This was after he came clean about some things, and having done that process wrong or something. See if you can PM Ian about reconsidering this...
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
- Thread starter tuareg109
- Start date
1. Remember The Southern Roman Empire TL that was continued after months of inactivity by someone else?
2. I remember talking to Tuareg about continuity. He told me that he planned his updates out up to 10 months in advance (at his pace), which is to say he had no definitive overall plan other than to go with the flow. So even if this was discontinued, I don't think he'd mind if his trusty buddy were here helping a new writer continue his TL in the writer's own format.
Are you sure we should just let this great oppertunity rest?
As a general POD? Let someone who is sufficiently interested, start their own TL. Or, one can discuss it as a topic on a new thread. Otherwise, I agree with Tsar.
Lady's and gentlemen, boys and girls. Get your popcorn ready. Through Tuareg109, I present to you the new installment of "FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER!
" What? How is this possible you ask? Tuareg found me on steam yesterday, and we worked out how he can still update this timeline. He will be sending me updates through email, which I will post here. Enjoy!
“Gaius, I must say that this is a splendid surprise!” said Gaius Julius Caesar Senior to his son as he ushered him into the triclinium [dining room]. “I can’t imagine how busy you are, being Flamen Dialis; all those chants and rituals and whatnot.”
“Oh I’m managing, dad,” said the Flamen Dialis ruefully, and sat down heavily on the couch, already sweating under the heavy woolen laena of his office—and not only from the heat! It was only one day after his interview with Lucius Sissina Napos, and his heart pounded at the thought of what he would have to reveal to his mother and father in the next few minutes. “It’s all so fascinating, and Cornelia is such a help.” He waved away a servant who was offering to remove his stuffy garment and chafing ivory helmet; he would need all the forceful physical authority he could muster.
“We Julii Caesares are so highborn that we’ve always married for looks and personality than blood; better the nice pretty daughter of some lowly Samnite knight-businessman than the haughty daughter of a Cornelius or a Valerius. And yet, I must say that we’ve had a stroke of good luck.”
Gaius Junior rolled his eyes, “What’s best is that mother likes Cornelia Scipionis Nasica! If mother disapproved, we’d never hear the end of it.”
“Hmm hmm,” chuckled Gaius Senior, grinning. “The boss is the boss. She’s not the daughter of the Marcius Rex for nothing, you know.” They spent some minutes conversing as the servants bustled to and fro setting the table and making dinner ready; it was mid-afternoon, and it was to be a full family dinner, women included.
“And then there’s the matter of all these temples and colleges and fellowships—it’s quite extraordinary,” the Flamen Dialis continued, at that moment regaling his father with the details of his flaminate. “In the next few years I intend to visit every temple and shrine imaginable in all of Latium and catalogue the gods worshipped, the rites and ceremonies performed, the duties paid—or not paid” he added with a quick grin “—to the Pontifex Maximus here in Rome…. Who knows, I might even go through all of Italia, time willing.”
“Very ambitious,” said the father, eyes wide and shaking his head. “My dear son, you’ll have grey hairs by next year with all you’re doing even now, let alone this new project of yours! How would you even go through Italy, when you can’t spend a night outside of Rome?”
“I’ve been thinking of that,” frowned the Flamen Dialis, “and I might apply to the Pontifex Maximus for Lictors, or maybe some kind of special religious clerks, to help in the cataloguing. It’s the Pontifex Maximus’s job anyway, but he might not mind having the burden off his shoulders.”
Gaius Senior was still shaking his head, “I still don’t see why anybody would want that job.” In the brief silence that followed, the steward sallied into the room.
“Dominus, Flamen Dialis, your four male guests have arrived, and I saw the lady Cornelia Scipionis Nasica’s litter just down the street and headed this way.”
“Thank you,” said Gaius Senior with a nod, and the steward withdrew. “A family of scholars, eh?” asked Gaius Senior with his eyebrows raised. “Religious life has sure thrown you into a different crowd.” The Flamen Dialis only nodded as they stood to await the guests.
