The Horse Coin

by David Wishart

  ‘Governor, forgive me, but now it's you who're being hard.' Aper was looking over towards Uricalus, who was carefully ignoring them. 'If we're to build a province then we need merchants as well as soldiers.'

  'So Procurator Catus keeps telling me.' Paullinus smiled. 'I tell him that the fellows are his concern, not mine. That's why the good gods created procurators and cursed us with London.'

  'But surely you must assume some responsibility for them?'

  'Ultimate responsibility, of course, but in practical terms my sphere and the imperial procurator's are quite separate. Which suits me perfectly. As the senator has so kindly just pointed out to me, my prime duty is to finish what my predecessor started and settle the hash of these hooligans on my western borders.' He turned to Agricola. 'Am I right, Gnaeus?'

  'Yes, sir. Totally.'

  Aper pulled at his ear. 'I'm sorry, Governor,' he said, 'but I don't agree. You're right as far as the mountain tribes are concerned, of course you are. But what about the tribes who're already beaten? Our own Trinovantes, for example, or Prasutagos's Iceni?'

  'Commander, please!' Paullinus was not smiling now. 'You're an intelligent man, so don't talk like a soft-brained liberal. I know the theory as well as you do. Shave their moustaches, put them in mantles, give them a bath and the result is civilisation. Do you genuinely believe that?'

  'It worked in Gaul.'

  'True. Of course it did, and given time it will work here, I'm sure. But you've answered your own question: when they're beaten, you said. The British will never be properly beaten until we control the whole bloody island, and that will be a long, hard struggle. Perhaps Gnaeus and your son here will see the end of it, but I certainly won't. Which reminds me.' He turned to Severinus. 'I understand that the present commander of the First Aquitanians is overdue for promotion. I make no promises, but it seems that there's already a family connection.' He looked at Aper. 'I'm right, am I not, Commander?'

  Aper smiled. 'Aye, sir,' he said. 'I had them myself as a first command twenty years ago. Marcus'll look after them, won't you, lad?'

  Severinus’s brain had gone numb.

  Holy Mothers, he thought, the Foxes! He’s giving me the Foxes!

  'Marcus?' His father elbowed him in the ribs. 'Marcus!'

  'I'm sorry,' Severinus swallowed. 'Thank you, sir. I’m –'

  'No need for that.' Paullinus caught the eye of a passing slave and put his half-empty cup down on the man's tray. 'Good officers are rare, and from what your father tells me I think you'll make an excellent one. Leave it with me for the present. And now I'm afraid I really must go and write up some reports. For the moment, then.' He turned to Agricola. 'Gnaeus, you're in charge down here. Circulate. See that your long-haired compatriots don't auction off the spoons.'

  'Yes, sir.' Agricola gave a smile that was younger brother to Paullinus's. 'Commander, we'll meet again soon, I'm sure. Severinus, a pleasure. And my sincere congratulations.'

  He moved off to join a group that included the port commander Licinius Castor. Aper watched him go, frowning.

  'A good man, that,' he said, 'although a little close between the eyes.'

  'You knew, didn't you, Dad?' Severinus said. 'About the Foxes?'

  Aper chuckled and patted his son's arm. 'Aye, of course I did,' he said. 'Before Paullinus himself, in fact. Now. Have you had enough? Or should we go and unruffle Uricalus's feathers?'

  Severinus grinned. 'No,' he said. 'Let's go home.'

  3.

  The hail had turned to sleet when they left the residence, and their cloaks were heavy with freezing water long before they had ridden the four miles to the villa and made out the glow of the torch that Trinnus the house-slave had set beside the door. The wind died as they walked the horses through the outlying garden into the shelter of the yard.

  Severinus slid from Tanet's back. The villa door was already open, and Trinnus was running to meet them, his short, stubby body completely hidden beneath a hooded leather cloak.

  'You get yourselves inside, sirs,' he said. 'I'll see to the horses.'

  'Bless you, Trinnus.' Aper dismounted and shook himself like a dog, scattering slush from the folds of his cloak. 'Sweet Mothers, what a bloody awful night! You've the furnace lit?' The furnace that fed the hypocaust beneath the dining-room floor was Aper's pride and joy. Having it installed by the Twentieth's chief engineer when he had built the villa ten years before had cost five jars of top-grade Burdigalan wine and one of Damascus figs in honey. Apart from the governor's own, it was still the only one in the Colony.

