The Sword and the Throne

by Henry Venmore-Rowland

  ‘However,’ Publilius said, ‘as I command a bunch of Germans, I was considered not socially acceptable for the illustrious company.’

  ‘I made it in,’ Lugubrix boasted.

  Publilius looked askance. ‘Gatecrasher,’ I explained.

  ‘Ah. I’m afraid I’m used to crashing town and fortress barriers, not social ones.’

  Lugubrix had another question. ‘Are there no more auxiliary officers coming to this council?’

  I answered on Publilius’s behalf. I had only known him for a fortnight or so; nevertheless I already knew he was a popular but modest man. ‘The other officers have elected the worthy Publilius Sabinus their spokesman. It seems they are under the impression that he is a man of integrity and courage. Can’t think why…’

  Publilius smiled sheepishly. Just then the door opened, and in filed the rest of the council. Valens led the way, his face unshaven and eyes bleary. Then came some of the legionary legates from the province, all of whom I’d met briefly. There was one man I didn’t recognize, and finally Vitellius, his frame filling the doorway.

  ‘By Jupiter, I need a drink after that ride.’

  That ride couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes. Lugubrix and I had walked up from the town, but this was Vitellius. He must have had the mother of all hangovers. I can still remember, ten years later, the sight of the man burying his face in a double-handed goblet of wine. Valens had a clerk bring a pitcher of water. When it arrived, Vitellius didn’t even wait for a cup but started drinking straight from the pitcher. One of the officers brought him the room’s only chair and, pitcher emptied, Vitellius eased his mighty frame between the arms and lowered himself tentatively on to the seat. I smiled, wondering how many chairs had met their end at the hands, or rather bottom, of Vitellius.

  It was only now that Valens noticed the one man in the room who wasn’t encased in brightly polished armour. Someone had found (or perhaps made) a set for Vitellius that covered his great girth and gave him something of a military air.

  ‘Why is there a civilian in this council? And a Gallic civilian at that!’

  ‘Calm down, Valens. This is Lugubrix, my head of intelligence.’

  ‘A Gaul, with intelligence?’ one of the legates joked.

  Quick as a lightning bolt, Lugubrix drew a small dagger from inside his leather cuff and threw it at the man who spoke. It flew past the man’s ear and embedded itself in the door behind him, the hilt quivering with the sheer force of the throw.

  ‘Smart enough to smuggle a weapon into the same room as your new emperor.’

  The legate recovered his power of speech. ‘By the gods, I’ll have him strung up for trying to kill me!’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ I said, quietly but with a hard edge to my voice. ‘Lugubrix has been invaluable to me, long before I was made legate of the Fourth Legion.’

  Valens looked from me to Lugubrix, and back to me again. ‘A word, Severus.’

  We went into the corner of the room. Lugubrix stood where he was, looking defiant.

  ‘You trust this man?’ Valens asked.

  ‘With my life, he saved it when one of Vindex’s ruffians held me prisoner. It’s thanks to him I only lost this,’ I said, gesturing to the stump of the missing finger on my left hand.

  ‘Fine, but why do we need him? You’re not with the Gauls any more.’

  ‘He’s a grain merchant. Anything that happens between the River Po and the ocean, you can be sure that Lugubrix will hear about it, quicker than most. That’s how we knew that Governor Verginius Rufus was safe to approach…’

  ‘What do you mean safe? I was there that night you convinced him to stand aside for Galba, no one was going to harm you.’

  ‘Not that kind of safe. I mean we knew that we could sound him out about leaving Vindex and his Gauls alone without him running off to tell the emperor. And there’s more: it was through Lugubrix that we knew how many men you took to fight Vindex at Vesontio.’

  ‘It hardly needed a genius to work that out,’ Valens scoffed.

  ‘And if I said he was the one who told me how you and a friend murdered the governor of your own province when he refused to join you and proclaim himself emperor?’

  Valens froze.

  ‘Yes, I know your dirty secret. Vitellius might be interested to hear that particular story. I mean, once you’ve murdered one imperial governor out of ambition, what’s to stop you from murdering another one?’