Publius Cornelius Sissina Junior, who was Quaestor-elect and thus more senior to even his own father, entered first. His face, though homely, was very friendly, and it was not hard to see that he was eminently electable. The thatch of golden hair waved as he strode toward the Caesars smiling, and almost as tall as them. “Gaius Julius, what a pleasure to meet the father of such a great scholar as my friend, your son; your other son is my colleague in the Quaestorship this year, and with such friendship we might even hope to be consular colleagues in ten years.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Publius Cornelius,” said Gaius Senior warmly; he was quite taken by the man’s pleasantness. “I am sure you will adorn your office.” Privately he didn’t see any real season for great amity or partnership between their two families. Gaius Junior’s heart was beating even faster, for Publius Cornelius was of course in on the plot to marry his brother to Gaius Junior’s sister, and a key to their plan was to present the entire family as eminently intelligent and likeable.
Publius Cornelius Junior moved aside to reveal his father, a likewise amiable—but unambitious, this time—man who had never attained any high office. Then came Lucius Cornelius Sissina the scholar. “So you are the man my son is always talking about!” cried Gaius Julius Caesar Senior.
“That’s me,” said the little old grey man, smiling. “Friend of every literary critic and scholar since the beginning of the Republic, that’s me.”
“I wasn’t much for words and tablets and inscriptions in my younger days, but now I find it all quite interesting. Gaius says you’ll be able to help him with the temples and shrines in Rome and Latium.”
“Oh yes,” nodded Sissina sagely. “I know where every single temple, shrine, college, and cult is located. I’ve never attained office, and my lands and the incomes they ensure are enough to finance my eccentricities.”
After Lucius Sissina the uncle came Lucius Sissina Nepos. Gaius Julius Caesar eyed him up and down; as tall as a Caesar, as meaty and strong as a German, and as knavish as the lowest ranker in the legions! Is there room for two devilishly handsome Cornelii in this generation? First Sulla, now Sissina, thought Caesar Senior. Still, devious Lucius Sissina—who had put on an innocent and charming facade against the daunting Flamen Dialis—managed to make Gaius Senior like him very quickly. Dinner was arranged when Cornelia’s arrival was announced, and the men reclined. Publius Cornelius the Quaestor was in the Locus Consularis next to the host, the Flamen Dialis and his scholar-friend old Lucius Sissina were on their right, and Publius Sissina Senior and his younger son Lucius Sissina Nepos were on their left.
Cornelia arrived and met her distant and little-known cousins, and then sat across from her husband. This arrangement, with women facing out, was quite unfair in her opinion; the way Julia had arranged it was better, with one long table and alternating genders. Then Marcia and Julilla filed in and were introduced; Marcia was glowing with admiration of such an intelligent and noble family, whereas Julilla’s honey-brown face turned white, and her honey-colored eyes narrowed. She greeted everybody stiffly, and shot her brother an evil look that he simply returned by rolling his eyes. She was such a child!
And with child, the Flamen Dialis saw immediately. Even such an experienced mother as Marcia hadn’t seen the signs when she didn’t know what to look for, but Gaius Junior saw it right away; Julilla was pregnant. The dinner got started and the conversation was pleasant; the six conspirators watched their hosts’ movements, and extolled the virtues of Lucius Sissina Nepos as much as they could. This prompted Gaius Julius Senior to say, “Well, it seems as though you, once elected, will be braver than Horatius Cocles, more loyal than the first Quintus Mucius Scaevola, and more cunning than Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator!”
“Not to mention smarter than Marcus Aemilius Scaurus!” shouted Lucius Sissina Nepos laughter, charming everybody around him into joining in. So confident!
When the laughter had died, Gaius Senior continued, “You’ll do quite well, Lucius Cornelius. As well as Sulla, I imagine; I’m sure he’d love to have a talk with you, for he’s gathering quite a following among the promising noble youths. I’ll have to see if I can introduce you two as soon as he’s back from Hispania—oh, that will be one long campaign!”
They fell to talking of Hispania, and of the Germans, and of military commands. “I spent almost my entire military career in Hispania, you know. Quintus Aulus Pompeius and Marcus Popillius Laenas, those were the legates I served under; it’s a shame I couldn’t have gone years later, under Scipio Aemilianus. Now that man was bold, and his troops did well out of the Siege of Numantia.”
This speech was met with silence; that stroke of luck that had further enriched men like Spurius Dellius and Publius Rutilius Rufus and King Jugurtha had missed Gaius Julius Caesar Senior. “Well,” said Quaestor Publius loudly, pulling everybody from this depressing reverie, “now your son will gain more from Hispania than Scipio Aemilianus ever did. Imagine all that German gold, and those slaves…I fancy that Spurius Dellius will manage to destroy some Celtiberian tribes, too.”