  'Aye.' Trinnus took a firm grip of the reins: Tanet and Pollux were already moving towards the stable. 'The mistress told me to fire it up when you left. We've burned half a forest today already.'

  'Good.' Aper blew on his fingers. He was shivering. 'Mothers, I'll have the bone-ache for this tomorrow.'

  Severinus grinned. 'Get inside and dry off, then,' he said. 'I'll give Trinnus a hand with the horses.'

  'Right you are, boy. A hot mash and new bedding for both of them, Trinnus. They've deserved it. Oh.' He paused beneath the porch roof. 'And we'll have the other half of the forest burned while you're at it, please.'

  The dining-room was hot as an oven: Trinnus had brought in an extra brazier, and a jug of mulled wine simmering on its edge added a layer of aromatic steam to the scents from the kitchen. Severinus’s mother Ursina lifted her plain square face to be kissed.

  'Your father's told me about the Foxes,' she said. ‘Well done, Marcus.’

  Severinus moved to the brazier and warmed his hands at the coals before pouring out a cup of the spiced wine. 'It wasn't a definite promise,' he said.

  'Nonsense.' Aper, comfortable now in an old tunic and slippers and red as a boiled lobster, sipped his own wine. 'The governor wouldn't've spoken otherwise. Besides, he's right: Clemens is long overdue for promotion; he's a good man, cavalry to the bone like his father, and he's had the Foxes five years now.'

  Sulicena, the family's only other slave, appeared from the kitchen with a casserole. She set it down and lifted the lid, filling the room with the scent of pork stew and sage. Severinus brought his cup to the table and lay down, tugging the old woman's pigtail in passing.

  'So it went well, sir,' she said to Aper. 'The meeting with the governor.'

  'Aye, it did.' Aper held up his plate. 'Very well indeed. We'll have another wing in the family yet. And that was a good knot today, Marcus, despite the weather. The lads can be proud of themselves.'

  'They'll be drunker than Silenus's donkey tonight, then.' Ursina was smiling: post-games celebrations came as no news to the daughter of a legion's First Spear and the wife of a cavalry commander.

  'And good luck to them.' Aper turned to Severinus. 'Who's buying, did you hear?'

  'Dannicus.' Severinus moved out of the way of Sulicena's ladle.

  Aper chuckled. 'No surprises there, then,' he said; traditionally, after a knot, the least successful rider paid for the night's beer and wine. 'Dannicus would be my choice, too. He deserved it, the silly beggar.'

  'His horse stumbled at the cast. Or so he claimed.'

  'Is that so, now?' Aper licked a splash of gravy from his thumb and spooned up a dumpling. 'It may have happened once, but twice is stretching things. He'd two clear misses on the run and a third so close to old Pegasus's stifle it shaved the hairs. That's not bad luck, it's sheer bloody carelessness, and he won't live it down in a hurry. Mind you, I'd've expected a better excuse than a stumble from a prime con-artist like Dannicus. When I think of the times I had the devious beggar up on a charge and he wriggled out–'

  'You were too soft, Titus.' Ursina took the bowl of vetch from Sulicena. 'You were always too soft.'

  Aper sighed. 'Bear-cub, rules are made to be stretched. You know that yourself. Dannicus was a good trooper, and he did well enough when it mattered.'

  'Maybe.' She was smiling as she served the vetch. 'So, then. How does our new governor measure up?'

  Aper broke a piece of bre
ad from the loaf.

  'Well, now,' he said, 'I think I might let the young company commander here answer that. If he's going to start assessing men he'll need the practice.' He turned to Severinus. 'Come on, boy, let's have it; answer your mother. How would you rate Paullinus on a scale of ten? Foxes aside, mind.'

  Despite the light tone, Severinus knew he was being tested and that he was expected to pass: soft or not, Julius Aper took his duties seriously. And before the Icenian knife had taken out his eye at Alodunum and sent him into retirement he had been one of the best commanders of cavalry west of the Rhine.

  'As a soldier or a governor?' he said.

  'Good lad.' His father nodded in approval. ‘We'll have both, please.'

  'All right.' Severinus paused, marshalling his thoughts. 'He's an experienced and successful soldier. That's a matter of record. He knows his own mind, he has the courage of his convictions and he isn't afraid to put them into practice. As a general he'd be hard, thorough and fair.'

  His father grunted. 'Very well. Marks out of ten?'

  'Eight.'

  'Only eight, eh? And why’s that?'

