Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Thank you, prefect. Maximus, have you had the legion’s casualty list?’

  ‘I’m just waiting for the second, third and fourth cohorts’ reports; they suffered the most scaling the walls. I’ll bring it to you when it’s complete.’

  ‘Has there been a report of an optio going missing just before the attack?’

  Maximus looked surprised. ‘How did you know, sir?’

  ‘A guess. Well?’

  ‘The optio from the sixth century, ninth cohort went missing just before the assault started as the cohort moved into position.’

  ‘Thank you, Maximus.’ Vespasian looked over to Cogidubnus, seated to the right of him next to Valens. ‘How long is it since you’ve seen your cousin Alienus?’

  ‘Verica’s grandson? Why?’

  ‘Because I believe that he was the man masquerading as the optio who got Caratacus through our lines.’

  The Britannic King thought for a few moments. ‘Not since he was a boy, well before he went to Rome, say six or seven years. Why?’

  ‘Could you identify him?’

  ‘I doubt it after all this time; he’d be a man now and I only saw him a few times as a lad.’

  ‘A pity.’ Vespasian looked at the crude map rolled out before him; there was not much detail on it south or west of where they were, just the coastline of the peninsula that narrowed as it ran southwest into the ocean and marked with a couple of rivers. ‘Where do you think they’re headed?’

  The Briton got up and peered at the map in the lamplight. ‘My western scouts who came back in this afternoon reported another hill-fort about here.’ He pointed a dirty-nailed finger at the map slightly north of west of their present position, almost halfway to the sea on the north coast of the peninsula.

  Vespasian noted its whereabouts on the map; most of the markings were in his hand, the cartographic record of the island being sparse to say the least. ‘How large is it?’

  ‘Larger than this one; it’s got three ditches and four ramparts.’

  ‘Is it occupied?’

  ‘According to my men there is a small force holding it but not more than a few hundred; it would seem that most of the warriors were called to muster here.’

  ‘Question the prisoners and find out all that you can about the place.’

  Cogidubnus nodded.

  Vespasian considered the facts for a few moments, running a hand through his thinning hair. ‘We’ll need to take it anyway as we move west, although I can’t imagine that Caratacus will let himself be caught in a siege again. What’s between here and there?’

  ‘Hills and some flat land; there are a few settlements but none are fortified so they’ll probably be abandoned as we approach them.’

  ‘What news from the scouts in the north?’

  ‘They’re not back but if any hostile body was close enough to threaten us they would have sent a message.’

  ‘Have that agent of yours report to me, he may know something about the place.’

  ‘I will, as soon as I can find him.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘I don’t know; he disappeared soon after we brought him down.’

  Vespasian paused, frowning. ‘How long has this agent been working for you?’

  ‘He appeared before me about four months ago, just as you were settling into your winter camp, saying that he was an Atrebas who’d been captured by the Durotriges as a child and had spent ten years as a slave on a farm. He’d managed to escape and came to me to offer his services in return for some land of his own to farm; he said that it would be easy for him to pass unnoticed in and out of any Durotrigan hill-fort as he had no status. I could see the logic of that so I accepted; and, having so nearly caught Caratacus today, I think that I was right to do so.’

  Vespasian nodded before studying the map again. After a few moments he pointed to a small peninsula attached to the southern coast by a thin strip of land, about thirty miles directly south of the hill-fort. ‘This looks like a good sheltered anchorage for the fleet; have your scouts had a look at it?’

  Cogidubnus squinted at where he was pointing. ‘They’re not good judges of nautical affairs, but they said that there are a couple of fishing settlements on the eastern side of the promontory, but there is another well-fortified settlement about six or seven miles inland from it.’

  ‘Then we’ll take that on our way down to the coast having dealt with this next problem.’ Vespasian turned to Valens. ‘Get a message to the fleet and have them rendezvous with us there in ten days’ time with next month’s supplies.’

  ‘He’ll leave at first light.’

  ‘Good. Maximus, we’ll leave the Gallic cohort that led the assault here to garrison the fort; I expect they could do with the time to lick their wounds. Have another cohort escort the prisoners back to our winter camp; the slave-traders can assess their value there. The legion will strike camp before dawn tomorrow and force-march towards this hill-fort; there is a chance that we can get there by dusk. Paetus, you will take your Batavians and ride at the speed of Mercury and get to the western side of that fort without being seen; take one of Cogidubnus’ scouts as a guide. I want you to intercept anyone who tries to leave the place; and I mean anyone, even the ugliest old crone.’ Vespasian stood, leaning on the desk with his hands; his officers also got to their feet. ‘Gentlemen, once again speed is essential. The chances are Caratacus will leave that fort in the morning and head on west; but if he doesn’t, I want him caught like we had him today, although this time we do not allow him to escape. We’ll take these two forts, resupply with the fleet and then continue west along the coast to this estuary here that marks the border between the Durotriges’ and the Dumnoni’s lands.’ He pointed to a large river mouth twenty or so miles from the rendezvous point. ‘This is our objective this season and then we’ll strike north across the peninsula to the northern coast next year to link up with our allies the Dobunni’s land. Any questions?’

