So, I'm introducing another character which I'll expand on with other sketches, though his actual role will be quite schizophrenic... torturer, interrogator and spy. Meh, Romans could multitask, so why not. Anyway... hello, quaestionarius! *sigh*
PS Guess what game I've been playing eight hours a day for the last week! *pfa*
So here is the first bit of the prelude to the Siege of Carthago Nova
The thirteen of us who accompanied Publius held some reservations about the coming campaign seasons, which would have been quite understandable, but we stood by him regardless of all the holes we thought we could find in his reasoning. The fleet of a hundred and fifty or so quinqueremes, triremes and assorted transport vessels made good time. We had left in early September and would arrive later that month. The winds had been good and when we left Pisa, we reached Massilia within three days. Around me as we sailed, the other ‘Hetairoi’ (as we became known as amongst the officers that were with the two legions that we lead, thanks to our relationship with Publius and his somewhat graecophilic ways). Of the thirteen of us, only Drusus was not present. No doubt, he was already haring around Spain, hundreds of square miles of territory for him to get lost in. For all we knew, he could have been in Gades stirring unrest, or even in Carthago Nova, looking for defensive frailties. In his wisdom, Publius had given Drusus no specific mandate in mid-June, except to explore and scout as much of the Punic territory south of the Iber as possible. And knowing the quaestionarius’ predilection for knowledge ‘by any means’, we could probably have full dispositions and geographical surveys by the time e reached our destination, and none of it would be more than a few days old (and with a thin trickle of blood across the countryside to go with it).
“So, what does ‘Staff’ want me to do?” Drusus muttered as we walked along the Tiber, making sure no-one was around to overhear our conversation.
Even among the Hetairoi, Publius showed irritation at being addressed as ‘Staff’, and Drusus and Vitellus were the only two he genuinely accepted that nickname from. He even thought it below me, and I had known him longer than anyone else. Lucius could not care less, but he was so taciturn, it hardly mattered. No, Drusus was so dry in his speech that there was not the faintest hint of condescension or humour when he called Publius ‘Staff’ that it even sounded natural. Anyway, it took me a while to get over that.
“How many contacts do you have throughout Gaul and Iberia?” I asked by way of response.
“How many do you need?” he remained expressionless, but I saw the grin behind his eyes.
“I would have thought the answer to that would be obvious,” I smiled back.
“Alright, how am I supposed to get there? To Iberia, I mean.”
“Publius said by whatever means necessary, but I want you to go by land, preferably following the coast.”
“The coast? Why?”
“Carthaginian reinforcements. It will be unlikely that they’ll come from in land, since they’re slightly more secure in Cisalpine Gaul now. But hopefully those idiot Senators will devise something amongst themselves to dislodge them.”
“Likely?”
“What do you think?!”
“Very well, then, I’ll do as you say, but I’ll take my time once I reach the Iber. My colleagues will take their own route there, or already be present. Some might even twist a few thumbs amongst the pirates. Of course, were I to...”
“Yes, yes, I know how good a clandestine negotiator you are, but we need our best pair of eyes in Spain. With a distinct lack of leadership, even if Nero is there, the however many Carthaginians there can quite easily push us out with one advance across the Iber. The sooner we know what we can do, and more importantly, when, the better.”
“Understood, dear boy, we’ll call it a day,” a small smirk pulled at his mouth.
As we walked, we had neared a small group of horsemen, one of whom held the reins for another horse.
“Leaving already?” I asked.
“As you said, the sooner the better,” he said, vaulting onto his horse.
Drusus nodded to Bruttius, who nodded back and led half of the riders back towards Rome.
“Well, if they’re lucky, they’ll get a little wet,” Drusus quipped.
“When will we expect you, then?”
“When I’m expected, I imagine. You can quote me to Staff on that.”
With that, he turned his horse towards the bridge across the Tiber and led the remainder of his retainers north, towards Liguria. And so, Drusus left Latium with a handful of Gallic and Latin spies and scouts in his employ. I was fully aware of his methods, partly through educated guesswork and accidental firsthand experience as I remembered what we did leading up to the disaster at Cannae. His small merry band of cutthroats had separated into several groups of three or four, and made their way independently to the mouth of the Iber. Bruttius and his group would probably head south to one of the pirate havens and jump a ship to Aleria and on to Osca or thereabouts. Knowing Drusus, he had only given his spies rough directions to the effect of pointing and they took it at his word.
We arrived just north of Tarraco twenty-seven days after my parting with Drusus. Upon our arrival, nothing much happened, apart from Publius taking stock of the troops he now had at his disposal. We had brought over a severely under-strength legion, operating at barely half numbers. They were remnants of one of Atilius’ legions that fought at Trebbia and survived Lake Trasimene. Inexplicably, the Senate had not given him any legions, on the justification that there was a sufficient force already in Spain, so when Publius had asked for volunteers to help him take the fight to the Carthaginians, the somewhat disillusioned legionaries from the disbanded consular legions of six and seven years previous leapt on the idea of revenge. But they were a haggard band, barely two and a half thousand. The cavalry was badly hitas well, with only a hundred and twenty assembling at the muster. The remainder of our nine thousand strong force was composed of Italian allied levies who were not so taken in by Carthaginian rule, along with a number of Latin troops who had also fought in Italy. Despite all this, Publius was satisfied and announced that he was proud to lead such men. Naturally, Vitellus was given nominal command of the equites, and was now effectively a military tribune under our pro-consul.