  ‘Very well,’ Valens interrupted. He turned to address the rest of the room. ‘The Gaul stays.’

  ‘Welcome to our merry band!’ Vitellius said.

  ‘Thank you…’ Lugubrix paused, unsure of how to address Vitellius, ‘Germanicus?’

  ‘That is what my generals think it best to call me, so Germanicus it is.’

  ‘Now that we’ve all been introduced,’ Valens said sardonically, ‘perhaps we can return to the matter in hand?’ He took a rolled-up piece of vellum that rested against the wall and rolled it out across the table. It was a map of the western half of the empire, and I have included a copy of this in these memoirs of mine.

  ‘Priscus, bring out those numbered blocks from my drawer will you?’

  One of Valens’s men brought out a collection of wooden blocks, each with different numerals carved on it. Some were cut from wood of a lighter colour.

  ‘We have seven legions in these two provinces. Here in Lower Germania we have my legion, the First Germanica, and the Fifth, Fifteenth and Sixteenth legions.’ As he named each legion, he put the corresponding block on the map, in the towns that they garrisoned. ‘In Upper Germania, the Fourth and the Twenty-Second are encamped at Mogontiacum, and the Twenty-First at the foot of the Alps in Vindonissa. Seven legions, gentlemen, totalling over thirty-five thousand men.’

  ‘But we can’t leave the Rhine border unprotected,’ Vitellius observed. Everyone in the room knew that; only Vitellius felt the need to raise the point.

  ‘Of course, sir. If I may finish?’

  ‘Oh, please do.’ The emperor missed Valens’s sarcasm.

  ‘We also have the German auxiliaries to call upon, and that gives us another twenty thousand.’

  ‘What sort of auxiliaries do we have?’ Vitellius asked.

  ‘Mostly infantry, sir,’ Publilius answered. ‘Eight cohorts five hundred strong of Batavian cavalry, who also swim better than any tribe I know. The rest are a mix of German tribesmen, Lusitanians, Gauls and Britons, all fighting to gain their Roman citizenship. They make up the remaining sixteen thousand.’

  ‘And which men do you command?’

  ‘I’m prefect of a squadron of German cavalry, sir.’

  ‘The other prefects have elected Publilius Sabinus their spokesman, sir. He speaks for all of them,’ I said.

  ‘And the Germans are happy to fight for me?’

  ‘Truth be told, sir, they’re spoiling for a fight. It’s what the Germans do. But they do love the name Germanicus, it makes them feel like you’ve got their interests at heart. So long as they’re paid and we give them victories, they’ll follow you to Hades.’

  ‘The question before us, then, is how many men we can afford to take south without leaving the Rhine too lightly defended. After all, we don’t know how many legions will remain loyal to Galba. We have to assume that none of them will. Galba’s supporters will seek to portray us as a bunch of Germans coming to take the throne by force.’

  ‘Then we must make our movement seem more widespread,’ I said. ‘If we can convince other troops to join us, the momentum will be unstoppable, and should nullify any propaganda of the sort you mention. I have two suggestions, and Lugubrix here has some information that will help us too. First, we should convince the First Italica to join us. They were sent into Gaul by Nero to help put down the Vindex rebellion, and were the last to abandon their emperor. As we’re taking on the man who drove their beloved Nero to his death, it shouldn’t be too difficult to convince them to join us against Galba.’

 
‘Agreed,’ Valens said. The other officers nodded their assent. ‘What is your second suggestion?’

  ‘That we divide our forces.’ There was a sharp intake of breath. No right-thinking general divides his command unless he can help it. Valens’s man Priscus spoke.

  ‘Why should we? Surely we’ll weaken ourselves unnecessarily by splitting up? Galba will just pick us off piece by piece.’

  I ignored the man, instead looking at his superior. ‘Valens, would you tell your man I don’t care to be questioned by a man of inferior rank, and especially not by a mere centurion. Also you can tell him that he should address me as General.’ Valens held my gaze for a moment, waiting to see if I might back down. Then he glanced at Priscus and nodded.

