by James Mace
“Let me find what I seek,” he said to whatever force in the universe may have been listening, “and then consign me to oblivion.”
Chapter VII: Somewhere Far Beyond
Fortress of the Twentieth Legion, Cologne, Germania
August, 41 A.D.
***
Metellus had been required to return to the fortress after his month of leave, but Artorius had no such orders. He would make certain to pack up as much of his household as reasonable, though he knew his return to the legions would be temporary, a few years perhaps, and then he intended to return to Ostia. He also rightly suspected that his reassignment had been at least partially influenced by the rumblings coming from Britannia.
Tribune Cursor’s selection as commander of all cavalry forces in both Gaul and Germania only added to the speculation. He would finish out his term as tribune of the plebs, which would end at the start of the new year, and join his regiments the following spring. He and Adela had been kind enough to host a dinner for Artorius and Diana before their departure for the Rhine. It was strange in a way for Artorius, returning to the house he grew up in, only now it was owned by his friend rather than his family. And while he knew his way around, it did not feel like his childhood home anymore.
“How is Adela handling your return to active service?” Artorius asked when the two men were alone in Cursor’s study after dinner.
“She understands,” he replied. “She held back her tears, only saying that she was glad I found something I could fight for again. To be honest, that is only partially true. I hope I have found that which I seek, but I will not know for certain until well after we have launched the invasion and landed across the channel.”
“And what exactly is it that you seek?”
“A chance to build, rather than destroy,” Cursor explained. “Not to sound overly idealistic, but I want to leave the world, or at least part of it, a better place than I found it. Britannia, I think, will give me that chance.”
“And is Adela accompanying you to the Rhine?” Artorius asked.
“She is, for she understands my intent. Between us, old friend, I do not think I shall be coming back from Britannia. We’ve already arranged to sell the house and the vineyards, and I foresee a new life for us across the water. Of course, all of this is dependent on the success of our mission and my not getting killed in the process.”
He let out a dark chuckle at the last assessment. It was a cold reality, though; even if the invasion went as planned and the tribal kingdoms were quickly subdued, there would still be Roman soldiers paying the ultimate price in blood. Artorius took a deep pull off his wine and wondered silently if he would be returning from Britannia. His conversation with Cursor confirmed his suspicions that the emperor intended to conquer the province. It all made sense in the end. Claudius needed to secure his military credentials, as this would maintain his popularity with the people, along with strengthening his own personal security. And demonstrating that Rome stood by her allies also gave Claudius enormous political influence, regardless of the circumstance that required said allies to become subjects of the empire.
“Claudius is determined to make his name in Britannia,” Artorius observed. “And we will be the ones who make it for him.”
“Welcome home, brother!” Cartimandua said, extending her arms and embracing Alaric. “Forgive me for missing you, but I had pressing business away south. Had I known you’d come back to us, I would have delayed a day in order to be here to greet you.”
Though it had been two months since his return, this was the first time he had seen the queen. The years had only added to her beauty, enhancing her womanly features. She was tall for a woman, almost able to look him in the eye. Her light brunette hair was braided on both sides, which were pulled together in the back. She wore a thin, gold band around her head as a type of crown. Her long gown was lightweight and colored in earthen tones. The queen of the Brigantes resonated both regality and strength.
“My queen,” Alaric said, bowing deeply.
“Please,” Cartimandua said, taking him by the hand which brought a shiver up his spine. “When it is just us, we can dispense with the formalities. Walk with me; I want to hear all about your travels.”
“Of course,” he replied, “but first I want to know about my mother.”
Though the day was warm, if a bit overcast, Cartimandua shuddered slightly, as if chilled. She said nothing for a few moments as they strolled amongst the hedgerows that ran along the grounds behind her great hall.
“Forgive me,” she said once again. “I should have first offered my condolences to you. You know she was very dear to me as well.”
“What happened?” Alaric persisted. “She was not an old woman, and her health had never been poor.”
“Dear brother, you’ve been away for many years,” Cartimandua said. “Your mother aged considerably over the last few years. She and my father were very close. Although they never married, nor made public any sort of relationship, it was plain to me that there was much more between them than just close friends and companions. When he passed on seven years ago, she took it very hard.”
“I am sorry,” Alaric replied. “Breogan practically raised me, and was the only father figure I ever knew.”
“His death was unexpected,” Cartimandua remarked. “He fell ill during a really bad winter, yet he refused to be bedridden or cease in his work. He weakened himself to the point that by the time he did rest and recover, it was already too late. Milla insisted on not leaving my side during the time of mourning, though I think this was as much for her own sake as mine.”
“And I was long since gone,” Alaric added, suddenly struck by feelings of guilt.
“You must not blame yourself,” the queen consoled him. “You had to find your own way in the world, and your mother never faulted you for it. She did always hope that she would see you again, but as the years passed, she assumed something tragic had befallen you. Before she left us, she told me ‘I go to be with my husband and son’.”
