Nova Roma 1: De Itinere in Occasum

Nova Roma

De Itinere in Occasum

Anderson Gentry

Copyright © 2020 Anderson Gentry

Cover design by John Ladebauche

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing 2020

ISBN 978-1-944644-07-9

E-book ISBN 978-1-944644-08-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020945901

Fiction-Alternative History,

History-Ancient Rome, History- North America

Crimson Dragon Publishing

4255 S Buckley Rd, #405

Aurora, Colorado 80013-2951

www.crimsondragonpublishing.com

Contents

Introduction v

Map 1 The Crossingxii

Map 2 Terra Nova Early Settlements xiii

Prologue 1

Part One The New World

Chapter One The Storm 15

Chapter Two The Landing 33

Chapter Three The Journey Inland 61

Chapter Four The New Land 81

Chapter Five Skirmishes 115

Chapter Six Factions 137

Part Two The Novan War

Chapter Seven Casus Belli 165

Chapter Eight Maneuvers 191

Chapter Nine Setbacks 207

Chapter Ten Counterstrikes 233

Chapter Eleven Gathering Forces 257

Chapter Twelve Preparations 273

Chapter Thirteen Battle of Pompeius 285

Chapter Fourteen Intervals 327

Chapter Fifteen Champions 341

Epilogue Sumus Roma 359

Postscript 379

Coming Soon 385

Introduction

There was once a dream that was Rome. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish... it was so fragile. And I fear that it will not survive the winter.

– Richard Harris as Marcus Aurelius, in Gladiator (Universal Pictures, 2000)

Without Rome, there would be no Western civilization.

During the days of the Roman Republic and later, the Empire, it was accurately said that ‘all roads lead to Rome.’ Rome gave us the first truly modern roads, on which to move the first modern armies. Rome had the first modern sanitation, modern trade, and the Roman Republic was in place for five hundred years—approximately twice as long as the republic I live in now, the United States, whose founders used the Greek and Roman republics as models for their own. But the Roman Republic ended tragically, with the rise of the Roman Empire.

The fall of the Roman Republic and rise of the Roman Empire under Augustus Caesar is a subject that has been written about, analyzed, fictionalized, folded, spindled and mutilated in a thousand different ways, by a thousand different writers. The fall of the Republic had its genesis in the second Roman Civil War, when the forces of Julius Caesar moved on Rome. The bulk of the Roman Senate fled south, led by the Roman consul and general Gnaeus Pompey Magnus. We all know how matters in Rome unfolded after that; Julius Caesar assassinated, the Second Triumvirate, Mark Antony’s body paraded through the streets of Rome, and Caesar’s nephew and heir Octavian becoming in essence the first Roman Emperor.

But in this work of fiction, I’ve tried to come up with a slant on the second Roman civil war that is a little different, one that I do not think has been done before.

Alternative history depends on a single twist, a point in time in history where one event happens not as we know it but, in another way, with another outcome. In this work the event is the flight of Pompey Magnus and the Senate from Julius Caesar. Instead of Greece, I have Pompey Magnus and his supporters amass a fleet of ships to carry them to Spain, where Pompey had properties, and then—in a rather unabashed deus ex machina to achieve the scenario I wanted—a freak storm blows Pompey, the Senators, their families and troops to the place we call South Carolina.

Consider for a moment the implications of this on both sides of the Atlantic.

First, in Rome. Unopposed, Caesar enters Rome, as in our timeline, but there is no second Roman civil war; almost everyone opposing Caesar is gone. But Caesar was known to suffer from health issues, most likely the result of battle injuries in his youth. He may well have not lived long after seizing dictatorial control even without the acts of Brutus, Cassius and the other assassins. As he had no son, the ambitious Octavian may well have been his heir in any reality.

But it is in the New World that this story is focused. Think about the implications of landing a Roman expedition on the shores of North America in 49B.C., in a land then populated by early Indians of the little-known mound building culture of pre-Columbian America. Imagine the impact of Roman technology, Roman society, Roman government and—most importantly—Roman arms on those people. When Europeans first landed in the New World in our timeline, they had the overwhelming technological advantages described in anthropologist Jared Diamond’s excellent Guns, Germs and Steel—not least of those was the first. Republican-era Romans, on the other hand, have advantages but they are not so great as to be overwhelming. Unlike the Spaniard’s cannon, the Roman gladius is something a pre-Columbian Indian would understand as a superior version of something he might craft himself. The two societies would have to deal with each other on something more like an even footing.

