Iron Shaft: Quintus

Iron Shaft : Quintus

Being the Fifth Letter of a Roman soldier, Metilius Crispus Hispanus (also known as Iron Shaft) to his patron L. Cornelius Pusio written in the time of Julius Caesar.

Translated, edited and told to you

by

John Hulme

historian and scholar.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 John Hulme

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Table of Contents

Foreward

Quintus One

Quintus Two

Quintus Three

Quintus Four

Quintus Five

Quintus Six

Quintus Seven

Quintus Eight

Quintus Nine

Quintus Ten

Quintus Eleven

Map

About the Author

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Editor’s Foreward:

At the end of the previous year’s campaigning in Gaul (see the letter Quartus) Caesar had left his legions strategically placed to prevent trouble during the winter while he returned to Rome. There he received huge public acclaim for his efforts and a record of fifteen days of sacrifices to the gods, festivals, holidays and games in the arena. It was the longest period of time ever devoted to celebrating the triumphs of any Roman general, and had been proposed by two of his rivals/friends/enemies - Pompey the Great and Cicero!

But not everybody joined in the celebrations wholeheartedly. Among his more vocal critics was Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, a descendent of a general who had also once defeated a army of Gauls and annexed the Provinica for Rome. He was very angry and jealous of Caesar, and wanted the provinces back under his control. To do this he turned not to armies, but to elections and announced to anyone who would listen that, if he was elected one of the two ruling Consuls, he would promptly strip Caesar of his armies, power, provinces and - money!

Thus, in the spring of the following year Caesar turned both to his armies in Gaul and to old fashioned politics to strengthen his position. At Luca (modern Lucca) he made a pact with Pompey that he - Caesar - would retain his control of Gaul (and his legions) for another five years, while Pompey would become a Consul and then the governor of Spain. This offer he repeated to Crassus (the father of Publius Crassus) at Ravenna, only Crassus was to become both a Consul and governor of Syria. Both men would get lucrative five-year appointments.

Cicero got nothing.

Caesar got his legions and his province, but now needed more fame and fortune. The usual way Caesar did this was to loot the provinces he controlled for all the valuables he could cart away. Unfortunately the Gauls had already been plundered and pillaged - there was nothing much left. So ... what was he going to do? Perhaps a Druid prophecy gave him the answer - he needed to put his heel in two new countries and for that he needed allies and ships.

This is where the fifth letter of Iron Shaft begins.

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(return to Table of Contents)

Quintus One:

Metilius Crispus Hispanus to his L. Cornelius Pusio honored son of Lucius, tribunus augusticlavus and patrician, greetings.

I pray to all our gods that you are well, for surely only an illness of the most serious kind has prevented you from writing to me in so long. I am not a young man and it cannot be many more seasons before I hear the ferryman summoning me across the Styx. Your words give me great comfort in these, my last few years and on the third day before the ides of September I may be celebrating my last birthday.

Titus came to me, and as you requested I have willingly written to Gaius Tequester, centurion in charge of recruiting in the Liger region, commending him for service in his legion. The name of Iron Shaft is still remembered and will carry great weight. I beg you to forget any debt you and he may feel towards me. It is my honor.

If your client is successful, as I am sure he will be, he will find service in the Liger region in Gaul very pleasant. Of all the tribes I have lived among, the Namnetes were the least warlike and the most accommodating - especially their women. I once spent a whole season in this part of Gaul, building ships for Caesar to take his legions to Britannia and fathering many children, one of which still visits me.

That is also where your father was of great help to Troucillus, the wine merchant, and added significantly to your family fortune. Much of the money your father made that year went towards his elevation to Senatorial rank and your current family status. It was my honor and duty to help him when ever I could. He has probably told you many times how I saved his life when certain ungrateful tribal priests tried to bring about his destruction, just for doing his duty. But it might interest you if I tell you my humble version. Your father’s gratitude was so large that he rarely thanked me later, so I will strip away all modesty and give you a true account of those days and deeds.