  ‘I apologize, General.’ There was no tone of apology in his voice, but it would do for now. I had to constantly assert my authority with these men, as with the exception of Publilius I was the youngest in the room by perhaps fifteen years, and yet inferior only to Vitellius. And that was only because Valens and I had made him our superior.

  ‘Apology accepted. I propose we divide into two forces and take separate routes to Italia, only to meet up again on the other side of the Alps and then take on Galba’s forces. One army takes the longer, easier route via Lugdunum, so they can recruit the First Italica along the way, and hopefully recruit men to replace the numbers we have taken from the Rhine. They can cross the Alps from the west.’ I pointed out the route on the map, from the Rhine to the Rhône, and then the pass that Hannibal had once taken to enter Italia.

  ‘The other army should take the short route, through the mountain passes in Raetia. They can pick up the Twenty-First at Vindonissa, and the general can send messengers to the legion commanders in Noricum and Pannonia, trying to convince them to join our cause. Then they will meet up with the other column in the north of Italia, and pincer whatever forces Galba is able to muster, that is if he has the stomach to fight our veterans.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ Publilius said. The others made approving noises.

  ‘This way we should also reach Italia sooner, rather than travelling as one slow, lumbering column that would need huge supplies to keep it going. If we were in enemy territory we could simply take what we needed from the locals. However, I’m not sure the Gauls along the route would take too kindly to being eaten out of house and home!’

  ‘You command one column and I the other?’ Valens asked.

  ‘Surely I should command one of the columns?’ Vitellius appealed.

  ‘Of course, sir. This is where Lugubrix’s information comes in.’ I looked to my Gallic friend.

  ‘I have been talking to friends and contacts of mine in Britannia. It seems the governor there, Trebellius, has been feuding with the legates. They complain he has left the legions in disrepair by diverting their funding straight into his pockets. I understand that those legions would be more than happy to join what looks to be a profitable campaign, and of course there is the added attraction of leaving the cold north for Italia.’

  ‘Another three legions, gentlemen,’ I said. ‘Obviously we can’t take all of them in case the Britons rebel again, so instead they should send detachments and make up the shortfall locally. While Valens and I head south, sir, you should also recruit as many legionaries and auxiliaries as we can afford, giving you enough men to leave the province secure and still bring perhaps another fifteen thousand reinforcements to Italia. Galba won’t know what hit him!’

  Despite his hangover, Vitellius beamed. ‘So I am to deliver the knock-out blow?’

  ‘Indeed you are, sir,’ Valens said. ‘You will ride into Rome as a conquering general, as a Caesar.’

  ‘It doesn’t bother you then that you’ll be conquering your fellow Romans?’ Lugubrix asked.

  Vitellius shifted uncomfortably. Valens just glowered at my friend.

  ‘We will exhaust every peaceable option before it comes to that, my friend. Let us pray that Galba will accept the inevitable. Rome deserves a worthier emperor.’

  ‘Thank you, Caecina,’ Vitellius said. I acknowledged his thanks with a bow of my head.

  ‘Not at all, sir. We shouldn’t detain you any longer, you must have more pressing duties to attend to. Valens and I will stay behind to sort out the details.’

  These pressing duties would no doubt consist of a luxurious bath and an attempt to sleep off his monstrous hangover. His presence at this council was for appearances’ sake only, to assuage his vanity. That done, it was time for the real soldiers to talk. The chair creaked ominously as our emperor wriggled to escape its confines. Once free, he looked each man in the eye. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. As Caecina says, I have duties to attend to back in Colonia. I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving you.’

  We all saluted. ‘Hail Caesar.’ The word made him flinch again, but he did not correct us. He left the room, and I turned to Valens.

  ‘I think your men can be dismissed, Valens. We can sort out the details between us.’

  ‘Agreed.’ While he was asking the legates to leave us, I spoke quietly to Lugubrix.

  ‘Why did you have to ask about our fighting other Romans?’

  ‘Because I was getting fed up with the arse-licking and the pompousness, and it felt very satisfying to bring that Valens down a peg or two.’

  ‘I agree, but please don’t do it again. A judicious amount of arse-licking and Valens and I can control Vitellius. If we didn’t, he’d turn all of Rome into his banqueting hall, and all the empire his larder. The two of us can get things done.’