But the story wouldn’t stop there, of course. Imagine, as their history unfolds, the continuation of a Roman Republic in the New World—a Republic where no Caesar arises, a nation founded by the likes of Marcus Porcius Cato and Marcus Tullius Cicero. Imagine the influence a Cato would have on that founding–Cato the Stoic, who modeled his life after the virtues and ideals of the earliest days of the Republic, the virtues and ideals in place before the Marius/Sulla civil war which indirectly led to the rise of Caesar.

Imagine a new Republic begun with the standards and ideals of the old but surviving and growing half a world away from the old, in a place where the Empire not only never rises but never falls, in a new world where the Dark Ages never happen, where the people do not lose nearly a millennium to starvation, ignorance and disease —and where the new Romans will one day look back across the sea and decide, after enough time has passed, to go back, to see how old Rome fares.

That is the scenario in the Nova Roma series.

For those interested in the history of ancient Rome in our timeline, I strongly recommend several works.

First of all is Livy’s History of Early Rome, for an excellent work on the founding of Rome and the rise of the Republic. Livy was a scholar who knew Rome and Roman society as few others, and his insights on the founding of the Republic are revealing.

For a later history, read Edward Gibbon’s excellent The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Gibbon’s work chronicles what happened to Rome well after the events of the second Roman Civil War from which this story takes its genesis, but it remains one of the best examinations of why Imperial Rome fell into disarray and was, eventually, overrun.

G. Suetonius Tranquillus’ The Twelve Caesars is a great work produced by someone who, like Livy, actually knew old Rome, who walked the streets and knew the culture, the people.

For an excellent illustration of how the Roman army worked on campaign in the era of the Republic, read Julius Caesar’s The Gallic Wars. Caesar figures only marginally in Nova Roma, but he was a brilliant tactician and a canny politician, which made him a very dangerous opponent to our timeline’s Pompey Magnus and his Senate supporters. His account of the campaign in Gaul is well worth reading.

Finally, if television appeals to you, catch HBO’s stunning miniseries Rome. It plays around with the history some, but the attention to detail is outstanding, the character development is very good, and the storyline is well developed. The series excels in one area, namely that it does not only portray the lives of Roman nobles but also the common people, the plebs, the soldiers, merchants and artisans of Rome.

Once, all roads led to Rome. Now, Rome stands as the source of all roads that led to modern Western civilization. In fiction and in fact, Rome excites the imagination as few other nations ever have.

To Dawn

Empress of my heart

Nova Roma

De Itinere in Occasum 

Map 1 The Crossing

Map 2 Terra Nova Early Settlements

Prologue

Rome

It was a lovely late winter evening, with the cool mild air typical of Rome at that time of year. The show in Theatrum Pompeium was entertaining; the actors were portraying some event that had taken place during a trial of an accused murderer several days earlier. Despite the best efforts of the actors and their outrageous antics, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, commonly known as Pompey Magnus, general of the Roman Army and former consul of Rome, was not amused. The news from the north was too dire.

Pompey was a heavy-set man with broad features and thin, graying hair which he kept cut close to his head in a soldier’s fashion. Well into middle age but still physically powerful, he was regarded as a great hero, from the campaigns of his youth in Italia, Africa and Hispania as well as his clearing the Mediterranean of pirates. More recently he had formed part of the triumvirate that effectively ruled Rome, along with Julius Caesar and Marcus Licinius Crassus, but now Crassus was dead, and Caesar…

Pompey looked past his fifth wife, Cornelia Metalla, to see Marcus Porcius Cato watching the show with a sour look on his face. He regarded Cato the Younger; the Senator was younger than Pompey, long-faced, thin and wiry where Pompey was built like a bull. Cato was rarely cheerful at the best of times; his Stoic inclinations saw to that. With the news that day had brought, however…

Caesar, Cato was muttering, barely audible to Pompey’s aged, war-battered hearing. Cato was shaking his head. Caesar, he who would be a king.