“She assumed your father was now with your mother,” Alaric surmised, quickly wiping a tear from his eye. “And naturally she wished to be with my father again. A tragedy that she thought I had also passed into the afterlife.”
They walked in silence for some time. The rolling terrain extended as far as he could see from the top of the hill. Just to the east was the port village, where both merchants and fishermen plied their wares.
“I understand you spent time in the Far East,” Cartimandua said at last.
“Somewhere far beyond,” Alaric replied. “I was at sea for a number of years, never fully appreciating just how large the world really is. The lands of the east are dry, hot, and arid; far different from the temperate climate here. Not nearly as green, though beautiful in its own way. The people are fascinating, albeit they share one common aspect with us, in that they are constantly fighting each other. One sad lesson I learned is that the world is a brutal place no matter where you go.”
“Yes, the Judeans are quite the peculiar race,” Cartimandua concurred. When she noted Alaric’s perplexed look, she explained, “I have met a couple in my time. The occasional wealthy merchant has landed on our shores, although this is extremely rare. Traveling this far from their homeland is very costly, not to mention fraught with risk, as I’m certain you are far more aware than I. And the resources we do have, namely precious metals, can be found in other parts of the world readily enough, so there is no real need for them to ever journey this far except out of personal curiosity.”
“You mention the world, yet you never say Rome,” Alaric observed.
“Anymore they are practically one and the same,” the queen sighed. “Tell me, in all of your travels, did you ever spend time in any place not annexed by the Caesars?”
“Only here, when I returned home,” Alaric said. “And I wonder how long that will last. Mother was terrified that the legions would one day march upon our shores.”
�
��She was correct in her assumption,” Cartimandua replied. “The reason for my journey south was to meet with both members of the Catuvellauni, as well as a few nobles of the Atrebates who have chosen exile over being subjects of Caratacus. King Verica has gone to Rome with the intent of one day returning with a host of legionaries who will restore him to his throne; at least that’s what the exiled nobles said.”
“I thought you were not opposed to the idea of Romans coming to Brigante?” Alaric asked as they reached a small stone wall that overlooked a short cliff. Below them stretched vast farm fields, worked by both Brigantes as well as slaves.
“I don’t,” the queen replied. “But you understand I have to be very cautious. We know little about this new emperor, other than he is the uncle of the previous madman who sat on the imperial throne. If he elects to support Verica, will he make a farcical show of force, like Gaius Caligula did? Or perhaps launch an expedition with too few men, like Julius Caesar a hundred years ago? Either of these is possible, just as much as he will send a massive army, large enough to conquer the entire isle. If I side with the Romans prematurely, any coalition that is raised against them can be turned on us. And if I side against the invaders, and they do in fact come to conquer, then they will take our lands and annihilate my people. Whether the pride of our warriors can accept it or not, a Roman Army unleashed is an unstoppable killing machine.”
“So I have seen,” Alaric said darkly. “I spent time in Rome itself and have seen many wondrous things within the various corners of their empire. Yet what you cannot see on the polished marble surface is that their civilization was founded on the subjugation and destruction of other races.”
“All nations are built in such a way, not just Rome,” Cartimandua asserted. “When you left on that merchant ship all those years ago, I thought that perhaps you would make your home in some exotic land.”
“Home,” the young man remarked, shaking his head. “I’ve never known such a place, not even here. Although I suppose this is as close to a home as I will ever have. Something told me I had to come back, though in all honesty, I have not known what to do with myself.”
“Landon tells me you acquired some skill with a sword,” the queen observed.
“A little,” he shrugged.
“He also says you acquitted yourself well in battle during your travels.” Cartimandua’s words caused Alaric to stop abruptly. She gently pressed him further. “It was for the Romans that you fought, wasn’t it?”
“Believe me, I did not fight alongside the Romans willingly. I had no choice if I wanted to live.” He went on to tell the queen about his time aboard a Roman warship that was bound for Judea, and of their battle against a renegade pirate ship. He explained how he’d used his share of the prize money from the captured vessel to live on while in the east.
“I am vexed as to what I should do over the next couple years, should the legions march on Britannia.” Alaric raised an eyebrow at this, and Cartimandua was quick to explain. “Like I said, my business in the south had to do with the Atrebates. You may have passed through their lands, or at least what used to be theirs, during your journey.”
“I did. And I saw the burned out remains of what I guess was once their king’s great hall.”
“Verica was a friend and valuable trading partner,” the queen stated. “His former nobles, now living in seclusion, told me the Atrebates were Roman allies. If true, and if their king has left for Rome to petition them to restore him to power, you can bet they will come. Claudius has not been emperor long, and honor will demand he stand by his allies.”
“You have not said what you will do if the Romans come to Britannia.”
“Trust me, brother, when I say it’s not a question of if, but rather when,” Cartimandua replied. “Unlike the Atrebates, we are a very large kingdom. Our lands cover much of middle Britannia, up to Caledonia1. We even still possess territories on the east coast of Hibernia2. And Caratacus, for whatever he has done to the Atrebates, is highly respected amongst all the tribes, and is also a close personal friend of my husband.”