  There was a general shaking of heads and positive mumbling.

  ‘Gentlemen, you have your orders; dismiss.’

  The officers saluted and they and Cogidubnus turned and left.

  ‘You didn’t ask them the obvious question,’ Magnus said, sitting in the shadows in the far corner of the tent.

  ‘How do they think that Caratacus and Alienus communicated to effect the rescue?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Vespasian smiled, raising his eyebrows. ‘That’s because I’ve just worked that out. They didn’t need to; Alienus was in the fort already.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Hormus!’

  The slave appeared from the private quarters. ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Fetch us some wine.’

  With a bow, Hormus disappeared.

  Vespasian sat opposite Magnus and told him of Sabinus’ disappearance whilst being led to a fictitious meeting by Alienus and then of Cogidubnus’ agent escaping from the fort just before the attack.

  ‘You’re saying that these two people were the same man?’ Magnus said after digesting the information.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They can’t be; Cogidubnus’ agent had long hair and the tribune Alienus must have had short hair.’

  ‘It’s a wig.’

  ‘Ah, yes; I suppose it could be.’

  ‘Of course it is and that and the dirt smeared over his face prevented me from recognising him. Which means that he’s a double agent. Cogidubnus doesn’t recognise him either because it’s been so long since he saw him and he thinks that he’s his man; he wasn’t surprised when Alienus made a break for it and then personally vouched for him. He doesn’t even know that the treacherous little shit speaks Latin; they spoke together in their own language. No one was suspicious that he managed to escape from a fort filled with armed warriors only a few of whom bothered to try to bring him down with javelins and they all missed, even at such close range, because he then confirmed that Caratacus was inside.’

  ‘But he w
as the one who told you that Caratacus might be there in the first place.’

  ‘I know, which means that Caratacus wanted us here; he used himself as bait to draw us in.’

  ‘Why? What’s he achieved by having four thousand of his warriors either killed or enslaved?’

  ‘I don’t know but there must be a bigger picture in which that sacrifice is justified. A means to an end.’

  Hormus returned with a tray and placed it on the table between them.

  Vespasian waved him away. ‘We’ll serve ourselves; leave us. So once he’d got us here he had to remain, otherwise the tribe would have surrendered in the face of such odds; only his presence would’ve induced them into that sacrifice. But then he had to escape. He knew that there was no way he could get through our lines unless he pretended to be a Roman agent being smuggled out of the camp; to do that he had to get a man to pose as a Roman. Alienus was ideal: he speaks fluent Latin. It was set up and Alienus played the part perfectly: having seemingly made a daring escape, the double agent disappears at the same time as an optio goes missing and then within an hour an optio calling himself Alienus appears with forged orders to escort a spy out of the camp by a secret tunnel that no one in this army knew about.’

  Magnus picked up a clay pitcher and poured them both a cup of wine. ‘But why did he give that name? He could have used any name he liked.’

  ‘That troubles me too; someone that devious wouldn’t have made such an elementary mistake.’ Vespasian took a sip of wine and ruminated as he savoured its taste. ‘He must have wanted me to know that it was him; but why? I shall have to think about that, but in the meantime I’ll keep after him because at the moment he’s my only chance of finding out what happened to Sabinus.’

  Magnus took a healthy gulp of wine. ‘I have to say, it don’t look good for him.’

  Vespasian rubbed his forehead, feeling the exertion of the day catching up with him. ‘Yes, well, I’m not going to believe the worst until it’s proven to me.’ He took another sip and looked across the table at his friend of almost twenty years. ‘But tell me, why are you here?’

  ‘Ah, well. There was a bit of a misunderstanding about the ownership of a burning tenement block on our area; I’ve been moving the Brotherhood’s finances into property. Anyway, once it was resolved, a couple of people ended up not too well, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘Dead, you mean?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, yes. So I thought it best to remove myself from Rome while it was all sorted out.’

  ‘You mean my uncle Gaius is covering your tracks for you?’

  ‘I’ll admit that Senator Pollo is using his influence on my behalf.’

  Vespasian smiled, shaking his head; having witnessed a few times the criminal activity undertaken by the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood, of which Magnus was the patronus, the leader, he decided not to enquire further into the subject. The shady underbelly of Rome was, thankfully, a long way away. ‘So, other than clearing up your mess, my uncle’s well?’

  ‘Ah! He does have a few difficulties of his own, not least his trying to remain publicly uncommitted but privately supporting both sides in the ongoing feud between the Empress Messalina and Claudius’ freedmen.’

  ‘Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus are still trying to remove her?’

  ‘Yes, but Claudius won’t believe a word against her. Despite the fact she’s fucked everyone in Rome with a working penis under the age of seventy they can’t convince the Emperor of her infidelity. Last winter she had a competition with Scylla – know her? The most artful and expensive whore in the city – as to who could satisfy the most men in one whole day and night; and by satisfy they didn’t just mean a quick coupling up against the wall. No, this had to be to the highest standards of the profession and witnessed by crowds of people; every sort of technique had to be employed so that the men were physically – and quite literally – drained. That’s what they meant by satisfied. It was the talk of Rome for months; everybody heard about it but, according to your uncle, when Pallas and Narcissus – but oddly enough, not Callistus, actually – both separately told Claudius about it he dismissed the story as the lascivious imaginings of jealous minds and reminded them that she was the mother of his two children and therefore it was impossible that she would act in such a grossly improper manner. Some people prefer not to see the truth.’