Pompey had bragged that he could raise an army by stamping his foot on Roman soil. He had stamped that foot, and four legions awaited his command on the field of Mars, outside the city. But Gaius Julius Caesar had crossed the Rubicon and was heading towards Rome herself. Caesar had but one legion, but that legion was the fabled Thirteenth, battle-hardened veterans of the Gallic wars to a man, and to a man fiercely dedicated to Caesar.

Pompey was nervous. The very gods themselves seemed to walk with Caesar.

At fifty-six, Pompey was still strong, still vital. He was the grand old oak of Roman arms, a great hero, but he sensed his time had passed. The ascendancy of Caesar was at hand.

He was not at all certain his army was a match for that of Julius Caesar.

The evening ended with applause from the throngs in the massive theater, paid for by Pompey himself. He had devoted his life to the Republic, serving as general, governor and consul, but now his service looked to have been for naught.

The play was ending. The crowd erupted in laughter and applause, and many turned to where Pompey and Cato sat in one of the higher boxes. Shouts of Pompey Magnus echoed from the marble walls; he had built this theater at his own expense, and the Roman people favored him for it.

Pompey stood up and wrapped his robes tighter, waving to acknowledge the applause. My dear, he said softly, extending his hand to Cornelia. She stood, smiling; she was a quiet woman, but not shy. Her confidence in her husband was absolute, which at the moment shamed him a little.

We meet tomorrow morning, Cato reminded him. This issue must be decided before the next day is out.

It will be, Pompey agreed. It will be.

It had better be, Cato complained. We face a bitter choice, Pompey. I tell you…

Not here, Pompey snapped. He waved a hand at the crowds around them. Tomorrow, Cato. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Go home. Sleep.

Cato frowned, staring at Pompey from hooded eyes. He was a tall man, spare, dressed in a simple wrap of gray linen that hung down over narrow, calloused bare feet, quite unlike Pompey’s rich robes of orange and gold. Cato took his personal Stoic philosophy seriously, to the point of eschewing most creature comforts–even shoes. Yes, Cato agreed at last, his tone still sour. Tomorrow. He nodded his farewell to Pompey, bowed politely to Cornelia, and wandered off through the crowd.

Cornelia wrapped her arms around Pompey’s left arm and squeezed gently. What meeting tomorrow?

Nothing you need concern yourself about for now, Pompey said, not wanting to worry his young fifth wife; he loved her very much. I will let you know if you need to make any preparations. He sat back down to wait for the crowd to thin out. Cornelia sat down beside him.

Cornelia’s smile faded. I’m not some empty-headed shepherd girl, you know. My father was a consul of Rome just as you are.

Pompey looked straight ahead, frowning, saying nothing.

It’s Caesar, then, Cornelia said.

Yes, Pompey admitted. He smiled, still looking straight ahead. "You know, I remember when he was just a boy, no more than sixteen. He had this fire about him, even then; did you know he was captured by pirates when he was just a principale? The pirates asked him if they should demand twenty talents ransom for him, and Caesar, that impudent pup, told them they should demand no less than fifty."

He was an enemy of Sulla. When Sulla managed to make himself Dictator, he very nearly had Julius executed, since he was Marius’ nephew; I wonder sometimes if Sulla’s example was what set Caesar on the course he’s on now. If Cato is right, and he really does want a crown, then… I shall have to… His voice trailed off, sadly, as they got up to leave the now nearly empty theater.

You shall have to fight him. You have four legions outside the city, do you not?

Four legions of green recruits leavened with a few veterans, Pompey muttered. I have four legions to throw against Caesar and his battle-hardened men, who are marching even now from Gaul.

Cornelia was not about to let the matter drop. I know you are meeting to discuss Julius Caesar marching on Rome. Should I prepare the household to move? Will we leave the city to Caesar?

I don’t know, Pompey said. He headed for the theater exits, now that the crowd had mostly thinned out, for the walk home. We’ll decide tomorrow— myself, Cato, Cicero, and some of the others. I don’t think the Republic can survive another civil war. I never thought I’d see two in my own lifetime. There has to be a better way. No man should be above the law. Sulla himself was elected Consul three times—the law allows once. Once! What good the law if the nobles can bend it to suit themselves?