  'He thinks in too straight lines. And he believes he has the answer to everything.'

  ‘Fair enough. You wouldn't trust him to make an important decision, then?'

  'Not altogether, no. Not if it meant taking several factors into account.'

  'I agree.'

  'On the other hand he'd base any decision he took on the facts, or at least the facts as he saw them, and once he'd taken it he'd push it through whatever the odds. So the end result might be the same.'

  'You think so?' Aper frowned. 'Well. Maybe you’re right; we'll let it pass. Not bad, Marcus. Not bad at all. Now as governor, please.'

  'The same applies. He'll govern the way he commands. No discussion and no argument.'

  'Is that so bad?' Ursina put in. 'We're a frontier province. We need a strong governor.'

  'Marcus?'

  Severinus hesitated. 'I agree, but only up to a point. I’d trust him where the military side of things went, certainly; on the civilian side, I'm not so sure. You saw how he treated Uricalus, and Uricalus saw it too; that wasn't necessary, or wise. Nor is a hands-off agreement with the procurator, whatever his personal feelings are. Whether he likes it or not the merchants are important, and he can't afford to ignore them, let alone put their backs up. He looks set to do both.'

  'Aye.' Aper shifted. 'Again I agree. Now, boy. What about the British?'

  'The mountain tribes? I told you, I've no quarrel with Paullinus where the military side of things is concerned. Like he said himself, we have to beat them before the province is secure, and the sooner the better.'

  'I don't mean the mountain tribes, lad. Paullinus was right about them, of course he was; they're too dangerous to ignore. I mean the others.'

  'They aren't a factor, surely. Even the Brigantes –'

  'The Brigantes are federated. They're not part of the province. I'm talking about the tribes inside our borders, the tame ones.'

  'You mean like the Catuvellauni and the Trinovantes?' Severinus set down his spoon. 'Dad, you said it yourself; they’re tame, they've been settled for years. Even in the Icenian revolt they gave us no trouble.'

  Aper sighed. 'Marcus, if losing an eye taught me one thing it's not to ignore native feelings. If Governor Scapula had paid more heed to that bastard Subidastos's grumblings over his disarmament order –'

  'Titus!' Ursina snapped.

  'I'm sorry, Bear-cub.' Aper leaned over and kissed her cheek. '"Beggar", then.'

  'That's better.'

  'Well, then, if eleven years ago Scapula had paid more attention to that beggar there wouldn't have been a revolt at all, and I'd still have my eye and my career. That's a lesson I won't forget in a hurry, and nor should you.'

  Severinus shook his head. 'The situation's changed since then. We've a firm grip on the province and the tribes know it. They're disarmed and peaceful. They may grumble, but the British are born grumblers.'

  'Maybe so. But then they have something to grumble about, don’t they? We've conquered them, after all.'

  'That's the way the world works. And it's for their own good in the long run.’

  'Certainly. Only it's a question of convincing them of that. And we won't do that by treating them as beaten enemies.'

  'What more can they expect?' Severinus felt his temper begin to slip. 'The citizenship? Colonists' privileges? Paullinus was right about that, at least. As a province Britain's four years younger than I am. You can't move from barbarism to civilisation in sixteen years.'

  'True. But then again we'll never turn the British into good Romans by grinding their noses in the dirt, which is what we're doing. Take the Trinovantes, for example.'

  'For the Mothers' sakes, Dad! Forget the bloody Trinovantes! They haven't–!'

  'Marcus.' Ursina put down the piece of bread she was holding. 'That's enough. Change the subject, please.'

  Aper laid a hand on her arm.

  'No, Bear-cub,' he said. 'This is important. Marcus, listen to me now. You know yourself what Brocomaglos's folk over on the Dun think of us, and why. We took most of their best land for our veterans to set up the Colony, we tax them to pay for buildings they can’t use and don’t want, and when they can't pay the taxes we force them to accept loans from us at a rate of interest that's little short of crippling, paid in coins they don’t have and can’t easily get. Now the emperor's strapped for cash these loans are being called in. When the poor beggars default, which they invariably do, we take more land in forfeit and feelings run even higher. Now can't you see that that's a short-sighted and idiotic policy at best?'

  Severinus shook his head. 'Every province in the empire pays taxes,’ he said. ‘The British are no more hard done by than anyone else. And like I said it's for their ultimate good. In time Britain will be as rich as Gaul and the whole population will benefit, not just a few nobles, the way things were before we came.'