“Julia says that that’s the plan,” said Gaius Senior, now grinning at the reminder that his line was not doomed.
“How silly of me to forget that you are Spurius Dellius’s father-in-law!” cried Quaestor Publius. “Lucius can go ahead and meet Sulla; I would rather have a talk with the man of the hour.” Gaius Senior, who rather liked Dellius more than he did Sulla, approved of this statement. Gaius Junior, on a personal level, did so as well; in general, though, he needed his father to like Lucius Sissina more than Quaestor Publius Sissina.
At the end of the night, Gaius Junior saw that he’d failed. Their guests and the women departed, and father and son were left talking as they had been talking when the dinner began. “Oh, what an intelligent man! You choose friends well, son.”
“Yes,” gulped the Flamen Dialis. “Lucius Nepos does have some very interesting ideas about organizing the army. Great for efficiency.”
“What?” said Gaius Senior, and Junior’s hopes fell. “Bugger the army, I want to hear more about the laws! The Centuriate and Tribal electoral systems both need massive overhauls, and it seems as though Publius Cornelius is the man to do it. Imagine what he and Sextus can do together! Why can’t they share every office, and help each other.” He got a crafty look into his eye. “I know how we’ll bind them to us.”
“How?” asked Gaius Julius Caesar Junior, plans falling apart around his ears and dreading the answer.
“A marriage!”
" What? How is this possible you ask? Tuareg found me on steam yesterday, and we worked out how he can still update this timeline. He will be sending me updates through email, which I will post here. Enjoy!FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
IRONIA, 647 AVC
IRONIA, 647 AVC
“Gaius, I must say that this is a splendid surprise!” said Gaius Julius Caesar Senior to his son as he ushered him into the triclinium [dining room]. “I can’t imagine how busy you are, being Flamen Dialis; all those chants and rituals and whatnot.”
“Oh I’m managing, dad,” said the Flamen Dialis ruefully, and sat down heavily on the couch, already sweating under the heavy woolen laena of his office—and not only from the heat! It was only one day after his interview with Lucius Sissina Napos, and his heart pounded at the thought of what he would have to reveal to his mother and father in the next few minutes. “It’s all so fascinating, and Cornelia is such a help.” He waved away a servant who was offering to remove his stuffy garment and chafing ivory helmet; he would need all the forceful physical authority he could muster.
“We Julii Caesares are so highborn that we’ve always married for looks and personality than blood; better the nice pretty daughter of some lowly Samnite knight-businessman than the haughty daughter of a Cornelius or a Valerius. And yet, I must say that we’ve had a stroke of good luck.”
Gaius Junior rolled his eyes, “What’s best is that mother likes Cornelia Scipionis Nasica! If mother disapproved, we’d never hear the end of it.”
“Hmm hmm,” chuckled Gaius Senior, grinning. “The boss is the boss. She’s not the daughter of the Marcius Rex for nothing, you know.” They spent some minutes conversing as the servants bustled to and fro setting the table and making dinner ready; it was mid-afternoon, and it was to be a full family dinner, women included.
“And then there’s the matter of all these temples and colleges and fellowships—it’s quite extraordinary,” the Flamen Dialis continued, at that moment regaling his father with the details of his flaminate. “In the next few years I intend to visit every temple and shrine imaginable in all of Latium and catalogue the gods worshipped, the rites and ceremonies performed, the duties paid—or not paid” he added with a quick grin “—to the Pontifex Maximus here in Rome…. Who knows, I might even go through all of Italia, time willing.”
“Very ambitious,” said the father, eyes wide and shaking his head. “My dear son, you’ll have grey hairs by next year with all you’re doing even now, let alone this new project of yours! How would you even go through Italy, when you can’t spend a night outside of Rome?”
“I’ve been thinking of that,” frowned the Flamen Dialis, “and I might apply to the Pontifex Maximus for Lictors, or maybe some kind of special religious clerks, to help in the cataloguing. It’s the Pontifex Maximus’s job anyway, but he might not mind having the burden off his shoulders.”
Gaius Senior was still shaking his head, “I still don’t see why anybody would want that job.” In the brief silence that followed, the steward sallied into the room.
“Dominus, Flamen Dialis, your four male guests have arrived, and I saw the lady Cornelia Scipionis Nasica’s litter just down the street and headed this way.”
“Thank you,” said Gaius Senior with a nod, and the steward withdrew. “A family of scholars, eh?” asked Gaius Senior with his eyebrows raised. “Religious life has sure thrown you into a different crowd.” The Flamen Dialis only nodded as they stood to await the guests.