You are beginning to sound like Cato, his wife teased gently.

I sometimes think I should listen more closely to Cato.

I think, Cornelia said, that I will start the servants to packing.

Pompey said nothing.

They walked home through the streets, the bustling, thrumming, vibrant streets of Rome. We are going to have to leave, the thought kept running through Pompey’s head. He was greeted by a scarred, one-armed old veteran who saluted, clumsily with his left arm. General Pompey! the man shouted, his voice and bearing a trifle unsteady.

Pompey’s practiced eyes swept over the man, taking in his ragged tunic, his unkempt hair, his dirty, unshaven face. Pompey also noted the legion tattoo on the man’s shoulder. He pressed a coin into the old soldier’s hand. Salve, soldier. Get yourself something to eat.

The soldier looked at the silver denarius in his hand—enough for a hot meal, a drink, a bath, even a bed for the night. His face brightened. He saluted again, shouting: Very grateful, sir!

Pompey smiled, slapped the old soldier on the back, and walked on.

He’s likely to just go on a binge with a jug of wine and a prostitute, you know, Cornelia gently teased.

He served as a soldier of Rome, Pompey said. I think that entitles him to a jug of wine if he chooses, my dear, Pompey teased right back; he wisely didn’t mention any prostitutes. He was no stranger to married life, after all, and knew all too well how to avoid the pitfalls.

Cornelia smiled and patted her husband’s arm. The couple walked on through the twilight.

Next morning

The meeting was small; Pompey and Cato were joined by Marcus Tullius Cicero and Metellus Scipio, Pompey’s father-in-law. The four men met in Cicero’s house, attended only by a pair of Cicero’s personal servants. None of the other Senators were to be brought in; not as yet. The servants brought in cups of sweet fruit juice with ice—a luxury of considerable expense—and withdrew to leave the men to their planning.

The discussion had already gone on for over two hours. Greece, Cato said, for probably the hundredth time that morning. Cicero agreed with him, but Pompey was not convinced. Scipio wavered between advocating for Greece and suggesting a half-dozen other destinations.

It has to be Greece, Cato continued. Greece is sufficiently distant from Rome that Caesar cannot easily follow us, not with his entire army. We can regroup there, raise more legions…

And what of the four legions we already have here in Rome? Pompey demanded. How can we, with four legions, evade Caesar with one? Is it not more difficult for us to move than he? You are not a soldier, friend Cato; you do not understand the difficulties of marching such a large body of men over that distance. They need to be provisioned, we will need supply trains, wagons… His voice trailed off as he began to mentally compile a list of what would be needed to move his army to Greece.

His musings were not allowed to continue. You say I am not a soldier, but I have led men in battle, Pompey, Cato snapped. I have not seen as many battles as you, to be sure, but I am not ignorant of military matters. I commanded a legion in Macedonia, do you remember? Why must we flee his one legion when you, Pompey Magnus, control four right in the neighborhood of Rome itself? he demanded. You have four to one odds!

Pompey let out a dramatic sigh. I have four untried, unblooded legions, Cato. Four legions of men who have had elementary training but have never smelled the stinks of battle. Caesar has one legion, but it is the Thirteenth. The Thirteenth of Gaul, of Alesia. The conquering Thirteenth. They beat Vercingetorix, they swept all of the Gallic tribes before them, even outnumbered ten to one, twenty to one! My four novice legions would be no match. There are some veterans in the ranks, true, some of the officers, some of the senior legionaries have joined the Evocati, but not enough. Not enough.

They are soldiers of Rome, Cato pointed out.

And so are the veterans of the Thirteenth.

He can move faster than we overland, it’s true, Cicero said. But can we go by sea? There are ships available at Ostia. What if we move our legions to Greece—or to Alexandria—by sea? Have we enough ships?

I’m not certain, Pompey mused. Perhaps… He did the calculations in his head; triremes and some larger quadriremes were available, but were there enough for four legions? Pompey had more than a little experience with ships, from chasing pirates; four legions, some hangers-on, the Senators, their families and a few servants; if they could get the right sort of ships, thirty or thirty-five ships would do. The extra people would be a burden, but the members of the Senate that were with him, they and their families would have to go as well. They could hardly leave them in Rome to face Caesar’s anger.

