Something was not quite right. It was as if Naevius was deliberately withholding something from him. For a moment he stared absentmindedly at the tents. Then, shaking himself out of it, he reached up to take the reins and started to walk his horse to the gates. But as he approached Flavius saw that the camp gates were firmly shut. The guard too appeared to have been doubled.
“What’s going on? I need to leave. Open the gates,” Flavius called out to the tesserarius in command of the watch detachment.
“No one leaves the camp,” the watch commander replied. “New orders. No one is to leave without express prior permission.”
“What?” Flavius replied with a frown. “But I am a civilian. I have to leave. I need to get back to Rome.”
“I don’t give a shit who you are old man or where you want to go,” the tesserarius growled. “No one leaves the camp without specific written orders. Absolutely no one. Got that.”
“Says who?”
“The camp prefect. That’s who.”
“Naevius,” Flavius exclaimed in disbelief, as he stared at the watch commander.
“Is there another camp prefect?” The man retorted in a sarcastic voice, shaking his head as he turned away.
For a moment Flavius did not move. He had not been expecting this. He appeared to be trapped but why was Naevius not allowing him to leave? There was only one way he was going to find out. Angrily turning his horse around he stomped off towards the camp prefect’s tent.
“What’s going on? You are not letting anyone leave the camp?” Flavius called out, as he led his horse towards the spot around the small campfire where Naevius was sitting eating his porridge breakfast. Spotting him, Naevius calmly rose to his feet, still holding his bowl and spoon as he coolly observed Flavius.
“No one is to leave the camp without my permission,” Naevius said. “I am the camp prefect. I am in charge of everything that goes on inside this camp. Is there a problem Flavius?”
“Yes, there is a problem,” Flavius retorted. “I want to leave but your men are preventing me from doing so. I am a civilian. What am I supposed to do here? I am trapped.”
“I am sorry about that my friend,” Naevius said, his eyes gleaming strangely. “But I cannot make any exceptions. You will just have to stay here with us for a while - until the security situation becomes clearer.”
“And how long is that going to be?”
“I don’t know,” Naevius replied calmly. “Maybe a few days, perhaps a week. I suggest that you find yourself a place to sleep and something useful to do to keep the boredom at bay. There are always jobs around the camp for a master carpenter like yourself. Maybe you should go and see my quartermaster and chief engineer. He always has work - things that need fixing.”
“I am not looking for a fucking job,” Flavius retorted. “I want to leave and get back to Rome. I am a civilian.”
“Listen,” Naevius said slightly raising his voice. “No one leaves the camp without my permission. No one forced you to come here - you did that on your own accord - but now that you are in my camp you will obey just like any soldier. There will be no exceptions. Is that clear?”
For a moment Flavius did not reply, his angry eyes fixed on his friend. “Why are you doing this? Has this something to do with the upcoming election? Are you punishing me for something?”
And as Flavius spoke, he once again recognised that hardness, that unsympathetic look in Naevius’s eyes.
“You should not have come here trying to peddle your politics Flavius,” Naevius snapped at last, his mask crumbling. “But that was your mistake, not mine. The senate have agreed that Nero shall go to Spain and when he does, I am going with him. I am going to go to Spain to make myself a fortune and no one, not even you, my friend, are going to stand in my way. It has all already been agreed. Nero will win the vote. He will go to Spain and when I get the chance I am going to make some serious money over there. That is how it is going to be. So, I suggest that you think about that during the next few days while you are my guest. You are a good man Flavius and I have enjoyed our chats, but don’t get in my way over this. You won’t like having me as an enemy.”
Chapter Nineteen - The Turn of the Tide
“Right here you are,” Flavius said, as he handed the repaired shield back to the grateful soldier. “And remember. When the time comes you know who to vote for right – Scipio is the man. Spread the word among your comrades.”
“I will Sir. Much obliged,” the soldier replied as he turned and walked away, carrying his shield that Flavius had repaired for him. Stretching - Flavius sighed, as he turned to look at the pile of military equipment that was waiting to be repaired and the small patient queue of soldiers. It was morning and several days had passed since his last conversation with Naevius. The camp prefect appeared to have been avoiding him, and that was just fine Flavius thought, with a tinge of residual anger. He could probably have slipped over the wall during the night, but without his horse it would have been a long walk back to Rome. So, he had decided to remain in the Roman camp. Boredom however had finally got to him and with no official duties he had put his skilled hands to some use – offering to repair the soldier’s equipment. In return the grateful men had shared their food with him.
Turning his head as he heard a commotion at the gates, Flavius frowned. A few moments later a Roman cavalry patrol came galloping into the camp. The riders appeared to be in a hurry. As the horsemen thundered away towards the principia, the centre of the camp where Flaccus and the senior officers had their tents, Flavius’s eyed them with sudden concern.
Seeing him watching the horsemen, one of the young soldiers standing at the head of the queue of men waiting to have their equipment repaired, spoke up. “The Campanians Sir. Naevius has found a way in which to defeat their cavalry patrols. We mount our javelin armed skirmishers on horses. Then, when they approach the enemy cavalry the men dismount and shower the Capuan horse with volley after volley of spears.”
“That sounds like something Hannibal would do,” Flavius replied sourly, as he turned his attention back to the soldier’s dodgy spear head – examining it with an expert eye. “Tricks. Feints. Ambushes. Our soldiers have learned much from the enemy. The Carthaginian has been a great teacher.”
“Where did you serve, old man?” Another soldier called out as he stood waiting in the queue.
“Telamon,” Flavius replied. “Among other places. When I stood in the line facing the Gaesatae at Telamon, those Gaul’s just wanted to fight. They didn’t care against who. Some of those mercenary warriors went into battle stark naked. They did that to show their contempt for death. Bravest men I have ever seen. But foolish too. We slaughtered them. So, boys,” Flavius added, lifting his head and turning to eye the young soldiers. “Don’t try and be a fucking hero. No one ever wins a war by dying for their country. We win by getting the enemy to die for theirs.”
As a smattering of amused looks appeared on the young men’s faces, the scene was suddenly and rudely interrupted by the blaring of a Roman trumpet. Instantly Flavius froze as he recognised the signal. It was the call to arms – a general alert. For a moment nothing happened. Then, cursing and crying out to each other, the queue of waiting soldiers abruptly broke apart as the men scattered, racing back to their units and posts.
Turning his eyes towards the gate, Flavius took a deep breath. The call to arms could mean only one thing. The enemy were advancing to the attack. There was going to be a fight. But being a civilian with no specific task to do, he had no instructions. What did they expect him to do?
“Old man,” a soldier suddenly cried out as he rushed back up to him. “You are going to need this,” he added, tossing a large infantry shield and a spear at Flavius. “Stay alive, Sir.”
Reaching down, Flavius quickly lifted the shield and spear from the dust and turned to examine the weapons. It had been a long time since he had been forced to wield a scutum and spear, and an even longer time since he had been involved in a proper battle. He should not really have been here - but he was. Clutching the military equipment, he warily turned to look around. Across the camp all was in flux. The soldiers had dropped what they had been doing and were rushing back to their units, frantically arming themselves. Then once again, a Roman trumpet rang out, urgent and shrill as the noise summoned the men to their standards. Catching sight of groups of velites, lightly armed skirmishers hurriedly trooping up onto the ramparts beside the gate, Flavius bit his lip as he started towards them, limping through the chaos. Making his way up onto the earthworks, he hastened towards the northern gate by which he had entered the camp. As the scorpion crew, who had nearly accidentally killed him, recognised him and saw him coming towards them, a look of horror appeared on their teenage faces.
