Chapter 11: Reward and Poison

As the Third Cohort marched back through the main camp gates, the surrounding noise subsided. Soldiers from other cohorts, who just days ago had hurled insults, now stopped their work. They watched in silence as Ulixes's exhausted, blood-caked troops passed by. Their faces no longer showed disdain, but a mix of curiosity and reluctant respect. Respect is not given, Ulixes thought. Respect is seized with blood.

Even before he could dismiss his troops, a guard from Crassus's personal detail was waiting for him. "Praefectus Acilius," the guard said curtly. "Dominus Crassus awaits you."

Ulixes gave his final orders to Centurion Flamma to take care of the troops, then followed the guard towards the heart of the camp.

Inside Crassus's spacious command tent, the general was poring over a large map. In the corner of the room, Kore moved silently, pouring wine into a silver goblet. His presence was almost imperceptible, yet his watchful eyes observed everything.

"The report from the Sila Forest has reached me, Acilius," Crassus said without turning from his map. "A cohort of new recruits, against experienced scouts in their own terrain. You returned with twelve wounded, no fatalities, and brought back their leader's head."

Crassus finally turned around. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixed on Ulixes. "That was not merely a victory. That was efficiency."

"We merely followed orders, Dominus," Ulixes replied, his voice flat.

"Many can follow orders. Few can think." Crassus gestured to another map on the table, a map showing a complex network of supply lines. "Look at this. Our supply lines are a mess. Mummius is more concerned with planning victory parades than ensuring the soldiers get their grain on time."

A very faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Crassus's lips. "I have a new task for you. I want you to take this over. Reform the supply lines for the entire second legion. Ensure every sack of grain and every replacement sword blade reaches its destination. I need your mind here, not just your sword."

As Crassus spoke, Kore approached to pour wine into his goblet. Ulixes's and Kore's eyes met for a fraction of a second. No words, no smiles. Just a silent acknowledgment between two people who understood the dynamics of power in that room.

Ulixes bowed his head. "I will carry it out, Dominus."

He turned and walked out of the tent, back into the scorching sun. He now held control over the legion's lifeline. A very great gift from the general, and he knew, in the eyes of a jealous son, this gift would look like poison.

As Ulixes stepped out of Crassus's tent, back into the scorching sun, a figure blocked his path. Tiberius Crassus stood there, arms crossed, a smile that was all teeth and no warmth was plastered on his face.

"I hear Father gave you a new task, Acilius," Tiberius said, every word he spoke was coated in thinly veiled hatred. "He must be very impressed with your dirty tricks in the forest. Winning by hiding like a coward."

Ulixes stopped. He looked at the commander's son with a calm, blank gaze. His right hand remained at his side, not far from his sword hilt. "I merely followed orders and used the most effective tactics, Dominus Tiberius."

Tiberius stepped closer, his voice now a low hiss. "Don't act like a noble in front of me. I know who you are. A rat from the gutter who just got lucky. Enjoy it while you can, before you return to where you belong."

Ulixes did not retort. He simply tilted his head slightly, as if listening to a small barking dog. Then, without a word, he walked past him, ignoring Tiberius completely. He heard a furious growl behind him, but he kept walking. Engaging childish anger was a waste of energy.

That afternoon, Ulixes was in the main camp granary. The air was stuffy and dusty. He observed the slaves working, mentally noting the inefficient workflow and misplaced stacks of sacks. He was lost in thought when a clear voice called him.

"Praefectus Acilius."

Ulixes turned around. Julius Caesar stood there, observing the same scene, his eyes dissecting the workflow.

"Congratulations on your victory," Caesar said, his tone was sincere, but his eyes seemed to be weighing a hidden set of scales.

"Thank you," Ulixes replied.

Caesar looked at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I read the report. Splitting your forces to ambush from two sides in such difficult terrain. Very unorthodox." He paused, his sharp eyes seeming to dissect Ulixes's strategy. "Very risky. And very effective. You don't fight like a Roman."

"I fight to win," Ulixes replied simply.

This time, Caesar's smile widened slightly. "Of course," he said. "In the end, that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Their eyes met. In that brief silence, an understanding formed. This was not the blind hatred Tiberius showed. This was recognition. Recognition from one predator to another.

Caesar nodded curtly then walked away, leaving Ulixes alone in the dusty granary. The political map in this camp had now become very clear. He had a foolish and noisy enemy. And he had a clever and dangerous rival.

One week passed. The changes in the Second Legion's camp were palpable. The soldiers no longer grumbled about late grain rations or stale provisions. Every morning, supply carts arrived on time, their contents inspected and distributed with cold efficiency under Praefectus Acilius's direct supervision.

Ulixes stood in front of the granary, observing the camp slaves working. He had completely overhauled their system. No more haphazard stacks of sacks. Everything was stacked on wooden pallets to avoid moisture from the ground, with a clear rotation system to ensure the oldest grain was used first.

Centurion Flamma approached him, a rare smile cracked his rugged face.

