Fortune's Favorites (19 page)

“Then we have to dislodge him,” said Crassus, stating the obvious. “It's possible.”

“But there is a hitch,” said Metellus Pius, frowning. “It seems Carbo is not entirely confined to Ariminum anymore. He's done something very shrewd by sending eight legions under Gaius Norbanus up the Via Aemilia to Forum Cornelii-see? Not far beyond Faventia. Now that is not a great distance from Ariminum-perhaps forty miles.”

“Which means he could get those eight legions back to Ariminum in one hard day's march if he had to,” said Pompey.

“Yes. Or get them to Arretium or Placentia in two or three days,” said Varro Lucullus, who never lost sight of the overall concept. “We have Carbo himself sitting on the other side of the Aesis with Carrinas and Censorinus-and eighteen legions plus three thousand cavalry. There are eight more legions in Forum Cornelii with Norbanus, and another four garrisoning Ariminum in company with several thousand more cavalry.”

“I need a grand strategy before I go one more inch,” said Metellus Pius, looking at his legates.

“The grand strategy is easy,” said Crassus, the abacus clicking away inside his mind. “We have to prevent Carbo's recombining with Norbanus, separate Carbo from Carrinas and Censorinus, and Carrinas from Censorinus. Prevent every one of them from recombining. Just as Sulla said. Fragmentation.”

“One of us-probably me-will have to get five legions to the far side of Ariminum, then cut Norbanus off and make a bid to take Italian Gaul,” said Metellus Pius, frowning. “Not an easy thing to do.”

“It is easy,” said Pompey eagerly. “Look-here's Ancona, the second-best harbor on the Adriatic. At this time of year it's full of ships waiting on the westerlies to sail for the east and a summer's trading. If you took your five legions to Ancona, Pius, you could embark them on those ships and sail to Ravenna. It's a sweet voyage, you'd never need to be out of sight of land, and there won't be any storms. It's no more than a hundred miles-you'll do it in eight or nine days, even if you have to row. If you get a following wind-not unlikely at this time of year-you'll do it in four days.” His hand stabbed at the map. “A quick march from Ravenna to Faventia, and you'll cut Norbanus off from Ariminum permanently.”

“It will have to be done in secret,” said the Piglet, eyes shining. “Oh, yes, Pompeius, it will work! They won't dream of our moving troops between here and Ancona-their scouts will all be to the north of the Aesis. Pompeius, Crassus, you'll have to sit right where we are at the moment pretending to be five legions stronger until Varro Lucullus and I have sailed from Ancona. Then you move. Try to catch up to Carrinas, and make it look serious. If possible, tie him down-and Censorinus as well. Carbo will be with them at first, but when he hears I've landed at Ravenna, he'll march to relieve Norbanus. Of course, he may elect to stay in this neighborhood himself, send Carrinas or Censorinus to relieve Norbanus. But I don't think so. Carbo needs to be centrally located.”

“Oh, this is going to be tremendous fun!” cried Pompey.

And such was the contentment in the command tent that no one found this statement too flippant; even Marcus Terentius Varro, sitting quietly in a corner taking notes.

The strategy worked. While Metellus Pius hustled himself, Varro Lucullus and five legions to Ancona, the other six plus the cavalry pretended to be eleven. Then Pompey and Crassus moved out of the camp and crossed the Aesis without opposition; Carbo had decided, it seemed, to lure them toward Ariminum, no doubt planning a decisive battle on ground more familiar to him.

Pompey led the way with his cavalry, hard on the heels of Carbo's rear guard, cavalry commanded by Censorinus, and nipped those heels with satisfying regularity. These tactics irritated Censorinus, never a patient man; near the town of Sena Gallica he turned and fought, cavalry against cavalry. Pompey won; he was developing a talent for commanding horse. Into Sena Gallica the smarting Censorinus retreated with infantry and cavalry both-but not for long. Pompey stormed its modest fortifications.

Censorinus then did the sensible thing. He sacrificed his horse, made off through the back gate of Sena Gallica with eight legions of infantry, and headed for the Via Flaminia.

By this time Carbo had learned of the unwelcome presence of the Piglet and his army in Faventia; Norbanus was now cut off from Ariminum. So Carbo marched for Faventia, leaving Carrinas to follow him with eight more legions; Censorinus, he decided, would have to fend for himself.

But then came Brutus Damasippus to find Carbo as he marched, and gave him the news that Sulla had annihilated the army of Young Marius at Sacriportus. Sulla was now heading up the Via Cassia toward the border of Italian Gaul at Arretium, though all the troops he had were three legions. In that instant, Carbo changed his plans. Only one thing could be done. Norbanus would have to hold Italian Gaul unaided against Metellus Pius; Carbo and his legates must halt Sulla at Arretium, not a difficult thing to do when Sulla had but three legions.

