‘What’s a praetor doing with Vitellius?’
‘Vitellius? I’ve come from Otho’s army.’
At the mention of Otho my men went to grab him, thinking that he was a messenger from the enemy. The figure drew his sword, the moonlight glinting off his blade. The onrushing men halted, watching him warily.
‘I am a praetor of Rome,’ the man said, simply but forcefully. ‘Only the consuls and the emperor himself outrank me. The first man to lay a finger on me dies.’
I recognized the voice, the confidence and the authority.
‘And what does a praetor of Rome want with a renegade general like me?’
The men lowered their weapons, hearing my casual tone.
‘I want him to save the empire.’
XIII
We embraced each other in a great bear hug. Well, at least he did. I had to do the best I could with one arm in a sling.
‘Gnaeus Julius Agricola, it’s been too long.’
‘Aulus Caecina Severus, hasn’t it just?’ he said, mimicking the ironic way I had used his full name. He squeezed harder.
‘Not too tight,’ I said, wincing.
‘What happened to your arm? Some glorious wound, no doubt?’ he teased.
‘Shut up. I fell off my horse.’
‘That’ll teach you not to buy a horse you can’t manage!’
We broke off the hug and looked each other full in the face. The moon illuminated my friend’s wide, innocent face, the craggy jaw and noble countenance that turned the legs of Rome’s maidens as weak as saplings in the wind. But even the kind light of the moon couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes, or the look of a man who has been wrestling with his conscience.
‘I can’t begin to say how sorry I was to hear of your mother’s death. Otho has a lot to answer for.’
‘It’s worse than that, Otho sent them north to hinder your man Valens but it seems the navy fancied turning pirate. If ever I catch their admiral I’ll have him crucified.’
‘Not the actual killers?’
‘They’re just animals. Their officers should have held them back.’
‘Quite,’ I said. Then I chuckled. ‘I bet our mothers are laughing at us now. I don’t think either of them ever expected me to be the one who would end up commanding an army. You were always the hard worker, the general in the making, while I was skipping lessons and chasing the girls down in the city.’
Julius laughed. It was good to see him smile; I had missed his company this past year. I put my hand on his back and guided him towards an empty shack where the locals housed the old ferry, for the days when the bridge was heaving with market traffic and it took more than an hour to cross. Nobody would disturb us there.
‘And Salonina, and Aulus, are they well?’ he asked.
‘Safe and sound in Mediolanum.’
‘You brought them with you?’ Julius looked surprised.
‘Salonina wouldn’t let me leave them behind in Germania. My name is mud at the moment for keeping them in the north, out of harm’s way. And what about your wife, the Venus of southern Gaul?’
‘I think she’s happy to be back in Rome once again. I can’t stand the place, but you know what women are like. If they’re more than a mile from their favourite dressmaker or haven’t attended a society dinner for more than a week, life just isn’t worth living. Even now I suspect she’ll be charming the great and good of the city, angling for a suitor for Julia.’
I was taken aback. ‘A suitor? I thought we had an agreement?’
It was Julius’s turn to be shocked, shocked that the words had passed his lips. ‘We do, Caecina, of course we do. You know Domitia’s always had a soft spot for you.’
‘Until you married her, of course. Not all of us had the option to marry for love,’ I reminded him gently.
‘I thought you were happy with Salonina?’
‘I am, but that doesn’t explain why Domitia is looking for a husband for Julia when she’s already been promised to Aulus.’
‘Caecina, I swear to you that my daughter and your son will marry.’ Julius looked at his feet awkwardly. ‘It’s just that Domitia doesn’t approve of the match, now that you’re leading an army against Rome.’
‘Not against Rome, against Otho.’
‘Precisely, which is why I’m here tonight. Domitia’s just going to have to put up with it.’
I relaxed. Julius and I were too close to let anything come between us, and I knew he was a man of his word.
