Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Where’re our men?’ Vespasian asked.

  ‘I don’t know. They’re still alive, though; they were taken away as we entered the settlement.’

  ‘How did they know to expect us?’

  ‘Again, I don’t know.’

  ‘We’ll just have to hope that Judoc listens to you before he does anything rash.’

  ‘He’s under no obligation to parley now as I didn’t enter the settlement under a branch of truce and I also came with an invader. He would be well within his rights to disembowel me, take out my tongue and eyes and leave me to die.’

  Vespasian winced at the image as voices came from above and someone entered the hut. ‘Well, perhaps this is him; we’ll find out how amenable he is to negotiation.’

  He looked up; a figure walked into view and squatted down by the grille, holding a flaming torch to illuminate the pit.

  Vespasian’s heart jumped as he looked into the triumphant, malicious eyes of Alienus.

  ‘I’m gratified that you look so surprised to see me, legate,’ the spy said with a smile spreading across his face. ‘No doubt you thought that I’d be running back to Caratacus with my copies of Plautius’ orders?’

  ‘It was assumed that was what you would do.’

  ‘Ah, assumptions; dangerous things, wouldn’t you agree, legate, seeing as you’re in your present predicament because of one? Did Plautius really think that he could cancel the orders that I purloined and I wouldn’t realise that he knew I had them – that he must have let me have them?’

  ‘It had crossed my mind.’

  ‘And yet here you are as I knew you would be when I read Plautius’ obvious attempt to lure Caratacus out into the open. I was intrigued to know what he would try to set up if I went back to get more of his misinformation and he didn’t disappoint me; it might even have been construed as clever had he tried it on a lesser mind than mine. Unfortunately for him and you I didn’t waste time taking the rubbish to Caratacus but instead rushed straight here to await your arrival. And you’ve duly obliged me; more than that, you’ve brought my usurping cousin with you. That, I confess, I didn’t expect; it’s almost too delicious to be true.’

  Cogidubnus showed no emotion as he stared steadily at his cousin. ‘Don’t let your enjoyment run away with itself and cloud your already suspect judgement, Alienus; if I were you I would think carefully before deciding how to treat us. Judoc won’t thank you for killing us and bringing down Roman retribution upon him and his people.’

  ‘Judoc!’ Alienus sneered. ‘What does he know? As far as he’s concerned you were sent here to kill him.’

  ‘Is that what you told him?’

  ‘Of course; and your prompt arrival proved me to be correct and he’s got no reason to disbelieve my assertion that he’s not the only leader who’s been targeted. At dawn he’s going to send a message to Arvirargus warning him that assassins in Rome’s pay are on their way to kill him; your comrades’ heads are, as we speak, being removed from their bodies to send as proof of the attempt on Judoc’s life. Arvirargus and Judoc will now fight because they think that they have no alternative if they wish to remain alive; so unless Rome wants a permanent thorn in her southwestern flank, she’ll have to commit a legion to subduing the area.

  ‘How are you going to progress north and west with only three legions whilst at the same time holding the lands that you’ve already gained and keeping those tribes down now that your rapacious tax-farmers have been let loose amongst them? Move yet more troops from the Rhenus and leave Gaul even more open to all those nasty Germans? I think not.’ Alienus stood and assumed a look of innocence. ‘My game, I believe. I shall see you later, gentlemen, once I’ve composed a suitably disconcerting message for Judoc to send to his king concerning Roman assassination attempts. I’ve a little score to settle with the legate before Judoc hands you over to the druids so that Myrddin can decide what to do with you. I don’t know about you but I’ve a curious feeling that Myrddin’s going to get his sacrifice after all.’ He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. ‘But then again, Myrddin always gets what he wants.’

  Vespasian sat hunched against the pit wall and drifted in and out of uneasy sleep during the next few hours of the night whilst Cogidubnus paced back and forth. Their attempts at shifting the logs weighing down the grille had proved fruitless: the guards had laughed at them and had not even bothered to crack their spear shafts down on Vespasian’s exposed fingers as he sat on Cogidubnus’ shoulders.

  The imminent arrival of dawn was heralded by sporadic birdsong and a persistent cockerel close by; a torch flickered overhead and a stale loaf of bread and some meat of unknown provenance were thrown down through the grille.

  ‘What do you think the chances are of a rescue party making it ashore during the night?’ Cogidubnus asked, doing his best with a lump of gristle.

  Vespasian shook his head. ‘They’ve got five currachs plus the launches on each of the biremes but where would they land? Alienus would have left a force watching the harbour, and the last beach that I noticed that was suitable for a landing was at least twenty miles back.’