"Praefectus," Flamma said. "My troops are eating well for the first time since we left Rome. Their morale is high. They say you are even fiercer than a moneylender in counting every coin and every grain of wheat."

"A moneylender ensures they don't lose money, Centurion," Ulixes replied without turning. "I ensure we don't starve before we even meet the enemy. That's a different thing."

Flamma chuckled softly, a rare raspy sound. He nodded respectfully before returning to his duties. Ulixes's success did not go unnoticed. And in a camp filled with ambition and jealousy, success often invited trouble.

The crisis came at dawn on the eighth day. Panic shouts were heard from the direction of the main granary. Ulixes arrived there in moments. The granary doors stood wide open. The pungent, sour smell of rot immediately hit him.

Inside, dozens of grain sacks were torn open, their contents spilled onto the floor. But that was not the worst of it. The entire stack on the north side was soaked, water seeping from the thatched roof which had somehow been torn in several places. The grain was now a damp, moldy, useless lump. A quarter of the legion's food supply for that week was destroyed.

Other officers began to arrive, including Mummius and Tiberius. Mummius's face was red with anger.

"By Jupiter!" Mummius roared. "Who is responsible for this mess?!"

Before Ulixes could reply, Tiberius stepped forward, his finger pointing straight at him.

"Who else, Legatus?" Tiberius said, his voice was loud, attempting a tone of triumph that did not feel earned. "Besides the man you entrusted to manage our granary! We hand an important task to a former slave, and this is the result! His negligence will starve us all!"

The accusation hung in the cold morning air. The gathered Centurions and soldiers stared at Ulixes, their faces showing confusion and doubt. The reputation he had just built was now threatened with ruin by a single disaster.

Amidst the commotion and Tiberius's hurled accusations, Ulixes remained silent. His expression was a calm mask, betraying none of the thoughts racing behind it. He simply looked at Tiberius, then at Mummius, and finally at the damaged grain sacks. He did not defend himself. He did not argue. He simply nodded at Mummius. "I will investigate it immediately, Legatus."

He turned and walked away, leaving Tiberius still ranting about his incompetence. But Ulixes did not walk to his tent. He walked to the poorer part of the camp, where the camp slaves and laborers lived. There, he found the Egyptian.

"Find the soldier who was guarding the granary last night," Ulixes said softly. "Find out who gave him extra coins."

He then found Livia, the orphan girl, who was playing rock-throwing with her friends. He knelt down. "Livia, I want you and your friends to listen. Listen to the soldiers who are gambling. Listen for anyone who suddenly has money to buy more wine today."

His net had been cast.

That afternoon, the results came. Livia reported on a soldier from another cohort who had treated his friends to expensive wine that morning. Moments later, the Egyptian arrived with the same soldier, his face pale and full of fear. The man prostrated himself at Ulixes's feet, confessing everything. He had been paid by one of Tiberius's trusted Centurions to tear the roof and pour several buckets of water over the grain stacks.

Ulixes now held his knife. But he knew stabbing Tiberius directly was a foolish move. He had a better plan.

He found Caesar observing cavalry drills, alone. Ulixes approached him.

"Caesar," he said, his tone formal.

Caesar turned, his sharp eyes immediately assessing. "Praefectus Acilius. Quite a sticky situation at the granary this morning."

"That problem already has a solution," Ulixes replied. He gestured. The Egyptian brought the trembling soldier before Caesar. The soldier quickly repeated his confession.

Caesar's face hardened. He understood the implications. Sabotage in the midst of war was treason.

"I am not bringing this to Crassus," Ulixes said calmly, as if they were merely discussing the weather. "It will destroy camp morale and disgrace his family name. A family scandal in the middle of a war is the last thing we need."

He looked directly into Caesar's eyes. "But I also cannot allow this act to go unpunished. A commander who destroys his own food supply for petty jealousy is a threat to all of us."

He let his words hang. He asked for nothing. He merely presented the facts.

Caesar looked at the terrified soldier, then back at Ulixes. A flash of annoyed yet respectful understanding appeared in his eyes. He was trapped. Ulixes had handed this problem to him, wrapping it in the flag of "the legion's good" and "loyalty to Rome."

"I am confident," Ulixes continued, "a man of your ambition and loyalty to Crassus knows what to do with this information."

Caesar remained silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Take this man away," he told the Egyptian. "I will handle it."

Ulixes nodded back. "I trust you, Caesar."

He turned and walked away, leaving Caesar to do his dirty work. He had successfully turned an attack into a shield, and now, he had successfully turned his cleverest rival into his watchdog, at least for now.

Author's thoughts : Caesar knew that civil war among officers was a recipe for disaster. Tiberius's sabotage directly endangered the entire legion's effectiveness and threatened victory in the war. For the ambitious Caesar, victory under Crassus was a crucial stepping stone for his career. He couldn't let Tiberius's foolishness ruin his chance to achieve glory (gloria).