R. Peake - Marching With Caesar – Civil War

“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” he shot back, but we both knew he was lying.

Perhaps it is boastful of me to say so, but my reputation in the army was such that if Lepidus tried to relieve me, it would bring about too many questions that he would not want to answer. Every governor is corrupt, but Lepidus was even more corrupt than most of the men sent by Rome. Despite his overall stupidity, he was smart enough to know that taking an action as drastic as relieving the Primus Pilus would draw unwanted attention. Further, he had to know that I could be counted on to point those asking the questions in the right direction. He sat there glaring at me as I stood staring at a point high above his head, neither of us saying a word for several moments.

Finally, Lepidus cleared his throat as he looked down at some papers on his desk. “Yes, well, I don't believe it needs to come to that anyway. All that needs to happen, Primus Pilus, is that some men are flogged. That's not too much to ask, is it?” he gave me a grimace that I supposed passed for his smile, and it was all I could do to keep from gaping at him in open amazement.

Then, something clicked in my head, as I understood what was really taking place. Marcus Lepidus wanted to see men flogged, not for any other reason than he got some sort of satisfaction from the sight.

“Very well, General, it will be as you command. I'll make sure that you'll see some. . good floggings, but I do have one request.”

Lepidus’ expression changed, and he sat back, his fingertips pressed together as he looked at me with unconcealed suspicion. “What is it?” he asked warily.

“Just that the floggings are done without the scourge, and just the lash.”

His look of disappointment confirmed my suspicions. While I had not thought it possible, my loathing for the man increased tenfold.

He frowned, shooting a glance at his toady, then opened his mouth, but I cut him off, suddenly inspired. “Excuse me, General, but it’s just that if we used the scourge, a fair number of the men punished would either die or be completely useless, and we're at a point in our training where it would be too much to expect to find a replacement and get them trained up to the proper level.”

Oh, he did not like that one bit, yet even men like Lepidus had their limits and could not be seen to hurt the readiness and training of a Legion for his own personal satisfaction. Because that is exactly what would be spread throughout the army, and if it was common knowledge in the army it would not take long for it to be known in Rome, where the climate was such that it would make things very dangerous for Lepidus.

Biting his lip, he gave a curt nod, saying only, “Very well. That is all.”

He dismissed me with a disgusted wave of his hand, not bothering to return my salute. I exited the office, trying to decide how I was going to get out of this mess.

~ ~ ~ ~

“He what?” Scribonius’ mouth dropped open in shock.

I just nodded, pointing to his cup of wine to indicate that he should take another drink.

“We can’t do that,” Balbus said, his expression mirroring that of Scribonius.

This time, I just shrugged, replying, “What choice do we have? By the book, any man written up more than twice for any offense, no matter how minor, is subject to being flogged. Besides that, by tradition and custom, whatever the Legate commanding a Legion decides is as close to law as one can get, and this Legate also happens to be the governor.” I shrugged. “At least he agreed for the men not to be scourged.”

Balbus snorted in disgust. “That was big of him. Let’s be sure and tell the boys who had a smudge on their buckle or their blacking smeared that at least they won’t be scourged. I’m sure that will make them feel better.”

“It should, because they’d probably be dead,” I shot back, stung by what I perceived as their lack of appreciation that I had gotten at least that much of a concession from Lepidus. Leaning forward, I said intently, “Look, you weren’t there. There was no changing his mind because this isn’t about discipline, it’s about that bastard getting some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing men striped bloody.”

Balbus looked at me in open disbelief, while Scribonius sat back, nodding thoughtfully. “I had heard that about Lepidus. Apparently, he's a huge fan of the arena, and owns a stable of gladiators himself. But his interests don’t stop there; supposedly he tortures his slaves for his own amusement.”

Balbus looked at Scribonius in surprise, but I had long ago learned that my friend was a fount of knowledge about the upper classes of Rome, and he had always been right before so I saw no reason to doubt him now.

“So what do we do?” Balbus asked.

Again, all I could do was shrug. “We obey orders. Tomorrow we set up the frame in the forum, and some poor bastard is going to get striped.”

~ ~ ~ ~

The next day, things went exactly as we had feared, except that it was even worse because there were a total of 20 men deemed by Lepidus to be worthy of flogging. There was an audible gasp every time as one after the other, the men under punishment were called to the front of the formation, name after name after name. I could feel the eyes of the Centurions boring into my back, but they had all been warned what was coming and cautioned against making any sort of display that would give Lepidus the excuse to have them punished as well. While I did not believe Lepidus would be stupid enough to try having a Centurion flogged, I was not willing to take the chance. So many men were selected that the punishment took the better part of the rest of the morning, with another problem presenting itself, though Lepidus offered the solution, thereby making things even worse. Each man was to receive ten lashes; with 20 men that was 200 lashes that somebody had to administer. Generally, a man from the punishment detail could inflict about 50 lashes before his arm gave out, and there were only two men per Legion, so for a brief moment I thought that either some of the men would escape flogging, or each man would only receive three or four lashes. Unfortunately, Lepidus had brought along a whole stable of men trained in the arts of torture and punishment, and he ordered these men to inflict the punishment. At the sight of the heavily muscled, scarred men striding forward to take their place by the frames, there was a low buzz of muttering that swept through the Cohort formations, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck raise at the sound of a hugely angry Legion. As much as I understood and agreed, I could not allow this to continue, so I executed an about-face to glare at the men, none of whom could look me in the eye, and I was gratified to hear the noise come to a complete stop. Still, I felt the undercurrent of anger, worrying me that this was only the first day. Unless Lepidus realized what a huge mistake he was making, I was not sure that I could control the men, youngsters or not. I would be lying if I said that there was a part of me that did not want to control them, that would love to see them tear Lepidus into little pieces. That would not do my career any good, however, so I just had to hope that somehow the crisis that I was sure was coming could be averted.

~ ~ ~ ~

The punishment over, the men were marched back to their respective areas, while I scanned their faces as they marched past, my heart sinking at their expressions of open anger and disgust. Fueled by the veterans, who would no doubt be telling them that things had never been this way while marching for Caesar, or even for that bastard Labienus, the Centurions and I were sitting on top of a rapidly boiling pot. With that in mind, I called a meeting of all Centurions and Optios. Not wanting to have the type of discussion we needed to have in earshot of either the men or Lepidus’ minions, we met at the small theater in town, with guards at the entrances to make sure that nobody could eavesdrop.