  Cogidubnus gave up the struggle and spat out a semi-chewed mess. ‘Yes, that’s how I figured it; even if they did that there’s no way they would get here overland before we’re handed over to the druids. And without a local pilot they wouldn’t know where was safe to land further southwest until daybreak. I’m afraid that we have to find our own way out of this. I don’t fancy a meeting with these druids: Myrddin will have heard that it was me who killed his brethren in the Vale of Sullis and I’m sure that he’ll enjoy his revenge.’

  Vespasian did not bother to voice his agreement. ‘Who is Myrddin?’

  Cogidubnus betrayed the first sign of fear that Vespasian had ever seen on his face. ‘He’s the chief druid in Britannia; the man who possesses all the secrets of their power, which he will hand on to his successor along with his name once he has been found.’

  ‘Found?’

  ‘Yes, the druids believe that when they die they are reincarnated in another body, that’s why they don’t fear death; therefore previous Myrddins are always being reborn. It’s the present Myrddin’s duty to identify a previous Myrddin amongst all the new initiates so that he can train him and pass on his lore so that Myrddin is, to all intents and purposes, immortal. The present one is probably here to judge the new initiates.’

  ‘Immortal like a god.’

  ‘Yes, sort of like a god.’

  ‘Do these druids have another god like Sullis?’

  ‘I’ve no idea but they’ll have something to keep them there, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many of them clustered on that rock.’

  Vespasian felt his stomach turn and knew that it was not due to the poor quality of the food. A noise from above diverted his attention.

  ‘I expect that you’re regretting keeping your word and letting me live, legate?’ Alienus mused, looking down from above, holding in a leather-gloved hand an iron, glowing like the dawn sun, soon to rise outside.

  Vespasian struggled against the four men who pinned his shoulders and legs to the wooden table as he had struggled against everything that had happened to him since being forced at spear-point out of the pit. He had fought against the warriors who had eventually managed to tie his hands behind his back; he had kicked out at the men who had secured his legs together with leather thongs. Blood dripped down his forehead from where he had managed to head-butt the first man who had attempted to rip his tunic off – a second man had succeeded with no more than teeth-marks in his hand – and the warrior who had removed his loincloth now had a broken jaw from a double knee-jerk that had left both him and Vespasian sprawling on the floor. But now he had been lifted, writhing and bucking, onto the table and, despite his efforts, he realised that he was now helpless; he ceased to battle and lay, his chest heaving, naked apart from his sandals, looking at Alienus and the red-hot terror in his hand.

  ‘Well, legate, you seem to be even less kee
n to have your flesh burnt than I was,’ Alienus observed, thrusting the iron back into the heart of a mobile brazier. ‘Perhaps it would make it easier for you if you were given some questions to answer, as I had to; then it wouldn’t be just mindless torture for the sake of it. Yes, answering questions will give a sort of validity to the exercise – an air of respectability, if you will – and it’ll give us both a purpose; me to find out what you know and you to withhold the information like a soldier should.’

  Vespasian spat at the spy but missed.

  ‘I wouldn’t try to make me cross if I were you; it might jog my memory about which part of my anatomy you threatened to sear off. Now, where were we? Ah yes, questions. What to ask? The trouble is that there are very few things that I need to know from you.’ He pulled the iron from the fire, its tip now as yellow as the midday sun, and brought it close enough to the outside of Vespasian’s right thigh for it to singe the hairs upon it. ‘I know what I want you to tell me: on the morning that you sailed out of the estuary,’ he leant in closer, ‘what did you have for breakfast?’

  Vespasian looked at his tormentor, wondering if this was some trick, and then a scorching heat raged up his body. The glowing iron seared through the skin and into the muscle of his thigh and he convulsed in unimagined pain.

  ‘Well?’ Alienus roared in his ear. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’ He pulled the iron away from the charred flesh, smoke rising from the burn, and repeated his question in a pleasant, friendly tone: ‘What did you have for breakfast on the morning you sailed?’

  Vespasian hyperventilated as he tried to work out whether he had heard correctly; another repetition of the question convinced him that he had. With a hiss, the pain hit again. ‘Lentils,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.

  Alienus smiled with regret. ‘Lentils? Oh legate, you disappoint me; I would have thought that a man of your rank and dignitas would have held onto such vital information for much longer. I can see that I’m going to have to ask some tougher questions.’

  ‘Spare me the little games, Alienus; burn me if you want but don’t try and pretend that it’s anything other than revenge for the humiliation that you must still feel because I made you talk.’

  ‘You gave me no choice!’ Alienus’ jaw clenched and his mouth set firm and he drew the iron slowly down the inside of Vespasian’s thigh.

  This time Vespasian resisted the pain as his mind raced and he realised that he had unwittingly hit the mark; he squinted up through watering eyes at the spy. ‘It was you who told me where Sabinus was, remember?’