  ‘In Claudius’ case I think it’s more because he’s got such an overinflated opinion of his own abilities that he can’t believe anyone would prefer someone else to him, even though he’s a fool that drools.’

  Magnus considered this for a few moments. ‘I suppose he reckons his saliva-dripping ruttings to be the height of prowess.’

  ‘Yes, and I expect Messalina is intelligent enough not to disabuse him of that notion. Who won, by the way?’

  ‘What? Oh, Messalina by one, with a score of twenty-five in twenty-four hours, each one completely exhausted.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it keeps her occupied and her thoughts away from Flavia and the children.’

  Vespasian had been living in constant fear for his wife and two children, Titus and Domitilla, since Claudius had requested that they live in the palace, ostensibly so that Titus could be educated alongside his own son, Britannicus. However, Vespasian knew it was not the real reason – that was far more sinister. The Emperor had been manoeuvred into making the offer by Messalina’s brother, Corvinus. Having made an enemy of Corvinus almost ten years previously, before his sister had become the Empress, Vespasian and Sabinus had then helped Narcissus, Claudius’ most influential freedman, foil Corvinus’ attempt to hijack the invasion of Britannia for his and his sister’s personal gain. Claudius had not believed Corvinus had been plotting against him and had pardoned him, leaving Vespasian exposed to his continued hatred. In revenge and to demonstrate the power that he held over Vespasian, Corvinus had persuaded Claudius to invite Vespasian’s family to the palace: at any time they chose, Corvinus and Messalina could dispose of Flavia and the children. Claudius had been only too pleased to make the offer, thinking that he was conferring an honour on one of his victorious legates rather than putting him at the mercy of the ambitious and unscrupulous Corvinus and his depraved, power-mad sister.

  ‘I’ve got letters for you, including one from Flavia,’ Magnus said.

  Vespasian grimaced. ‘The only time she writes nowadays is when she needs more money.’

  ‘I did warn you about marrying a woman with expensive tastes. Anyway you must be doing well out of the invasion; that was a lot of captives you got today.’

  ‘Yes, but the slave-traders are constantly lowering the price they pay for them claiming that we’re flooding the market.’ Vespasian raised his eyebrows incredulously.

  ‘Whereas you think that they’re lying and just taking a bigger percentage for themselves?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I would.’

  ‘And they’re probably paying Plautius a cut to make sure that he doesn’t look too closely into their dealings.’

  ‘If they’re sensible; and if he’s sensible he’s taking it. What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet; it’s very difficult to put any pressure on them as they stay so far behind the lines, nice and safe and surrounded by bodyguards.’

  ‘Then draw them out; don’t send the captives back to them, make them come to you to assess them.’

  ‘I thought about that but they’ll just offer less per slave because they’ll claim, with some justification, that their overheads are higher as they have further to transport their stock.’

  Magnus scratched the rough grey stubble on his chin, sucking air through his teeth. ‘I see your point; it would seem you’re stuck with the situation.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll have them – somehow; don’t worry about that.’

  Magnus’ scarred and battered face creased into a grin in the dim lamplight. ‘I’m sure you will; I know it pains you being cheated out of money
almost as much as it pains you to spend it. You must’ve been in agony when you bought Hormus.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I thought so. But back to my news: Caenis told me to tell you that she’s got a very comfortable apartment in the palace next to Flavia and she and Pallas are keeping a close eye on Flavia’s safety. She says that she sees her and the children daily.’

  ‘That’s good to hear; but what a bizarre situation …’

  Vespasian still found it hard to comprehend how Caenis, his lover for almost twenty years, and Flavia, his wife, seemed to have become friends in the four years that he had been away from Rome. Caenis had been the slave of his patron, Antonia; she had freed her in her will. However, as it was illegal for senators to marry freedwomen, Vespasian had been forced to look elsewhere for a mother for his children; Flavia had married him knowing that his mistress was no threat to her position as wife. The rapprochement between the two women had begun in the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination when both their houses had been searched by Narcissus’ agents looking for Sabinus; they had joined forces in a bond of mutual outrage at Vespasian when he had brought his wounded brother home without explanation. It was Caenis who had pieced together what had happened: that Sabinus had secretly taken part in the assassination in vengeance for Caligula’s brutal rape of his wife, Clementina. Both women had realised the imperative of ensuring that the fact never became public knowledge. The secret shared had created a mutual respect that now seemed to have turned into friendship.

  ‘… I dread to think what they talk about.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, it don’t bear contemplation; but the main thing is that she and Pallas are keeping her safe. Flavia still has no idea that both Messalina and Corvinus are a threat to her or the children’s safety and Pallas reckons it’s best to keep it that way.’