Publius Cornelius Sissina Junior, who was Quaestor-elect and thus more senior to even his own father, entered first. His face, though homely, was very friendly, and it was not hard to see that he was eminently electable. The thatch of golden hair waved as he strode toward the Caesars smiling, and almost as tall as them. “Gaius Julius, what a pleasure to meet the father of such a great scholar as my friend, your son; your other son is my colleague in the Quaestorship this year, and with such friendship we might even hope to be consular colleagues in ten years.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Publius Cornelius,” said Gaius Senior warmly; he was quite taken by the man’s pleasantness. “I am sure you will adorn your office.” Privately he didn’t see any real season for great amity or partnership between their two families. Gaius Junior’s heart was beating even faster, for Publius Cornelius was of course in on the plot to marry his brother to Gaius Junior’s sister, and a key to their plan was to present the entire family as eminently intelligent and likeable.
Publius Cornelius Junior moved aside to reveal his father, a likewise amiable—but unambitious, this time—man who had never attained any high office. Then came Lucius Cornelius Sissina the scholar. “So you are the man my son is always talking about!” cried Gaius Julius Caesar Senior.
“That’s me,” said the little old grey man, smiling. “Friend of every literary critic and scholar since the beginning of the Republic, that’s me.”
“I wasn’t much for words and tablets and inscriptions in my younger days, but now I find it all quite interesting. Gaius says you’ll be able to help him with the temples and shrines in Rome and Latium.”
“Oh yes,” nodded Sissina sagely. “I know where every single temple, shrine, college, and cult is located. I’ve never attained office, and my lands and the incomes they ensure are enough to finance my eccentricities.”
After Lucius Sissina the uncle came Lucius Sissina Nepos. Gaius Julius Caesar eyed him up and down; as tall as a Caesar, as meaty and strong as a German, and as knavish as the lowest ranker in the legions! Is there room for two devilishly handsome Cornelii in this generation? First Sulla, now Sissina, thought Caesar Senior. Still, devious Lucius Sissina—who had put on an innocent and charming facade against the daunting Flamen Dialis—managed to make Gaius Senior like him very quickly. Dinner was arranged when Cornelia’s arrival was announced, and the men reclined. Publius Cornelius the Quaestor was in the Locus Consularis next to the host, the Flamen Dialis and his scholar-friend old Lucius Sissina were on their right, and Publius Sissina Senior and his younger son Lucius Sissina Nepos were on their left.
Cornelia arrived and met her distant and little-known cousins, and then sat across from her husband. This arrangement, with women facing out, was quite unfair in her opinion; the way Julia had arranged it was better, with one long table and alternating genders. Then Marcia and Julilla filed in and were introduced; Marcia was glowing with admiration of such an intelligent and noble family, whereas Julilla’s honey-brown face turned white, and her honey-colored eyes narrowed. She greeted everybody stiffly, and shot her brother an evil look that he simply returned by rolling his eyes. She was such a child!
And with child, the Flamen Dialis saw immediately. Even such an experienced mother as Marcia hadn’t seen the signs when she didn’t know what to look for, but Gaius Junior saw it right away; Julilla was pregnant. The dinner got started and the conversation was pleasant; the six conspirators watched their hosts’ movements, and extolled the virtues of Lucius Sissina Nepos as much as they could. This prompted Gaius Julius Senior to say, “Well, it seems as though you, once elected, will be braver than Horatius Cocles, more loyal than the first Quintus Mucius Scaevola, and more cunning than Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator!”
“Not to mention smarter than Marcus Aemilius Scaurus!” shouted Lucius Sissina Nepos laughter, charming everybody around him into joining in. So confident!
When the laughter had died, Gaius Senior continued, “You’ll do quite well, Lucius Cornelius. As well as Sulla, I imagine; I’m sure he’d love to have a talk with you, for he’s gathering quite a following among the promising noble youths. I’ll have to see if I can introduce you two as soon as he’s back from Hispania—oh, that will be one long campaign!”
They fell to talking of Hispania, and of the Germans, and of military commands. “I spent almost my entire military career in Hispania, you know. Quintus Aulus Pompeius and Marcus Popillius Laenas, those were the legates I served under; it’s a shame I couldn’t have gone years later, under Scipio Aemilianus. Now that man was bold, and his troops did well out of the Siege of Numantia.”