If there were enough ships, should they use them to flee Caesar? To Greece?

Or somewhere else?

No, Pompey said suddenly. The thought came to him like a blinding flash of light. No, we will not go to Greece. Nor to Alexandria. We will use ships, but we will not go east. He pointed to the map that Cicero had laid on the table they sat around. We will go west. I campaigned in the west in my younger days, do you all not remember? I have properties and coin in Hispania. We can raise men there as easily as in Greece. Caesar will not expect us to move in that direction. We need to take the initiative from him. For once, we need to make Caesar react to us.

How will we pay these legions you plan to raise? Scipio wanted to know. "Do your own resources stretch so far?

We will take the treasury gold, of course, Pompey said. It was as though the plan had sprung, fully formed, into his mind. We will take the treasury gold, our four legions, our allies in the Senate, our families—and we will take ship at Ostia. Prepare yourselves, my friends, prepare your families. I want to leave for Ostia in five days.

So soon?

I would leave sooner, Pompey answered Scipio, but we need to send orders to have every available ship from every port sent to Ostia to meet us; we need to gather provisions for the legions, and we need to prepare to move the Treasury.

Cicero raised a hand. We should consider the effect our abandonment of Rome will have on the plebs. It will not be viewed favorably; it will make our return difficult.

If we can raise an army to defeat Caesar in the field, Pompey said, We can worry about that when Rome is once more ours to return to. If we cannot… Well, then we will have few worries after that, neh? Come, my friends; we have much to do, and not much time to do it. I will see to the legions. Cato, please see to arranging transport for the treasury. Cicero, arrange transport to Ostia for our families. And Scipio, draft correspondence to arrange for the ships. Are we agreed?

The others looked doubtful, but Pompey spoke with great force; it seemed the old soldier was once more in his element. His recent uncertainty was gone now. The old soldier saw a clear course of action ahead.

Cato finally broke the silence. I agree, he said. Hispania, then. Cato was not a polished speaker, but his opinion carried great weight among the other Optimates. Cicero and Scipio looked at each other, then nodded. The plan was set.

Ostia, ten days later

The Ostian docks were ablaze with activity. Various freighters, naval triremes and quadriremes were pulled up to the docks. Soldiers loaded gear aboard, shouting sailors brought in provisions and filled water casks.

To Pompey Magnus’ left, three sweating drovers wrangled a small herd of squealing, enraged pigs aboard a small freight hauler. To the right, a centurion oversaw the loading of several cavalry horses. Pompey knew several other ships had loaded goats, chickens, even a few ducks; the only way to have meat on a voyage like this was to take it aboard on the hoof.

Nearby, legionaries lugged heavy chests aboard a wide-hulled cargo ship under the watchful eye of two centurions and a white-robed Senator: the treasury gold. Raising an army would be impossible without it.

Footsteps sounded on the dock behind him. Pompey turned to see Marcus Tullius Cicero approaching, a wide grin on his face.

I tell you, Pompey, I never would have believed it, Cicero exulted. Who would have thought, in all the world, that we could assemble forty ships so quickly!

The treasury is loading, Pompey said, his satisfaction evident. The legions are on ships. Using the legionaries as oarsman was a brilliant idea, Cicero; we never would have put together enough ships to move the better part of two legions without it. And the two we are taking are formed from the best of the four I had raised. All the veterans of Africa, Greece and Gaul will come with us, along with the very best of the new men.

That is a wise choice, Cicero agreed.

The Senators that are going, their families and households are loading as well. We will be able to leave Ostia for Hispania by noon. Caesar will not expect this; no, he will not expect this, Pompey chuckled.

I must say, I didn’t expect it myself, Cicero said. Forty ships. Extraordinary, General! Extraordinary.

Cato approached them; his expression carefully neutral. The loading is almost complete. I don’t like the look of those clouds to the east, he pointed over Pompey’s shoulder.