‘The perils of ambitious wives, eh?’ I joked, and Julius laughed reassuringly. ‘And if I’m being honest,’ I continued, ‘I had to convince Salonina that your family was a good enough match for our son, if we can put Vitellius on the throne.’
‘You know I technically outrank you, even if you are a general?’ he teased.
‘For the moment,’ I said.
‘But to put Vitellius on the throne, you need me.’
‘I do, Julius. Both of us know that Otho isn’t fit to rule.’
My friend wasn’t looking at me any more, but watching the army pass by, rank after rank, file by file on their way to Cremona.
‘And when I find the man who killed my mother, I’ll tear him apart and scatter his remains to the four winds,’ he said.
I put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘But that comes later, Julius. You know how close Otho’s army is, I need to defeat him.’
‘You? But what about the other column under Valens?’
‘Valens is still a few days away. By my reckoning he should have reached Augusta Taurinorum by now, four or five days’ march away. I need your help to break the back of Otho’s army before Valens even arrives.’
‘And cover yourself in glory first?’ he guessed.
‘You don’t know Valens, you don’t know what he’s capable of.’
‘Such as?’
I struggled for a moment. I’d never had to describe Valens’s shortcomings to someone who didn’t know my situation. ‘Not only was he for starting a civil war months before I was dragged into it, he murdered his own governor when he decided not to take up Valens’s offer to be the next emperor!’
‘Murdered? The dispatches to the Senate said that Valens had executed the governor for plotting to challenge Galba.’
I snorted in derision. ‘Valens killed him in case the governor decided to report the disloyalty to Galba. He’s tried to get the governor on the throne, he wanted Verginius Rufus, and now at last he’s got his man with Vitellius. And if Valens is the one that hands the empire on a plate to Vitellius then he’ll be given the free run of the city. Do you really want a man like that unleashed upon Rome?’
‘Don’t worry, Caecina, I already said in my letter that I’m willing to do anything to topple Otho. Besides, it won’t do any harm to have my childhood friend as the emperor’s right-hand man. How can I help?’
‘Good man. Our old general, Paulinus. He trusts you, doesn’t he?’
‘Completely. He’s still shocked that the man who saved us in Britannia is leading an army against him.’
‘I don’t have any grudge against the old man, he just happens to be on the wrong side. I always liked him, he doesn’t risk the lives of his men without good cause.’
‘I agree, he’s cautious but competent.’
‘But I need you to help him forget his caution for just one day. Can you do that for me, Julius?’
We made our plans, Julius and I, before he rode off into the night. By then the last of my men had crossed the bridge and were bedding down in the camp we had built not four days before, outside the town of Cremona. Cerberus was waiting for me at the camp gates.
‘Totavalas told me you were on your own talking with a praetor from Rome. I didn’t know how long to wait before sending out a search party!’
‘Totavalas needs to learn how to keep his big Hibernian mouth shut,’ I said tiredly.
‘Anything I should know about?’
‘New information. Which means we can make one last ef
fort to hurt the enemy before Valens arrives, then we can crush them together.’
‘So you’ve heard then about the detachments from the Pannonian legions?’
‘Yes, they’ve crossed the Julian Alps and are into Italia. They should be here in no more than a week.’
‘As will Valens,’ Cerberus said.
‘So soon?’
‘It seems since he heard we were attacking Placentia he’s had his column march at a flying pace to make sure you don’t do all the work before he arrives.’
‘That was the plan,’ I said bitterly. ‘But cheer up, Cerberus, we’ll cut the heart out of Otho’s army soon enough.’
For the next few days the men licked their wounds in Cremona. Some scratched at the sores under the bandages; others scratched an itch of another kind. The camp had only been up a few days before all the whores north of the Po converged on the city, or so it seemed. Let them have their fun, that was my opinion. After all, they had toiled through the Alps and lost many of their comrades to the snow and to the defenders of Placentia, with little to show for their troubles. They could spend their coin in the town, which the army would then get back through occasional levies on the city treasury. The taxes of Germania would only stretch so far.
