Colleen McCullough - 3. Fortune's Favorites

The letter made Caesar sigh; suddenly breathing exercises and rhetoric were not very stimulating. However, he had received no summons from Lucullus, and doubted he ever would. Especially if the tale of his pirate coup was all over Rome. Lucullus would have approved the deed but not the doer. He liked things bureaucratically tidy, officially neat. A privatus adventurer usurping the governor's authority would not sit well with Lucullus, for all he would understand why Caesar had acted. I wonder, thought Caesar the next day, if the wish is father to the actuality? Can a man influence events by the power of his unspoken desires? Or is it rather the workings of Fortune? I have luck, I am one of Fortune's favorites. And here it is yet again. The chance! And offered while there is no one to stop me. Well, no one except the likes of Juncus, who doesn't matter. Rhodus now insisted that King Mithridates had launched not one invasion, but three, each originating at Zela in Pontus, where he had his military headquarters and trained his vast armies. The main thrust he was definitely heading himself, three hundred thousand foot and horse rolling down the coast of Paphlagonia toward Bithynia, and supported by his general cousins Hermocrates and Taxiles as well as a fleet of one thousand ships, a good number of them pirate craft, under the command of his admiral cousin Aristonicus. But a second thrust commanded by the King's nephew Diophantus was proceeding into Cappadocia, its eventual target Cilicia; there were a hundred thousand troops involved. Then there was a third thrust, also one hundred thousand strong, under the command of a general cousin, Eumachus, and the bastard son of Gaius Marius sent to the King by Sertorius, Marcus Marius. This third force was under orders to penetrate Phrygia and try to enter Asia Province by the back door. A pity, sighed Caesar, that Lucullus and Marcus Cotta would not hear this news soon enough; the two legions which belonged to Cilicia were already on their way by sea to Pergamum at the command of Lucullus, which left Cilicia unprotected against an invasion by Diophantus. So there was nothing to do there except hope that events contrived to slow Diophantus down; he would meet little opposition in Cappadocia, thanks to King Tigranes. The two legions of Fimbriani were already in Pergamum with the craven governor, Juncus, and there was no likelihood that Juncus would send them south to deal with Eumachus and Marcus Marius; he would want them where they could ensure his own escape when Asia Province fell to Mithridates for the second time in less than fifteen years. And with no strong Roman to command them, the people of Asia Province would not resist. Could not resist. It was now the end of Sextilis, but Lucullus and Marcus Cotta were at sea for at least another month and that month, thought Caesar, would prove the vital one as far as Asia Province was concerned. "There is no one else," said Caesar to himself. The other side of Caesar answered: "But I will get no thanks if I am successful." "I don't do it for thanks, but for satisfaction." "Satisfaction? What do you mean by satisfaction?" "I mean I must prove to myself that I can do it." "They won't adore you the way they adore Pompeius Magnus." "Of course they won't! Pompeius Magnus is a Picentine of no moment, he could never be a danger to the Republic. He has not the blood. Sulla had the blood. And so do I." Then why put yourself at risk? You could end in being had up for treason and it's no use saying there is no treason! There doesn't have to be. Your actions will be open to interpretation, and who will be doing the interpreting?" . "Lucullus." "Exactly! He's already got you marked as a born troublemaker and he'll see this in the same light, even if he did award you a Civic Crown. Don't congratulate yourself because you were sensible enough to give most of the pirate spoils away you still kept a fortune that you didn't declare, and men like Lucullus will always suspect you of keeping that fortune." "Even so, I must do it." "Then try to do it like a Julius, not a Pompeius! No fuss, no fanfares, no shouting, no puffing yourself up afterward, even if you are completely successful." "A quiet duty for the sake of satisfaction." "Yes, a quiet duty for the sake of satisfaction."

