March 17, 45 BC
Munda, Hispania
I.
Worn down by thirty minutes' hand-to-hand combat without pause, the two armies' battle lines drew back from one another. In between them, the stink of death and the screams of the dying were ignored as the armies paused. No decision had been reached yet.
As the legionaries of the Pompeian army's left paused to catch their breath, a certain Mamercus thought about uprooting a javelin that had lodged itself in the coarse Spanish turf. In most of the worlds which split off from this point, he dismissed this idea as being unnecessary; he needed to conserve his energy for when the lines came together once more. In those in which he did pick up the javelin, he often had second thoughts about spending so much of his precious energy in throwing it before drawing his sword and coming to grips with Caesar's legionaries. When he did throw it, he often missed the brightly-armored officer who had run to the front of his line to encourage his soldiers. Sometimes the officer warded off the javelin with his shield. But in one world, the one which we examine, Mamercus' javelin was thrown perfectly, and it ran through the neck of Gaius Julius Caesar, who fell forward and breathed his final breath into the blood-spattered Spanish earth.
- - -
II.
Tens of thousands of Roman dead littered the slopes before Munda. The sun was about to set. Gnaeus Pompeius and a few of his trusted officers walked among the dead of the Tenth Legion, Caesar's favorite, which had fought and died almost to a man. Another cluster of officers had formed a circle ahead; reportedly the body of the conqueror of Pompey and Scipio lay there.
Gnaeus tripped over a body. He swore, then spat on the dead legionary. He laughed. "Hoc voluimus!" ("We wanted this!")
- - -
III.
The staff officer entered Gnaeus Pompeius' tent. Perhaps he would be rewarded for the good news he brought, though he doubted it. The father's generosity had not been handed down to his son.
The general was relaxing on a couch in his tunic. A scribe was seated at a desk in the midst of writing a letter, probably to some politician. The young general looked up at him as if exasperated. "What is it?"
"General, the auxiliaries have captured a prisoner of noble blood. He was fleeing on horseback, but the Spaniards overtook him and killed his companions. They seek a reward."
"Who is he?"
"He is Gaius Octavius."
"Caesar's nephew?"
"The same."
Gnaeus thought for a moment before deciding. I am living proof that it is unwise to leave a great man's progeny alive! "Kill him at once."
- - -
What do you think would happen if Caesar was killed (and therefore, presumably) defeated at Munda by the two sons of Pompey? The battle was one of the most hard-fought of Caesar's career, and afterward he said it was the only time he had been forced to fight for his life, as opposed to simply for a victory. Octavian was present, too, so to cut a few things short I have him captured and executed right after the battle.
Any thoughts? Can Caesar's relatively few close associates muster enough support to fight Pompey's sons if they march to Italy? Gnaeus was considered a vengeful, nasty fellow, so if he is in power at Rome, we could see something similar to Sulla's proscriptions. This bodes ill for those who either never took sides in the war, or who switched to Caesar without too much compulsion (like Cicero).