This speech was met with silence; that stroke of luck that had further enriched men like Spurius Dellius and Publius Rutilius Rufus and King Jugurtha had missed Gaius Julius Caesar Senior. “Well,” said Quaestor Publius loudly, pulling everybody from this depressing reverie, “now your son will gain more from Hispania than Scipio Aemilianus ever did. Imagine all that German gold, and those slaves…I fancy that Spurius Dellius will manage to destroy some Celtiberian tribes, too.”
“Julia says that that’s the plan,” said Gaius Senior, now grinning at the reminder that his line was not doomed.
“How silly of me to forget that you are Spurius Dellius’s father-in-law!” cried Quaestor Publius. “Lucius can go ahead and meet Sulla; I would rather have a talk with the man of the hour.” Gaius Senior, who rather liked Dellius more than he did Sulla, approved of this statement. Gaius Junior, on a personal level, did so as well; in general, though, he needed his father to like Lucius Sissina more than Quaestor Publius Sissina.
At the end of the night, Gaius Junior saw that he’d failed. Their guests and the women departed, and father and son were left talking as they had been talking when the dinner began. “Oh, what an intelligent man! You choose friends well, son.”
“Yes,” gulped the Flamen Dialis. “Lucius Nepos does have some very interesting ideas about organizing the army. Great for efficiency.”
“What?” said Gaius Senior, and Junior’s hopes fell. “Bugger the army, I want to hear more about the laws! The Centuriate and Tribal electoral systems both need massive overhauls, and it seems as though Publius Cornelius is the man to do it. Imagine what he and Sextus can do together! Why can’t they share every office, and help each other.” He got a crafty look into his eye. “I know how we’ll bind them to us.”
“How?” asked Gaius Julius Caesar Junior, plans falling apart around his ears and dreading the answer.
“A marriage!”
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From Tuareg: Grouchio: Every day, though a gap of three days or so shouldn't be cause for a freak out; all depends on the frequency of my writing and Slydessertfox's good graces.
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
SULLA IN SPAIN PART 2, 647 AVC
SULLA IN SPAIN PART 2, 647 AVC
”Damn winter,” growled Spurius Dellius, who was on Tarraco’s walls and looking north toward the city of Barcino [Barcelona]. Next to and around him were arrayed all of his senior staff and his junior military tribunes and his centurions and their optiones [plural of optio, or the centurion’s hand-picked second-in-command]; since Spurius Dellius only came to Hispania with two legions, and assumed overall command of the one native legion in the Nearer Province, this number of subordinates was not as high as he would have liked. In a few hours, however, this number would be multiplied by five; Spurius Dellius and his men could see the vast column of Marcus Antonius Gallus’s twelve legions snaking south toward the city, and were glad.
Eleven days ago, on the 4th of December, Sulla and Spurius Dellius had stood on these very walls talking of Gallus and his arrival in three or four days; the driving, unmanageable gale of a winter blizzard and the slow digging and slogging through the ensuing snow had meant that Gallus was very late, through no fault of his own. Worried Spurius Dellius’s fleet scouts had found Gallus and his twelve legions soon enough, and Spurius Dellius was glad, although this setback meant that they would have to begin campaigning next year; nothing fatal, but it meant that the Germans would have the wealth of Vareia [Logrono] to plunder.
Geography and towns of Spain, for reference
Another worry was food. Though the part of Hispania Citerior securely held by Rome produced enough food for two or three times fifteen legions, that security could disappear with a blink; Aulus Salvius, Spurius Dellius’s praefectus castrorum [ex-centurion in charge of supplies, equipment, camp organization, and legionary training], assured the boss that huge amounts of grain and other foodstuffs would be forthcoming from fertile Hispania Ulterior and thriving Africa Province should the need manifest itself. Sulla had even received a letter from King Jugurtha of Numidia, who also ruled very fertile lands, to the effect that Numidian grain would always be available to Sulla and other good acquaintances of King Jugurtha. The Romans’ heads spun at this example of the barbarian mindset; what person would aid a possibly ailing former enemy? They then shrugged and put it all down to Sulla’s charisma; trust Sulla to intimidate the world into helping him.
Now they stood on the walls, quite warm in the daylight and with their thick cloaks wrapped about them, and watched the column peel to the west. They saw Gallus’s praefectus castrorum and his clerks begin to measure out on enormous camp for the twelve legions; it would be about one square mile when completed, whereas the camp for Spurius Dellius’s existing three legions was only one-quarter of a square mile in area.