He summoned Burgundus. "We're off to Priene at dawn tomorrow. Just you, me, and the two most discreet among the scribes. A horse and a mule each Toes and a shod horse for me, however, as well as a mule. You and I will need our armor and weapons." Long years of serving Caesar had insulated Burgundus against surprise, so he displayed none. "Demetrius?" he asked. "I won't be away long enough to need him. Besides, he's best left here. He's a gossip." Do I seek passage for us, or hire a ship?'' "Hire one. Small, light, and very fast." "Fast enough to outdistance pirates?" Caesar smiled. "Definitely, Burgundus. Once is enough." The journey occupied four days Cnidus, Myndus, Branchidae, Priene at the mouth of the Maeander River. Never had Caesar enjoyed a sea voyage more, whipping along in a sleek undecked boat powered by fifty oarsmen who rowed to the beat of a drum, their chests and shoulders massively developed by years of this same exercise; the boat carried a second crew equally good, and they spelled each other before real tiredness set in, eating and drinking hugely in between bouts of rowing. They reached Priene early enough on the fourth day for Caesar to seek out the ethnarch, a man of Aethiopian name, Memnon. "I presume you wouldn't be an ethnarch so soon after the reign of Mithridates in Asia Province if you had sympathized with his cause," said Caesar, brushing aside the customary courtesies. "Therefore I must ask you do you welcome the idea of another term under Mithridates?'' Memnon flinched. "No, Caesar!" "Good. In which case, Memnon, I require much of you, and in the shortest period of time." "I will try. What do you require?" "Call up the militia of Priene yourself and send to every town and community from Halicarnassus to Sardes to call up its militia. I want as many men as you can find as quickly as you can. Four legions, and all under their usual officers. The assembly point will be Magnesia by the Maeander eight days from now." Light broke; Memnon beamed. "The governor has acted!" "Oh, absolutely," said Caesar. "He's placed me in command of the Asian militia, though unfortunately he can spare no other Roman staff. That means, Memnon, that Asia Province will have to fight for itself instead of sitting back and letting Roman legions take all the glory." "Not before time!" said Memnon, a martial spark in his eye. "I feel the same way. Good local militia, Roman trained and Roman equipped, are much underestimated. But after this I can assure you they won't be." "Whom do we fight?" asked Memnon. "A Pontic general named Eumachus and a renegade Spaniard named Marcus Marius no relation to my uncle the great Gaius Marius," lied Caesar, who wanted his militia full of confidence, not awed by that name. So off went Memnon to organize the calling up of the Asian militia, without asking to see an official piece of paper or even pausing to wonder if Caesar was who and what he said he was. When Caesar was doing the pushing, nobody thought to question him. That night after he retired to his rooms in Memnon's house, Caesar conferred with Burgundus. "You won't be with me on this campaign, old friend," he said, "and there's no use protesting that Cardixa wouldn't speak to you again if you weren't on hand to protect me. I need you to do something far more important than standing on the sidelines of a battle wishing you were a Roman legionary or a militiaman. I need you to ride for Ancyra to see Deiotarus." "The Galatian thane," said Burgundus, nodding. "Yes, I remember him." "And he's bound to remember you. Even among the Gauls of Galatia, men don't come as big as you. I'm sure he knows more about the movements of Eumachus and Marcus Marius than I do, but it isn't to warn him that I'm sending you. I want you to tell him that I'm organizing an army of Asian militia and will try to lure the Pontic forces down the Maeander. Somewhere along the Maeander I hope to trap and defeat them. If I do, they'll retreat back into Phrygia before re forming their ranks and then trying to invade again. I want you to tell Deiotarus that he will never have a better opportunity to wipe this Pontic army out than if he catches it in Phrygia attempting to re form. In other words, tell him, he will be acting in concert with me. If I in Asia Province and he in Phrygia both do our jobs well, then there will be no invasion of Asia Province or Galatia this year." "How do I travel, Caesar? I mean, looking like what?" "I think you ought to look like a war god, Burgundus. Put on the gold armor Gaius Marius gave you, stuff the biggest purple feathers you can find in the marketplace into the crest of your helmet, and sing some frightful German song as loudly as you can. If you encounter Pontic soldiers, ride right through the middle of them as if they didn't exist. Between you and the Nesaean, you'll be the personification of martial terror." "And after I've seen Deiotarus?" "Return to me along the Maeander."