  'Their ultimate good, aye. I agree.' Aper pushed his plate away. 'And yes, the Conquest was the best thing that ever happened to them, whether they appreciate it or not. I'm not stupid, boy. I know you can't build a province out of nothing, and that it has to be paid for. All I'm saying is that if we carry on the way we're going it could lead to trouble.'

  'That's what the army's for. I'm sorry, Dad, but I think you're making too much of this.'

  'I agree,' Ursina said calmly. 'This is a family meal, Titus, not an operations tent. Discussions I don't mind, but at arguments I draw the line.'

  Aper took a deep breath. 'My apologies,' he said quietly. 'Better?'

  Ursina's lips twisted in a half-smile. 'Better. Keep it like that, please. Both of you.'

  Aper turned back to Severinus. 'Marcus, listen to me,' he said. 'In three months' time there won't be an army. When Paullinus launches his campaign he'll take most of it with him.'

  'Paullinus isn't a fool. He won't strip the province bare altogether.'

  'Oh, I'll grant you that. The man knows his business. But with the tribes on edge already it wouldn't take much to push them over, even our Trinovantes, and with three quarters of the province's garrison tied up half a month's march away that's worrying.' He paused. 'You've heard about the Druid?'

  'No.' Severinus had picked up his wine cup. Now he set it down slowly. 'What Druid?'

  'There's a rumour one's been seen in the area. Unconfirmed, but the British all believe it. The news has gone round the Annexe work gangs like wildfire.'

  'Mothers!' Severinus was staring at him. 'Does the governor know?'

  'Aye. He told me himself. You see my point now?'

  Severinus did. Druids were poison. The sect had been suppressed within the province since the Conquest, but its influence beyond the borders was as strong as ever, and capturing its base on Mona was the main objective of Paullinus's spring campaign. If the Druids were trying to stir up the provincial tribes against Rome in the governor's absence then his father
's fears were well-founded.

  'So what’s Paullinus doing about it?' he said.

  Aper's face was expressionless. 'He wants to send Eagles in to search the Dun.'

  'That's insane!' Ursina set down her spoon.

  Aper looked at her. 'Aye. I know.'

  'And you said as much to Paullinus?' Severinus said. The man had to be caught, that was certain, but to send legionaries to search the British settlement without warning was asking for trouble. Still –’

  'I persuaded him to wait, at least. The Dunsmen aren't all hotheads, and they aren't fools, either. I suggested he let me go up there tomorrow and have a word with Brocomaglos myself.'

  'You think he can get them to hand him over?'

  'I hope so. If the rumour's true, and he can set hands on the beggar. Brocomaglos is a reasonable man. And he knows the alternative.'

  'Paullinus can't afford to let a Druid go, whatever the cost.'

  'Of course. But we don't know for certain that he's on the Dun at all. And, lad, I'm afraid you're making the same mistake as Paullinus; you're treating the British as irresponsible children.'

  'Isn't that what they are? Harbouring a Druid's illegal. And, yes, irresponsible, because when he's caught the whole tribe will suffer. If the Dunsmen can't see that for themselves then they must take the consequences.'

  Aper sighed. 'Well, perhaps that's so. Maybe your mother's right, and I'm too soft.'

  Ursina stretched her hand out and without a word touched his wrist.

  Severinus got up and went over to the brazier. The coals were dying now, but the jug of wine was still hot. He carried it over to the table and filled his father's cup.

  'You think Brocomaglos will agree to help?' he said.

  'I hope so, for everyone's sake,' Aper said. 'But I won't know until I ask him. It's not something I look forward to.'

  'Then you'll need company. If only for the ride.'

  Aper raised the cup and sipped.

  'I will, at that,' he said. 'Thank you, Marcus. Company would be welcome.'

  4.

  It was Severinus's first time inside the Dun: Colonists were not welcome in the native settlement, and in any case there was no reason for them to make the effort. It lay two miles to the south-west of the Colony itself, behind a curving screen of earthworks that had formed, with the river, its original defences; not a town, not even a village, but a sprawl of farmsteads linked by tracks that the December rain had already turned to mud. In the sparse fields on either side of the road leading up from the gates half-starved cattle watched with dull eyes. The air was filled with the acrid smell of dung, human and animal, and Severinus tried to breathe in as little of it as possible as he guided Tanet between the potholes that made riding at any more than a gentle walk impossible.