* * *

Pompey and Crassus got the news of Sulla's victory over Young Marius at just about the same time as Carbo did, and hailed it with great jubilation. They turned westward to follow Carrinas and Censorinus, each now bringing eight legions to Carbo at Arretium on the Via Cassia. The pace was furious, the pursuit determined. And this, decided Pompey as he headed with Crassus for the Via Flaminia, was no campaign for cavalry; they were heading into the mountains. Back to the Aesis he sent his horse-troopers, and resumed command of his father's veterans. Crassus, he had discovered, seemed content to follow his lead as long as what Pompey suggested added up to the right answers inside that hard round Crassus head.

Again it was the presence of so many veterans made the real difference; Pompey and Crassus caught up to Censorinus on a diverticulum of the Via Flaminia between Fulginum and Spoletium, and didn't even need to fight a battle. Exhausted, hungry, and very afraid, the troops of Censorinus disintegrated. All Censorinus managed to retain were three of his eight legions, and these precious soldiers he determined must be saved. He marched them off the road and cut across country to Arretium and Carbo. The men of his other five legions had scattered so completely that none of them afterward were ever successfully amalgamated into new units.

Three days later Pompey and Crassus apprehended Carrinas outside the big and well-fortified town of Spoletium. This time a battle did take place, but Carrinas fared so poorly that he was forced to shut himself up inside Spoletium with three of his eight legions; three more of his legions fled to Tuder and went to earth there; and the last two disappeared, never to be found.

“Oh, wonderful!” whooped Pompey to Varro. “I see how I can say bye-bye to stolid old Crassus!”

This he did by hinting to Crassus that he should take his three legions to Tuder and besiege it, leaving Pompey to bring his own men to bear on Spoletium. Off went Crassus to Tuder, very happy at the thought of conducting his own campaign. And Pompey sat down before Spoletium in high fettle, aware that whoever sat down before Spoletium would collect most of the glory because this was where General Carrinas himself had taken refuge. Alas, things didn't work out as Pompey had envisaged! Astute and daring, Carrinas sneaked out of Spoletium during a nocturnal thunderstorm and stole away to join Carbo with all three of his legions intact.

Pompey took Carrinas's defection very personally; fascinated, Varro learned what a Pompeian temper tantrum looked like, complete with tears, gnawed knuckles, plucked tufts of hair, drumming of heels and fists on the floor, broken cups and plates, mangled furniture. But then, like the nocturnal thunderstorm so beneficial to Carrinas, Pompey's thwarted rage rolled away.

“We're off to Sulla at Clusium,” he announced. “Up with you, Varro! Don't dawdle so!”

Shaking his head, Varro tried not to dawdle.

It was early in June when Pompey and his veterans marched into Sulla's camp on the Clanis River, there to find the commander-in-chief a trifle sore and battered of spirit. Things had not gone very well for him when Carbo had come down from Arretium toward Clusium, for Carbo had nearly won the battle which developed out of a chance encounter, and therefore could not be planned. Only Sulla's presence of mind in breaking off hostilities and retiring into a very strong camp had saved the day.

“Not that it matters,” said Sulla, looking greatly cheered. “You're here now, Pompeius, and Crassus isn't far away. Having both of you will make all the difference. Carbo is finished.”

“How did Metellus Pius get on?” Pompey asked, not pleased to hear Sulla mention Crassus in the same breath.

“He's secured Italian Gaul. Brought Norbanus to battle outside Faventia, while Varro Lucullus-he'd had to go all the way to Placentia to find asylum-took on Lucius Quinctius and Publius Albinovanus near Fidentia. All went splendidly. The enemy is scattered or dead.”

“What about Norbanus himself?”

Sulla shrugged; he never cared very much what happened to his military foes once they were beaten, and Norbanus had not been a personal enemy. “I imagine he went to Ariminum,” he said, and turned away to issue instructions about Pompey's camp.

Sure enough, Crassus arrived the following day from Tuder at the head of three rather surly and disgruntled legions; rumor was rife among their ranks that after Tuder fell, Crassus had found a fortune in gold and kept the lot.

“Is it true?” demanded Sulla, the deep folds of his face grown deeper, his mouth set so hard its lips had disappeared.

But nothing could dent that bovine composure. Crassus's mild grey eyes widened, he looked puzzled but unconcerned. “No.”

“You're sure?”

“There was nothing to be had in Tuder beyond a few old women, and I didn't fancy a one.”