It was in the spring of the year that Pompey and Crassus finally became Consuls [55BC - ed.] that I returned to the Legio X as promised by Caesar. He was preparing to place his heel in the soil of two more countries and thus fulfill the Druid prophecy that he could not become the greatest Roman of them all until he had invaded the lands of the German barbarians across the Rhine, and taken his legions across the narrow sea to the land we call Britannia.

Fate, as she often does, had frustrated Caesar in this ambition the previous year, as I will tell you, and he was determined that nothing would stop him this time. His governorship of Gaul had just been extended for another five years and he intended to waste no more campaigning seasons. Our legions had been told to leave their winter camps and move in strength into the lands of the Belgae to prepare for both invasions, and as the last snows were melting I was given orders to leave the Legio XII [12th legion], where I was a centurion and praefectus, and report back to my original legion the Bull-X, where my future rank was a lot less certain but I would be once again among the best soldiers in all of Caesar’s army. They were my sword and shield and none better to stand beside in any battle.

In previous campaigns I had been of some service to the Hairy One [see Tertius and Quartus - ed.] and he had rewarded my assistance by a generous donative and promotion to the rank of centurion in the Legio XII. This was a valuable and deserved promotion but it meant leaving the legion in which I had been trained and served [see Secundus - ed.] and taking command of a century in a weak and untrustworthy legion that had once mutinied against Caesar.

During the previous year the armies of Caesar had marched and sacked most of the tribes of the Belgae filling his money-chests by capturing and selling of thousands of slaves. It had been a very profitable year and your father started his fortune and added to that of his patrons, the gens Braccia. Unknown to us we were also carrying a snake close to our throats; the Senator A. Dominius Epidianus - close friend of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, Caesar’s sworn enemy in Rome.

Caesar was poisoned by an oily slave of the Senator and his life was saved by a Druid healer. While Caesar was sweating near death his legions almost met total defeat at the hands and arms of the Nervii, a fierce, Spartan tribe of the Belgae, and he sent his trusted friend, Publius Crassus, to the island of Britannia to find moon pearls - the only cure for the poison that was still in his system. It was my part to go with Crassus to the Island of Dogs and help both the Druids, Commius the King of the Atrebates, and Caesar, get what they all wanted.

My reward was promotion to the rank of centurion and the dubious duty to go with that legion, the Legio XII, for one final campaign that autumn. Before I left, Caesar himself told me that the following year he was going to invade Britannia and wanted me back in his favorite legion, the Legio X. With the orders I was now carrying through the snows of northern Gaul, I was about to fulfill that promise - a year late.

Ave! shouted Paullus as I rode down the ranks of tents assigned to the I-III century. These were familiar sights to me as I had once been a member of their company. My tent, my old tent in which I had slept many nights despite the snores of my tent-mates, was rotting from the effects of a bad winter and had been patched many times with new calf-skin. Look who has come back amongst us. We are deeply honored O great centurion!

Paullus was a giant of a man, bigger than most Gauls who are usually a head taller than any Roman, and we had stood side by side during many battles. He was one of only four left in my old tent, the rest of the eight had been killed in the battle against the Nervii. As was the practice in those days the missing men had not been replaced so our tent, our century, our cohort and our legion was now below its full strength.

Have you come back to us? he shouted, running towards me and slapping the side of my horse so hard it reared up and tipped me off its back. I fell heavily into the dirt and Paullus laughed heartily at my discomfiture. This was a most undignified way of returning to my legion.

It had been a long journey from the winter camp of the Legio XII, and I had been given false information that had taken me to the camp of the Legio IX before I finally rode over a small hill and saw the welcoming palisade and vallum of the Legio X. As I had expected, our Legatus had chosen a most suitable site for the camp with plenty of fresh water and good clearances on all four sides. The Menapii, in whose lands we found ourselves, were not warriors and the previous year had fled faster than they fought, but our leader was taking all precautions and defended his camp by strong defenses and frequent patrols.

Paullus, I grinned, getting to my feet and punching him hard in the stomach in the way of old companions greeting one another after a long absence. I have returned.