One night I tried Valens’s trick of mooching round the barracks after the evening meal to hear the men’s gossip. Most were the usual soldiers’ grumbles. Lying on their bags stuffed with straw they missed their comparatively lavish bunks in the barracks on the Rhine, not to mention the well-built walls rather than the standard-issue tents that did little to keep out the chill night air. I shall record one conversation in these memoirs though, since the sentiment was echoed all around the camp.
‘What chance do you reckon we’ve got against Otho’s lot then?’
‘You sound as though you’ve made up your mind already.’
‘What if I have?’
‘Then there isn’t much bloody point you asking us, is there?’
‘I still want to know what you lot think.’
‘All right, all right. Old Agamemnon will have one last crack at defeating Otho. He’s got to, after that cock-up at Placentia.’
‘Tell me about it, we’ve lost almost half a legion altogether. We barely outnumber Otho’s men.’
‘How do you know how many men Otho’s got?’
‘My cousin’s one of the auxiliary scouts, remember?’
‘All right, keep your hair on! Anyway, you said it yourself, we still outnumber Otho. And he’s only got a few poxy palace guards and sailors, that new First Adiutrix legion. Not what I’d call proper soldiers.’ The others chuckled scornfully.
‘But I don’t see why we have to fight again so soon. Valens is bringing thirty thousand men from the west. Why can’t we just wait till they show up?’
‘Because by then the detachments from Pannonia will have arrived. They’ve been fighting Dacians for years, and I’m not going to knock a man who’s survived fighting that lot. Plus we don’t want any of the boys from Lower Germania sharing the spoils, do we, lads?’
‘Fuck no!’ they chorused.
‘Look, I know you’ve only been with the legion less than a year, but you’ve got to realize that we’re the famous, fighting Fourth. If the other half of the legion was here, we’d have Otho by the balls within a week!’
I smiled. These were my men; they were vicious, selfish bastards to a man, but they were my vicious bastards and no one else’s. Only one thing puzzled me. Why were these illiterate soldiers calling me Agamemnon?
* * *
We had the scouts report on Otho’s every move. I didn’t want his column having so much as a halt for a meal without my knowing. As expected, the so-called emperor branched off the Aemilian Way long before he came close to Cremona. He knew we still outnumbered him slightly, and didn’t want to risk an encounter before he was reinforced. So he crossed the Po about forty miles to the east of us, where the river began to widen so much that it was difficult to bridge without using small islands to make the building easier. In this way he managed to occupy the Postumian Way, where all he had to do was sit and wait for his reinforcements. The Pannonian legions were closest, but the men based in Moesia had a far longer march, and wouldn’t be with us for over a month. If I were Otho I would have followed the example of Fabius Maximus Cunctator, the man who had saved Rome from Hannibal by scorching the earth and starving the enemy out of Italia. Even the bountiful Po valley could only sustain my army for so long.
But I knew Otho was an impetuous man, the complete opposite of my old general, Suetonius Paulinus. My information was that Otho had brought his inexperienced brother north with him to command the army, reducing Paulinus to little more than an adviser. For my plan to work though, I had to rely on Agricola to overcome the old general’s instinctive caution and to egg on Otho into committing a part of his army to battle; then and only then could I spring the trap.
I had 16,000 men who were fit to fight. They trained for battle every day, not so hard that they would be too tired to fight, but not so little that they had enough time on their hands to dwell on the disaster at Placentia. Agricola and I had made a detailed plan for the days ahead. Valens must have had his own spies as he began to dawdle once his column came within three days’ march. He must have heard that we were encamped at Cremona and Otho’s army was holding his position away to the east at a town called Bedriacum. Most likely he didn’t want to tire his men unnecessarily, since it would be a fool who took on an army of roughly equal size when 30,000 reinforcements were just days away.