What we found at Tarraco was much as what we brought with us. There were four legions present including ours. All of them were tremendously undermanned. One of them was essentially all that was left after the engagements that killed Publius’ father and uncle. The other two were brought over by Claudius Nero who did well in preventing the wholesale ejection of the Roman presence from Spain. All the officers and commanders finally convened on our second day, when all the ships were beached and a temporary castra had been hastily constructed.
“Well, there you have it, Publius,” Nero said, placing a tablet down, “Our army consists of a sum total of twenty-six thousand or so tired and resigned men: four legions totalling eleven thousand legionaries and eight hundred equites; two Latin legions with nine thousand mixed infantry and fifteen hundred Italian cavalry; and the rest are a motley collection of other Italians, mainly from Etruria and some from Samnium and Picenum.”
“Thank you, Nero,” the pro-consul replied, “I don’t have orders to have return you to Rome, so you may either serve with me here, or return as you choose.”
The praetor nodded.
“I know I must transfer command to you, Scipio,” he spoke slowly, “But what makes you able to command this army to victory over these Carthaginians, who are surely more numerous than what we have here?”
“Do you believe I am only here for revenge?”
“Honestly? Yes, I do. But, it is the lot of we mortals to avenge the deaths of those who were taken from us. With both pro-consuls gone from Spain who were of your blood, I understand your need to...”
“Ah, Nero, how wrong you are,” Publius held up a hand and frowned, “I am not here for revenge on my father and uncle. Do not think me so short-sighted and simple that I come for something so foolish as that. No, I am here to finish what they started, and if I have any thought of revenge, it will be for Rome. And no-one had the temerity to take this post, and I intend to make Carthage regret ever going to war against us.”
He delivered his piece in a flat monotone. I, and probably along with the Hetairoi, heard the underlying fury in his voice, just there, under the surface. The silence was broken by the flap of the marquee’s entrance. Everyone looked over and saw a haggard man standing there with dirt-ridden clothes, a scraggly beard and very unkempt hair.
“Well?” Publius asked tersely without looking away from Nero.
“Good morning,” the newcomer said.
No-one had announced him, but Publius and the Hetairoi already knew who it was. As soon as he had given us the slightly odd greeting, given the time of day it was (being the eighth hour in autumn, it was early afternoon), he spied the jug of water and instead of pouring himself a cup, he drank straight from the jug, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, picked up an apple and bit into it. The tribunes, especially Nero’s staff officers, eyed him with no small amount of disgust and Nero was about to reprimand him when Publius just held up a hand to silence any potential words of reproach against the odd man out. He helped himself to a late breakfast for several minutes. Among the Hetairoi, Lucius, Flavius and Dolabella had all left, but I could hear Lucius just outside the marquee muttering in the Gallic language with one of Drusus’ retainers. Before our spy-master had finished with his food, Publius’ brother returned, his expression revealing nothing. At last, Drusus came to the table, but had a small loaf in one hand and a gourd in the other. He finally spoke, eating all the while.
“The Carthaginians are at loggerheads amongst themselves. Hannibal’s brother, Hasdrubal, is in central Spain with thirty thousand or so, at least twelve days’ march from us. Mago Barca is in Gades with another thirty-two thousand, wallowing, from what I could tell, and Gisco is in Lisso with upwards of forty-thousand. I didn’t linger since it is more than seven days away, even for a single man and horse.”
“Lisso?” Vitellus asked, “Where’s that?”
“The Phoenicians call it Allis Ubbo, or something like that, meaning ‘safe harbour’,” I replied, tapping my chin, “And I’ve heard it called Ulyssippo. Anyway, whatever you wish to call it, it’s at the mouth of the Tagus river, on the other side of the country.”
“You’re remarkably well informed for someone who only set foot in Iberia two days ago,” Nero said, grinning.
“Still, no excuse for ignorance,” Publius muttered, “At least that answers a few questions for me. The Carthagainians are dispersed and uncomminucative, which will serve our purposes nicely. Regardless, come spring, we will have to move quickly. Anything you wish to add, Drusus?”
“Yes, even if we don’t, the Iberians will throw the Carthaginians out of here one day. It would most definitely take at least a generation or two, but many of the tribes do not take to their overlords kindly or speak well of them, privately and otherwise, regardless of measures the Barcids try to enforce.”
“That’s good to know,” Publius nodded.
Drusus nodded back, finished his drink from the gourd he was holding and made to leave.
“Excuse me,” he scratched his beard as he got to his feet.
“One thing before you go, Drusus,” I said.
“Look, Gaius,” he looked at me wearily, “I’ve been off the road for the better part of two months, so I would appreciate a few hours in a bed not constructed from earth and stone.”
“I understand, old friend, but what of Carthago Nova?” I took a step towards him.
At the mention of the Carthaginian capital in Iberia, his eyes widened, and an idea came to Publius almost at the same time. He looked down at the map, eyes darting about. Drusus went back to the map as well.
“I managed to get in, but getting out was the hard part. They found out what I was and I had to jump off the western rampart into the lagoon. That was an experience I care not to repeat.”
“Defenders?” Publius asked sharply, still studying the map of the peninsular.
“Twenty-five hundred, or at least that is what the provisions and armouries told me.”
At last, Publius looked up and nodded once to Drusus.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said, the Hetairoi present noting his tone.
“I’ll borrow Gaius from you tomorrow morning if you don’t mind,” the spy smiled tiredly, and left.
I looked at Publius and he shrugged to me.
“Well, what are we going to do now?” Nero asked, harrumphing with the exit of the quaestionarius.
“Haha! Come, gentlemen, it is time to plan our ascension to godhood,” Publius laughed, a gleam in his eye.
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