  ‘So this is what they call politics, is it?’ the Gaul asked, winking.

  ‘Such as it is. I’ll need you to stay here in the north to help Vitellius organize the reinforcements from Britannia, if that’s all right?’

  ‘So long as I’m paid, I’m happy. And you’ll be heading south?’

  ‘As soon as I can.’

  ‘And Quintus?’

  ‘I’ll look after him, don’t worry,’ I said. We embraced, his thatch of red hair tickling my cheek and ear.

  ‘You’ll forgive me for not showing you out?’ I asked, sounding like a host at a dinner party.

  ‘I’ll survive, even if I’m a Gaul in the middle of a Roman fortress. May the gods go with you, my friend.’

  ‘You too.’

  Valens watched my friend leave, and then we were alone.

  ‘You two seem as thick as thieves,’ he observed.

  ‘We’ve been through a lot together.’

  ‘Do you mind if we go for a walk? My head is crying out for fresh air.’

  ‘Didn’t you ride over?’ I asked.

  ‘I did, but you walked, and I can have a groom take my horse back into the city.

  ‘That’s very considerate of you.’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not as much of a monster as you think I am.’

  * * *

  It was snowing gently as Valens and I walked slowly towards Colonia. The Germanic trousers were doing their job of keeping out the cold, but still we both rubbed our hands hard to try to keep them warm. Despite his years, Valens still had a thick head of hair. Unusually for a Roman he was blond, or rather he used to be; the flecks of silver among the fading yellow now lent him an air of dignity and authority. His grey eyes looked straight ahead, even when he began to speak.

  ‘You don’t trust me, do you, Severus?’ he said, as though he were discussing the weather.

  ‘What brought you to that conclusion?’ I asked sarcastically.

  ‘You don’t like my ambition?’

  ‘Ambition? That’s putting it mildly. How many men have killed for their ambition?’

  ‘Thousands,’ he countered. ‘Hundreds of thousands, at least. I know what I want and I take it, whether I have noble blood or not.’

  ‘I thought I detected the slightest of chips on your shoulder. So you’re not a ruthless schemer then, just a misunderstood class warrior?’

  ‘Laugh if you like, but you’ve never had to work for anything in yo
ur life. I mean really work, toiling away for years for a promotion that was passed time and again to a man with better connections, to a man from “society”.’

  I could have flung my war record in his face, or told him that my father had died before I had even known him, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. To him I was a spoiled aristocrat muscling in on his chance for glory, and nothing I did or said would change his mind.

  ‘But then I’m not a cold-blooded killer either. I may come from a noble family, but with that comes a code of honour, of duty. My nobility doesn’t define me, my actions do. As do yours. That’s why I don’t trust you.’

  There was the trace of a smile on his lips, but only for a moment. ‘Life would be a lot easier if we worked together.’

  ‘But we’re not going to be together, we’re commanding separate columns.’

  ‘Only as far as Italia,’ he said. ‘Once we’ve arrived in the Po valley we’ll have to work together, and if the gods are willing, we’ll be working together in Rome as well.’

  ‘Are we not working together at the moment?’ I said.

  ‘Vitellius relies on us both equally, we each effectively run a province, have similar numbers of men under our command. It’s not as though one of us is suddenly going to be out of favour. You do realize I have as much cause to hate you as you have to distrust me?’

  ‘I don’t actually.’

  ‘You think I’m boorish, old, tight, ambitious and dangerous. I did murder Capito, you’re right. I panicked, I didn’t expect him to turn us down. But at least you know that I’m committed to Vitellius. You and I both knew this civil war was coming, all I needed was a governor with the balls for it. I tried with Verginius Rufus, Capito, now Vitellius, and I’ll stand by him to the end. Now look at you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You were born into a world of power and privilege. I had to earn my position, and yet you hold the same rank despite being almost twenty years younger than me. You’re spoilt, arrogant, mistrustful, and your ambition is far more dangerous than mine. All this time I’ve been looking for a general in Germania to do this job, while you’ve betrayed Nero and Galba both. How do I know you won’t betray Vitellius one day?’