Sulla shot him a suspicious glance, wondering if Crassus was being intentionally insolent; but if so, he couldn't tell. “You are as deep as you are devious, Marcus Crassus,” he said at last. “I will accord you the dispensations of your family and your standing, and elect to believe you. But take fair warning! If ever I discover that you have profited at the expense of the State out of my aims and endeavors, I will never see you again.”

“Fair enough,” said Crassus, nodding, and ambled off.

Publius Servilius Vatia had listened to this exchange, and smiled now at Sulla. “One cannot like him,” he said.

“There are few men this one does like,” said Sulla, throwing his arm around Vatia's shoulders. “Aren't you lucky, Vatia?”

“Why?”

“I happen to like you. You're a good fellow-never exceed your authority and never give me an argument. Whatever I ask you to do, you do.” He yawned until his eyes watered. “I'm dry. A cup of wine, that's what I need!”

A slender and attractive man of medium coloring, Vatia was not one of the patrician Servilii; his family, however, was more than ancient enough to pass the most rigorous of social examinations, and his mother was one of the most august Caecilii Metelli, the daughter of Metellus Macedonicus-which meant he was related to everybody who mattered. Including, by marriage, Sulla. So he felt comfortable with that heavy arm across his back, and turned within Sulla's embrace to walk beside him to the command tent; Sulla had been imbibing freely that day, needed a little steadying.

“What will we do with these people when Rome is mine?'' asked Sulla as Vatia helped him to a full goblet of his special wine; Vatia took his own wine from a different flagon, and made sure it was well watered.

“Which people? Crassus, you mean?”

“Yes, Crassus. And Pompeius Magnus.” Sulla's lip curled up to show his gum. “I ask you, Vatia! Magnus! At his age!”

Vatia smiled, sat on a folding chair. “Well, if he's too young, I'm too old. I should have been consul six years ago. Now, I suppose I never will be.”

“If I win, you'll be consul. Never doubt it. I am a bad enemy, Vatia, but a stout friend.”

“I know, Lucius Cornelius,” said Vatia tenderly.

“What do I do with them?” Sulla asked again.

“With Pompeius, I can see your difficulty. I cannot imagine him settling back into inertia once the fighting is over, and how do you keep him from aspiring to offices ahead of his time?”

Sulla laughed. “He's not after office! He's after military glory. And I think I will try to give it to him. He might come in quite handy.” The empty cup was extended to be refilled. “And Crassus? What do I do with Crassus?”

“Oh, he'll look after himself,” said Vatia, pouring. “He will make money. I can understand that. When his father and his brother Lucius died, he should have inherited more than just a rich widow. The Licinius Crassus fortune was worth three hundred talents. But of course it was confiscated. Trust Cinna! He grabbed everything. And poor Crassus didn't have anything like Catulus's clout.”

Sulla snorted. “Poor Crassus, indeed! He stole that gold from Tuder, I know he did.”

“Probably,” said Vatia, unruffled. “However, you can't pursue it at the moment. You need the man! And he knows you do. This is a desperate venture.”

The arrival of Pompey and Crassus to swell Sulla's army was made known to Carbo immediately. To his legates he turned a calm face, and made no mention of relocating himself or his forces. He still outnumbered Sulla heavily, which meant Sulla showed no sign of breaking out of his camp to invite another battle. And while Carbo waited for events to shape themselves, tell him what he must do, news came first from Italian Gaul that Norbanus and his legates Quinctius and Albinovanus were beaten, that Metellus Pius and Varro Lucullus held Italian Gaul for Sulla. The second lot of news from Italian Gaul was more depressing, if not as important. The Lucanian legate Publius Albinovanus had lured Norbanus and the rest of his high command to a conference in Ariminum, then murdered all save Norbanus himself before surrendering Ariminum to Metellus Pius in exchange for a pardon. Having expressed a wish to live in exile somewhere in the east, Norbanus had been allowed to board a ship. The only legate who escaped was Lucius Quinctius, who was in Varro Lucullus's custody when the murders happened.

A tangible gloom descended upon Carbo's camp; restless men like Censorinus began to pace and fume. But still Sulla would not offer battle. In desperation, Carbo gave Censorinus something to do; he was to take eight legions to Praeneste and relieve the siege of Young Marius. Ten days after departing, Censorinus was back. It was impossible to relieve Young Marius, he said-the fortifications Ofella had built were impregnable. Carbo sent a second expedition to Praeneste, but only succeeded in losing two thousand good men when Sulla ambushed them. A third force set off under Brutus Damasippus to find a road over the mountains and break into Praeneste along the snake-paths behind it. That too failed; Brutus Damasippus looked, abandoned all hope, and returned to Clusium and Carbo.