Free Legio XVII: Battle of Zama by Thomas A. Timmes

approached us and began swinging clubs.  We didn’t stand a chance.”
    “What was the name of the caupona (low class inn)?” asked Manius.
    “Sir, it was a lupanaria (brothel) called Flying Eagle.  We go there all the time and never had a problem.”
    The next man told a similar story.  “About five of us were at the Anchor House, a respectable caupona, when a bunch of drunken Legionaries walked in and started a fight.  We gave as good as we got, but I got the worst of it.  If this would have happened at The Helmsmen, I could have understood it.  That place is the lowest of the low.  We rarely go there.  They cheat us soldiers all the time.”
    Manius asked the doctor, “Does this happen frequently?”
    “Every day,” responded the doctor.  “More men suffer from fights than real illness.  If this keeps up, there won’t be enough soldiers left to fight the Carthaginians.”
    Manius asked him, “With so many empty beds, why are you adding on to the size of the building?”
    The doctor responded, “It wasn’t my decision, but I’ve been told that if, or should I say, when Consul Scipio invades Africa and engages the Carthaginians, these beds will fill up fast enough.”
    Manius left the hospital and walked over to the Guard House.  He told the clerk sitting by the door, “Tell the Provost Marshal that Praetor Tullus would like a word with him.”  A portly Tribune soon appeared and invited Manius into his office.  “Sir, I am Sempronius, the Provost Marshal of Lilybaeum.  How may I help you?”
    “I am Praetor Tullus and have been assigned by Consul Scipio to prepare this area to train his troops.  I have a letter of authorization signed by Scipio directing the complete cooperation of all forces stationed in western Sicily.  I just visited the hospital and have discovered a major impediment to proper troop training and discipline.  I want to give you a chance to correct the problem before I take corrective action and report it to the Consul.”
    Sempronius was no fool and was suspicious. “Sir I mean no disrespect, but may I see the letter?”  Pittacus smiled as he reached into his folder for the letter.  He and Acamus had written language into the letter to deal with just about every possible contingency.  He handed the letter to Sempronius who studied it, handed it back to Pittacus and said, “No disrespect sir, but one can’t be too careful.  You are indeed authorized by Scipio to take all necessary steps to ensure a proper environment to train his troops.  What do you want me to do?”
    “I want you to ride with me to Lilybaeum and show me all the taverns the troops frequent.  The hospital is full of soldiers who should be with their Legions, but are too bruised and battered.  Everyone that I talked to said the fights occurred at the taverns. I’m planning to place them off-limits until further notice.  I expect you to place notices on the doors and guards at the entrances to turn away the Legionaries.”
    “Sir, you know that’s going to cause quite a stink among the owners!  You can expect them to be knocking on your door the next morning.”
    The town was only a mile outside the limits of the camp proper.  Lilybaeum was a jumble of taverns, brothels, therompolium (food merchants), craftsmen, day laborers, con men, and thugs.  As they rode among the twisting streets, they were greeted by prostitutes trying to lure them inside, food vendors hawking their goods, and con men trying to sell them everything from good luck charms to herbal medicine.  Cassius and Modius readied themselves for a possible fight.  “Is there any tavern you specifically want to see?” asked Sempronius.
    “Yes,” replied Manius.  “Show me the Flying Eagle, The Helmsmen, and the Anchor House.”  At each place, Manius dismounted and walked inside to look around.  The owners stared in disbelief.  They had never before seen a Praetor visit their establishments before.
    As they rode the