Rubicon [Concluded]

[TinCow]

It was just a stream, little more than a tiny trickle of water. It sprang from the Apennine Mountains and flowed lazily eastwards, to the Adriatic. Shallow and narrow in many places, it was hardly an obstacle for a man on foot, let alone horseback. Gaius Julius Caesar had bridged the Rhine during the Gallic Wars. That was a mighty river; wide, deep, and fast-flowing. Caesar's legions had crossed it without a second thought. Twice.

Those same legions stood with him still. Legio XIII Gemina was arranged down the road behind him. Others, like Legio VI Ferrata and Legio III Gallica were still marching from their main encampments. These were not the inexperienced levies that the Senate so often raised from rural Italy, they were veterans of countless battles. Caesar's army was powerful and loyal to him alone, yet for all this might, the tiny Rubicon gave him pause.

He stood on the north side, with the dirt of Cisalpine Gaul under his feet. It was good soil, solid and fertile, but it was still subjugated barbarian land. The other side, only a few cubits away, was Italy. The other side was Roman. At that moment, in that spot, Gaius Julius Caesar was proconsul and governor of Transalpine Gaul, Cisalpine Gaul, and Illyricum. The moment he stepped forward, across that little rivulet at the head of a legion, he became a rebel and an enemy of the Republic.

Earlier that day, disturbing news had reached Caesar at Ravenna. A bill had been pending before the Senate to prosecute Caesar for various trumped-up 'crimes' he had committed as governor. This was simply the latest move by Pompey and the Optimates to tear down their greatest opponent. The loyal Populares tribunes Marcus Antonius and Quintus Cassius Longinus had vetoed the bill, but had then been forced to flee Rome under threat of violence. Without the presence of the tribunes, the bill would pass and Caesar would be stripped of all rights, titles, and powers. He would be ruined financially, forced into exile, and his career as a Senator and general would be over.

There were only two options. Caesar could accept the bill and humbly submit to the punishments, content to live out the modest life of an exile far from Rome, or he could take up arms in his own defense. Gaius Julius Caesar was not a humble man, but open rebellion was not something easily contemplated. Civil war was not without precedent in Roman history; Caesar's own uncle, Gaius Marius, had attempted it and succeeded for a short while. Lucius Cornelius Sulla had succeeded for even longer. Even so, it was a daunting prospect. And so fate found Gaius Julius Caesar staring at the Rubicon as the sun set on January 10, 49 BC, deep in thought.

He turned and looked at those loyal friends who had gathered nearby, his complexion dark and his brow furrowed. Speaking loudly, but to no specific person, he said, “Still we can retreat, but once we pass this little bridge, nothing is left but to fight it out with arms.” Murmurs circulated amongst those within earshot. All had marched here knowing full well what was planned, but a plan is entirely different from an action. As Caesar turned back to gaze on Italy, all eyes settled uneasily on him.

For a long time the party remained frozen in uncertainty. No one was willing to be the first to step across the Rubicon, not even Caesar. After a few moments, a low murmur began off to the side, and several men extended their arms, pointing across the river. There, on the other side, was a simple shepherd. As the men watched, he sat down and pulled out a flute from under the folds of his tunic. As he began to play, the notes drifted across the water, soft and melodious. He played a tune that was haunting in its beauty, and soon all thoughts of rebellion had passed from the minds of those nearby.

The sound wavered, dipping into gentle lows and barely audible highs, and before they realized what they were doing, several legionaries had crossed over the Rubicon to better hear the shepherd’s flute. As this scene unfolded, Caesar’s mind alone remained unclouded. As the first legionary took the first step across the mystical Rubicon, his mind cleared and his doubts faded. Unsheathing his gladius, Caesar gestured towards the Heavens. Those nearby noticed this grand movement and attention once again focused on the leader of the Populares. He turned to them and said in a strong and confident tone, “Let us go where the iniquity of our enemies call us.”

With that, the spell of uncertainty and hesitation was broken and the party began to move. First in ones and twos, then by the dozen, and finally en mass, the army began to cross the Rubicon. Standing now on the south side, watching the advance, Caesar’s face hardened into grim determination.

“The die is cast.”