“Ah, yes, your husband.” Alaric cursed himself for being unable to hide his gloomy feelings at the mentioning of Venutius.
“My dear Alaric,” Cartimandua consoled, sensing the hurt tone in his voice, “I have always known your feelings for me. Ever since the day you and your mother came to our shores, I have always viewed you as a younger sibling. As we grew older, I knew your feelings were different than mine for you.”
“I also knew that it could never be,” he confessed, his face turning red and eyes downcast. “You were the daughter of a king, and I nothing more than a refugee from a defeated Germanic tribe.”
“You are right; it can never be between us. But know that I do cherish your love for me, for it is something that is otherwise unknown in my life. Make no mistake about my husband. Ours is a political alliance, meant to keep the various factions within the kingdom united. The issue with us being so large is that our diversity is both strength and a weakness. There has never been love between us, and Venutius has not shared my bed in years. I also know that he will be easily swayed by Caratacus, as well as those tribal leaders who would oppose the Romans.”
“And what of you?” Alaric asked once more. “You have not answered my question. You told me once, many years ago, that you would welcome their presence in our lands. Do you still feel that way, now that they may be on our doorstep?”
“Britannia is not a unified nation,” Cartimandua continued to explain. “I suspect that even in a thousand years the various tribal kingdoms will still be in constant conflict with each other. Were they united, perhaps the Romans would think twice about launching an invasion. As it is, the Atrebates going to Rome will give their emperor all the justification he needs to invade. And with the kingdoms of this isle divided, the legions will simply roll right over each one in turn. Those who align themselves with Rome will be welcomed as friends and assimilated into the empire. Those who oppose them will face annihilation. Your people learned the harshest of lessons; that the Roman Army unleashed is virtually unstoppable. I will not allow my people to share their fate.”
It pained Alaric to hear Cartimandua talk so. Was it cowardice or prudence that guided her? The truth was, most people in the world wanted nothing more than to be left to lead their lives in peace. Whether their taxes went to a local king or a foreign emperor, they cared little. He stated this to the queen.
“That may be true,” she concurred. “However, the average peasant is also not a free-thinker. They are easily swayed by strong leaders. Doubtless a number of our nobles will wish to join Caratacus and his brother, Togodumnus, who propose to lead the resistance. I intend to keep Brigantes neutral for the time being, and I will need every friend I can muster if I am to keep my nobles in line. I also will need eyes everywhere, and I understand you need work.”
The abrupt change of topic startled Alaric, and he stumbled upon his words as he tried to reply. “Y…yes. I mean, I have done the occasional carpentry task, as well as helping those who may need extra labor in their fields, but nothing permanent.”
“A common laborer is no place for my dear brother,” Cartimandua asserted as she turned to face him. “I’m offering you a place amongst my personal guard. If you still love me, you will accept.”
It put him on the spot, though both knew there was only one answer he could possibly give.
“Honored, my queen.” Alaric took her hand and kissed the back of it before bowing.
“Can you ride a horse?” the queen asked.
“Not very well,” Alaric admitted.
“You will learn. You have some skill with a blade, and any other proficiency can be learned. What is not learned is loyalty, and that is the quality I need most. My guard is not just to protect my person, but to be my eyes and ears throughout the kingdom. Report to Landon, he will see to your equipment and start your training. I am glad to have you with me, Alaric. Perhaps your return was the gods’
way of sending me a protector.”
“Perhaps,” he replied with a smile.
The trek to Cologne had taken more than a month, with Artorius and Diana traveling first by ship to Massilia in southern Gaul, then by road north through Lugdunum. Upon reaching a merchant port along the River Rhine, just north of the Alpes, Artorius had arranged for their baggage, along with most of their servants, to be transported by river barge all the way up to Cologne. He and Diana, along with her maidservant, his manservant, Nathaniel, and their freedman, Proximo, would finish the journey by road. Artorius, Diana, and Proximo would ride their horses, the other servants confined to walking. Proximo was now in his early sixties, and ever since being given his freedom by Diana, he’d saved his coin and purchased himself a fine Arabian charger. Though he still worked just as vigilantly as he had before, given his age, Artorius and Diana were glad he was able to ride. They continued through Gaul and into Germania, stopping each night at roadside inns or whatever towns and cities their path took them through.
At last, after weeks of riding and what must have been a thousand miles on the road, the enormous fortress came into view. They rode out of a grove of trees along the road that served as the main artery between the northern empire and Italia. They had essentially retraced their steps from when they had left the Rhine on their journey to Judea. The ever-growing city of Cologne had sprung up in the fortress’ wake decades earlier and ran right up to the edge of the River Rhine.
“It would not surprise me if the city spans both sides of the river in years to come,” Diana said with a grin.
“If that happens, we may actually bring civilization to the barbarians,” her husband noted, referring to the untamed lands just across the river, populated by warlike tribes who shared an extremely violent history with Rome.