“Well,” said Spurius Dellius suddenly, turning to Sulla, “I don’t see why we should stay here any longer. I’ll go back to the governor’s house and look over the maps again; go down and reacquaint yourself with the men, I’m sure they’ll be eager to see you.”
“I’ll be taking the tribunes and cadets with me, Sir,” said Sulla. “The legions have to meet the men who will be leading them.”
Spurius Dellius nodded as he turned away. “Sure, just report to me with Marcus Antonius in tow before dinner. Take the other staff with you to meet Marcus Antonius and the legion. Send Sextus back as soon as you can, though!” Quaestor Sextus Julius Caesar was proving to be invaluable.
Sulla motioned for his young friends to follow him, and began the long journey that would take him along Tarraco’s walls, down into the city streets, across to the principal eastern gate, out into the semi-urban land of large manufactories, warehouses, and villas outside the city, and then around to the Gallus’s camp. It was just like the old boy, of course, to want to meet the twelve legions from Gallia Narbonensis without Sulla’s influence to cramp his style. Spurius Dellius was a military man, and his role around soldiers was the center of all attention; he would have to wait for the men to wear their admiration of Sulla out before wandering about and introducing himself.
By the time Sulla and his companions made their way down to Tarraco’s own campus martius, the soldiers had gotten their shovels out and were digging. “Get our three legions here to help,” said Sulla to Lucius Aurelius Cotta, and the young man hurried over to the existing camp. Construction of a larger camp often went quicker than construction of a smaller camp, because the ratio of workers to perimeter is larger with more legions; three legions had to make a wall two miles long whereas four times as many legions had to make a wall only twice as long.
As Sulla approached one side of the camp, the diggers began to hail him, and he raised his arm in greeting. “You’re late, you buggers!” They laughed good-naturedly and blew raspberries or showed him the universal sign to shove it. He walked through the ten-foot gap in the trenches left for the gate still laughing, and made his way to the center of camp. In front of him was the scene of thousands of noncombatant servants pitching tents or tying mules to the sturdy stakes that would also hold the tents. It was a symmetric array; rows upon rows of tents, each tent holding eight legionaries and two noncombatant servants, each row holding ten tents (and thus one century), each block of rows holding one cohort (five centuries), each block of ten cohorts holding one legion. The Via Principalis, instead of featuring rows and small tents, held larger tents for the military tribunes and staff, even larger tents for the legates, and a small wooden house as combine overall commander’s domicile and headquarters; across the Via Principalis from the commander’s house was the Forum—basically an assembly ground.
Very simplified (not totally accurate) Roman military camp. Note that a camp may or may not have cavalry
Sulla had entered through a Via Praetoria gate, and so walked between rows and rows of small tents, arriving in the Forum after about half a mile. There he found the big, meaty, red-haired man supervising the construction of the wooden house. “You’re late!” Sulla shouted.
The workers went on fitting the pre-made pieces of wood together and hammering the same old nails in, but the man turned and beamed. “Lucius Cornelius, Lucius Cornelius!” He bounded forward and pumped Sulla’s hand with joy. “I thought we’d never get out of that blizzard, truly!”
Extracting his hand from the crushing grip, Sulla gave his most genial smile. “How glad I am to see you! Even with me in the army, we had almost no hope of beating the Germans with only three legions.”
“And now we have fifteen, what a wonder. Imagine, almost a hundred thousand Roman fighting men—why, we’re unstoppable! We could conquer the Parthians in a few years if we wanted to.”
“We would need another hundred thousand men to secure our supply lines for that,” said Sulla, shaking his head. “But yes, we’ll give the Germans a whipping.” Now long-legged Lucius Aurelius Cotta came back from his deed and Sulla said, “Oh, I am being rude.” He stood back and introduced the staff from Rome one by one. “You know Metellus and Caesar Strabo and Drusus, of course.” Metellus shook Gallus’s hand warmly, and the other two a little more grudgingly; Sulla had trusted Gallus’s experience over the young men’s nobility, and come out ahead for it. “This is Lucius Julius Caesar, who is Strabo’s brother; and this here is Sextus Julius Caesar, their cousin and Spurius Dellius’s Quaestor.”
“Another Caesar! Soon we’ll have an army of them!” barked Gallus, and the other men chuckled.