Nerva, come as see what the dogs have dragged to our flaps! yelled Paulus and from my old tent emerged another of my old contubernium [tent - ed.]. It was this man who had given me the second of my garmen decii [grass honors - see Secundus - ed.] that hold men together in the battle line and honor them afterwards. In my tent I was the only one with two V shaped burns on my left shoulder.

My honor, centurion, he said with mock respect, bowing before me then butting me with his head. I had heard that we were getting the hero of Octodurus back in our ranks. We have so much to learn from him. I faint at all the envy the others tents will now shower on us.

A lesser man than I might have taken offense at the teasing and small taunting that these men were doing to test me, but I am not of their ranks and took no insult. Instead I picked up my pole [backpack of personal belongings - ed.] and pushed Nerva over backwards with a friendly elbow. We all laughed and made our way to their fire where a pot of puls was always cooking. A slave hurried up and was ordered to take my horse away for grooming after its long journey. He saw my rank and nodded deeply with respect, the first I had been shown since riding in the gates.

Where are Brocchus and Calvus? I asked as we sat down and picked up our bowls. These were the other two my old contubernium.

"Brocchus is with the signifer, Paullus told me, and Calvus is now our optio. He is at work in the centurion’s tent completing our records and he hates it," he added with wry laugh. Calvus had been our tesserarius when I had been in our tent, and this was my first news of his promotion. An optio is a valuable rank in every century, but most of his duties involve some form of writing and record keeping. I knew that Calvus who hated the reed [pen - ed.] more than he hated the Greek who had stolen his wife, would not enjoy a single hour before the ink pot. His famous temper would scorch any soldier unwise enough to make him write a word more than was necessary.

Does Brocchus still try to play the cornu? [horn - ed.], I asked, "is that why he is with the signifer?"

No, I was told, "he draws us some coin as we were going to find wine and possibly the tali tonight. But now that you are here we will keep our coins and the tali in our purse." These men knew of my skill and luck at throwing a Venus. [tali = dice and Venus = 6+6+6 a winning throw - ed.]. You will pay for the wine and possibly the women.

It was my privilege. I took some coins from my belt and ordered one of the cohort slaves to purchase a first-press wine of second quality and have it ready for the evening meal. He hurried off. We sat down near the fire as it was still cold this far north in Gaul and I pulled my sagum [cape - ed.] tighter around me. There were strong smells of good boiled pork coming from the pot and my stomach growled.

Before I could grab a plate, however, a large foot slapped down in front of us and my tent-mates jumped up stiffly.

Who is this? demanded Decius Tanicius Protus the centurion of the I-III century. Known as Crabclaw, he had taken over the century on the death of Scarface after the battle of the Nervii. I stood up very slowly and faced the new centurion. I saw a look of surprise, disbelief and anger rush across his ugly features.

Iron Shaft, he hissed and gasped, what are you doing here?

Following orders, centurion. I was commanded to return to the Bull-X by Caesar himself. I will be going with him to Britannia where I have some experience. How is my old century? I stared at him with a hard expression. I knew that this man was nervous that I would return to the legion as a centurion and possibly replace him as leader of the I-III. My question made him even more nervous.

"We await the orders of our Legatus," was all he could think to say. I watched his eyes search my tunic for signs of my current rank, but he found none and this confused him even more. Should he treat me as an equal or as a superior? I gave him no help.

I have sent for wine, would you like to join us? I asked in a voice that clearly indicated the opposite of my invitation. We are going to share some food and stories. We have much to talk about and I need to know the status of the legion before it goes into battle. This made him shake.

No, no! he stuttered, I have much to do.

You find it hard, being in command of men? I asked.

No, no, he exclaimed, moving back. These are excellent men and know their duty.

Indeed they do, I told him politely, and casually sat down again by the fire, indicating our talk was over and he could leave. After hesitating for a moment of dignity, he turned on his heel and marched away. I hope he did not hear the chuckles of Nerva and Paullus.

You should not speak to our centurion that way, grinned Paullus also sitting down and taking a crust of bread to dip in the broth. He is a good leader and very fair in his discipline. The century is in good hands, don’t annoy him, Iron Shaft. We know what you are like.

I shrugged. I did not tell