I had not been idle either. With some of Cerberus’s riders for protection I had gone to the east to scout the way ahead. I knew most of the land already; my own estate lay but a few days’ ride away. I prayed that Otho’s men and the eastern detachments had left it alone in their preparations for the campaign. Less than a week after the Placentia debacle, I rode out at the head of my diminished army, confident in the knowledge that I would thin out Otho’s men before Valens and I finally crushed the murderer’s forces.
The eastward road ran on a causeway high above the fertile fields. The pale spring sky dominated the view, looming over mile after mile of fen-like flatness. Either side of the road tall tufts of wheat stretched upwards as though vying for the sun’s attention. Great clumps of woodland littered the horizon. There might have been hundreds of peasants and slaves working in the fields that crisp morning, but we wouldn’t have been able to see them, and that was my plan: an ambush.
I didn’t dare risk my whole army for the encounter, my numbers were too few for that. Instead I took with me our entire force of auxiliaries under Cerberus and Publilius. We had Germans, Gauls, Britons, Lusitanians, not to mention our exotic cavalry from Africa. If everything went as planned, we would deliver a morale-shattering blow to Otho’s army. Everything hinged on Agricola.
Cerberus and Publilius rode uneasily, both scanning the horizon for the enemy.
‘Will the two of you relax?’ I said.
‘Sorry, General,’ Cerberus answered. ‘But in my experience if something sounds too good to be true, most of the time it is.’
‘I agree with Cerberus,’ Publilius said, tangling his fingers in his horse’s mane. ‘A spy in the enemy camp who can influence its commanders is too much to hope for.’
‘Then this is the exception that proves the rule. Julius Agricola is my oldest friend. For Jupiter’s sake, we grew up together. Julius would be the last man in the world to betray me.’
Up ahead, I could make out the place where we would set our trap. It was a small altar to the twin gods, Castor and Pollux, so the locals had called the place Ad Castores, to the two Castors. It struck me that Pollux must surely have been offended to be described as in effect a second Castor, in the same way that if someone had seen Agricola and me when we were growing up, and we had looked alike, I would have been hurt if they had simply called us the two Agricolae.
I gave the order to halt, and the column stopped almost as
one. Seven thousand infantry and about a thousand cavalry; it was an ambush on a large scale. But the location was perfect. The men had their orders. Half the infantry clambered down from the causeway and took up their positions on the northern side, while the other half went into the fields to the south. Within minutes they had as good as disappeared, except for the occasional splash and curse as someone tumbled into the huge drainage ditches that separated the fields, carrying the excess rainwater away so that the farmland didn’t become waterlogged. That left the two squadrons of cavalry: the Africans and the Gauls who had come south with us from the Rhine. They were under the command of the fearsome-looking Cerberus today. Up ahead, I could just make out a small cloud of dust on the horizon. Agricola had done his work well; Otho had fallen into the trap.
‘You know your orders?’ I said.
Cerberus nodded. ‘Just be ready to close in on them when I get back.’
He dug his heels in, and his horse took off, the two squadrons thundering as they followed the prefect towards the enemy.
‘We need to get off the road, now!’ Publilius and I dismounted, guiding our horses down the slope and into the fields where we hid along with the men. The unit nearest the road was a cohort of Germans, many of them a whole head taller than I was. Hiding among the wheat I could still see the last of Cerberus’s men disappearing along the road, vanishing for a few seconds as they entered a small grove of trees that shaded the place where the altar stood, only to re-emerge and disappear again as the causeway blocked my view. I looked around at the soldiers, and my eyes settled on one of them; a huge man, my eyes were barely level with his chin.
‘You, soldier,’ I said. ‘How good is your Latin?’
‘Quite good, General,’ he said with a harsh, barbarian accent.
‘All right. I want you to be my eyes. You can lean on my horse to get a better view.’
The man nodded his understanding and told the soldier next to him to give him a leg-up. The mountain of a man stepped up, then placed his forearms on the saddle and put his weight on them; the other soldier grunted something in German and another man came to support the trunk-like legs.
The Sword and the Throne Page 16