“Seeing how handsome the bastards are,” drawled Sulla, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to sire an army here in Spain. Oh, orders are for you to return to the big boss as soon as possible, Sextus. Off you go,” he added at the young man’s crestfallen visage. “This young man here is Lucius Aurelius Cotta; his sister is the mo—second!” Sulla caught himself, “second most beautiful woman in Rome!”
“Truly, Lucius Cornelius, my sister is the realistic type,” said Metellus Piglet, playing along. The men laughed again.
“That she is, Quintus Caecilius. Now, moving on down the line we have Gaius Claudius Pulcher—he’s the brother of Metellus’s second cousin’s daughter’s husband—and there’s Marcus Porcius Cato—Licinianus, not Salonianus; though I don’t suppose you know the difference—and....”
It was late December and two weeks since Gallus’s arrival, and the legions were mixing well and getting used to Tarraco and Spain. The weather, especially, was much less punishing than the weather in Gaul, and so the Gallic legions were especially glad. While snow fell most nights, it began to melt during the days. The days were short, however, and this coupled with the fact that supply wagons don’t roll well through snow kept the fifteen legions of Spurius Dellius in a new, combined camp at Tarraco, and boosting that city’s economy with their expenditures. Spurius Dellius himself continued to live in the brick-and-mortar governor’s house within the walls of Tarraco, receiving communications from all over Hispania; his legates and tribunes, though, the men most tied to the legions, of course lived in the camp. Sulla, as a consequence, occupied the wooden commander’s house.
It was nearing dark and thus that period of quiet activity where men tell stories or play no-stakes dice games or read and write letters to and from home. After the first few days there was little wine to be had, and this was all reserved for the senior staff; Sulla, who loved wine, had to partake of it very carefully, for he had to remain respectable. Bored, he went along the rows greeting this man or that, and joining in a few games of dice, and telling a few of the nastiest jokes he knew; the staff spent all day going over and ironing out the coming year’s strategy, and so there was often nothing to do by the time night rolled around.
The fires began to go out and the men to duck into their tents; after one final dice game, Sulla himself stood and began the trek toward the Via Principalis. As he was nearing his own house he saw that lamps were glowing in the tent of Marcus Antonius Gallus; he turned aside to ascertain the situation and heard two low voices.
“Lights out, lights out!” he said loudly from just outside the tent. “What are you doing in there?”
“We’re buggering each other, what else? Come on in and join us!”
Laughing, Sulla parted the tent flap and saw Marcus Antonius Gallus and Publius Cornelius Grovus bent over a table, inspecting the maps once more. Since meeting two weeks ago, the men had stuck together like two peas in a pod; both were tall, meaty Celts with shocking red hair and a good knowledge of both Latin and their native Gallic tongue. There were, of course, differences; Gallus was brusque and loud whereas Grovus was reserved and more liable to react than to act, for example.
“Burning the midnight oil again?” asked Sulla, shifting a lamp so that he too could lean against the table’s edge and look down onto the maps.
“Mmm, reviewing the geography here. If we let the Germans come to us, then we might be able to use these hills—here, just to the northwest. If we—”
“That’s impossible,” Sulla interrupted. “For political reasons, Spurius Dellius has got to bring the fight to the Germans.”
“Politics sure can ruin an army,” sighed Gallus. “Well then, what of your idea to go to Baetica [Andalucia] and run up the peninsula, taking the Germans from behind?”
“There’s no issue with that. The Germans will be like pigs in an acorn forest in the spring; Dellius can pick off small groups easily until we can join forces.”
Now Publius Cornelius Grovus, not known for speaking up, spoke up, “What if the Germans should unify—organize, so to speak—and go from place to place as a large group? Despite their barbarism.”
“Impossible,” scoffed Sulla, who was still Roman at heart. “You’ve just said it, they’re barbarians.”
“I’m sure you would’ve considered my father, and Marcus’s grandfather, barbarians; look at us now, legates of Roman troops.”
“You’re Roman trained,” said Sulla, rolling his eyes. “That’s radically different.”
“How can you be so sure, Lucius Cornelius? How can you be so sure?”
Thank you all for your kind words and support!
Grouchio: I think I’m a little closer to understanding how ecstatic you are!
Tsar Gringo and Herzen’s love-child: Thanks for appreciating the importance of canon, but I really wouldn’t have minded any third-party continuation.
altwere: Thanks for the praise.
rgroberts: Yes, Happy New Year and this is your present!
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