Pompey turned and regarded the approaching high clouds with a practiced eye. They were gray clouds, whipped out into long trails by a wind high in the sky. The sky was growing darker behind them. They look nasty, he opined, but they won’t amount to much. A bit of wind, a bit of rain. Nothing to worry about. He slapped Cato in the back in a rare display of good fellowship. Come on, my friends. Let’s get on board our ship. Let that little bit of a storm blow us towards Hispania. Pompey was satisfied, for the moment. Caesar would enter Rome to find it mostly undefended, the key members of the Senate gone, and the treasury empty.

That would do, for the time being. He had the flower of the Senate with him. He had the Treasury gold. He had two legions of men. Pompey knew he could raise more troops in Hispania, feed and equip them, return to face Caesar with an army at his back. Rome would be saved. He would reap the glory of being its savior.

He was wrong.

Pompey Magnus headed for the big freighter that his wife, sons and daughter were already aboard. He walked up the gangplank, nodded to the ship’s scrawny, bandy-legged Spanish captain, and went below.

Behind him, a gust of wind rattled the freighter’s linen sails. The first few drops of rain were falling as the first ships left the docks. Pipers piped a cadence, oars dipped into the water, and the first ships moved off into the Mediterranean, heading west.

Part One

The New World

Chapter One

The Storm

Pompey Magnus led the exodus from Rome on the kalends of March in the first year. Forty and one ships set forth from Ostia bearing the better parts of two legions of infantry and several cavalry horses. A large portion of gold was aboard as were the Optimate Senators and some family members. Some various civilians also found their way aboard.

All ships set forth for the port of Gades in Hispania where Pompey Magnus had properties and coin to raise further troops. The goal was to oppose the invasion of Italy by would-be tyrant Gaius Julius Caesar who was invading from the north and had even then crossed the Rubicon under arms against Roman law. Caesar had the loyalty of his Gallic legions which accompanied him, and Pompey knew it necessary to raise more arms and men to defeat Caesar.

This journey to Gades did not succeed as planned. What became of the traitor and lawbreaker Caesar was never known. The fleet of ships, having departed Ostia in good order, were instead caught in the teeth of a storm mightier than any previously known, and taken away to a place no man had suspected to exist. Those lands, this Nova Terra, were passing strange lands, inhabited by strange natives and even stranger flora and fauna. What unfolded from the arrival of Pompey and his party, is the ongoing subject of this record.

—From Gnaeus Pompey Novus’ New World Diaries

The Mediterranean

In the center of the Mediterranean, south of Greece, a mass of cold air flowing south from eastern Europe met the warm air masses over Judea and Syria. The result was a swirling mass of high winds and rain as the warm air dumped whatever moisture it had into the sea.

Moving west, the storm quickly grew in size and strength, fueled by the hot air over Egypt. When it made landfall in Italy, the storm met the Alps on the north and a high-pressure air mass over Italy, which served to funnel it westward. This channeled the swirling mass into a torrent of air, blasting westward, driving heavy rains before it.

In the Atlantic, a massive tropical storm was forming just west of what would later be known as the Ivory Coast. When the two storms met, the result would be a once-in-a-millennium event, a maelstrom of indescribable proportions, which would drive anything at sea helplessly before it.

It was this storm that awaited Pompey Magnus and his company as they set sail from Ostia.

Nearing Gibraltar

Bamil Barca was an adequate ship captain, but Pompey did not like him personally; the scrawny, wiry little Spaniard was too sure of himself. And one thing he was sure of today: He did not like the following wind that was blowing large, dark clouds in their direction.

Barca’s ship was not one of the Roman triremes that hauled troops. It was a freight hauler, a large converted grain ship; Barca made his living taking valuable cargoes from port to port, from Judea to Alexandria to Ostia and anywhere else there was gold or silver to be had. When the call had gone out from Rome for ships, Barca had been in Ostia delivering a load of mixed cargo from Alexandria and had seen the opportunity to line his purse with some Roman coins.

Pompey considered Barca little more than a barbarian. The little shipmaster shaved his head but let his beard grow, like some hairy Gallic chieftain; he wore a leather jerkin stained black with sweat and dirt that he had apparently lived, eaten and slept in for several years, and he chewed continually on sticks of some Eastern spice he had picked up someplace or other. He was also strangely evasive about how and when he came