  The iron stopped and Alienus pressed it hard against the soft flesh.

  ‘Does Myrddin know?’ Vespasian roared, converting the scream that welled up within him into words. ‘Does he know that because of you Sabinus was found and released?’

  Alienus thrust his iron back into the fire. ‘And what’s that to do with you?’

  Vespasian took a shuddering breath through his nose as the pain subsided; the stink of his burnt flesh clung to the inside of his nostrils. He closed his eyes. ‘It’s nothing to me. But if Myrddin found out that he lost the chance to sacrifice a legate because you told me where to find him in exchange for your life I can’t imagine that he would be that pleased. And if you kill me to prevent me from telling him, then that’ll be another legate that you’ve deprived his altars of.’

  Alienus’ fist crashed into Vespasian’s jaw, lashing his head to one side.

  Vespasian tasted blood in his mouth; he turned his head back and gave a low, mirthless chuckle. ‘Tricky, isn’t it? Even for a mind like yours.’

  Alienus grabbed the iron and thrust it towards Vespasian’s bleeding mouth. ‘I’ll burn your tongue out and then enjoy the sight of you trying to tell your nasty little tale to Myrddin.’

  ‘I don’t think that you will, Alienus, because you would also have to do the same to Cogidubnus, and Myrddin wouldn’t like that. He knows that Cogidubnus killed the druids in the Vale of Sullis and he will want the King who has defied him in one piece as he will want me in one piece; what use are we as sacrifices if we’re missing bits?’ The glowing tip wavered; there was uncertainty in Alienus’ eyes. ‘You don’t have the authority to do anything to us before Myrddin gets his hands on us and you know it, don’t you?’

  ‘I should kill you now!’

  ‘I know you should but you can’t, you can’t even hurt me too badly. I realised that when you just confined your attentions to my thighs. But I can hurt you before I die and I will; Myrddin will know that you betrayed him and he’ll want his revenge. And as you pointed out, Myrddin always gets what he wants.’

  Alienus’ eyes narrowed as hatred exuded from them; he pressed the glowing iron hard down onto Vespasian’s shoulder and smoke spiralled up from the cauterising flesh.

  Vespasian clenched his teeth and managed to growl, ‘I’d run if I were you. Start looking for a place where you’ll be safe from Myrddin’s wrath because that will be my dying gift to you.’

  Alienus pressed harder; Vespasian rode the pain and forced a hard-eyed smile. ‘Where will you be safe from both Rome and the druids?’

  Alienus threw his iron to the ground and shouted in his own tongue at the men restraining Vespasian before barging his way out of the hut.

  Vespasian was lifted from the table and thrown feet first back down into the pit to land with a spine-jarring thump.

  Cogidubnus rolled him over and began untying his hands as the grille was replaced. ‘You were absolutely right: how did you work that out?’

  ‘When he pretended to be so disappointed with me for telling him so easily what I had for breakfast.’ Vespasian pulled his hands free, spat on them and then placed them gently on the burns on his thigh; he breathed deeply, forcing the pain down. ‘I realised that what I had told him was irrelevant compared to the information that he had given us.’

  Cogidubnus started to work on the leather thong binding his ankles. ‘And you guessed that was something that he wouldn’t have boasted about.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine that he’s never even told anybody that he’d been captured and then escaped.’

  A scream from not far off cut through the air, followed by a second and then scores of voices were raised in cries and shouts.

  ‘It sounds like our friend has just left the settlement,’ Vespasian observed, pulling his feet apart and gritting his teeth at the movement, ‘and I don’t think his hosts were too keen on him leaving so suddenly.’

  Cogidubnus lifted his head and listened for a moment; the noise escalated. ‘That’s not the sound of one man escaping; they’re shouting “fire”. Someone’s torching the settlement.’

  ‘Our men?’

  ‘Who cares?’

  Vespasian felt a surge of hope and the pain in his wounds was pushed aside as the shouting increased and he looked up to see the guards rush off; the first log was in place but the second had only been rolled to the edge of the grille. The tell-tale glow of burning seeped through cracks between the walls and the thatched roof. ‘Now’s our chance; let me get onto your shoulders.’

  Cogidubnus squatted and Vespasian swung a leg around his neck; with a grunt the King strained upright and Vespasian grasped the edge of the grille and pushed up. It shifted slightly; he increased the pressure, ignoring the sharp pain from the burn on the inside of his thigh rubbing against Cogidubnus’ unshaven chin. The grille rose up a couple more inches and the single log across it rolled a hand’s breadth; with another mighty effort Vespasian forced his arms up and the log rolled away, leaving the grille free as the sound of fire-fighting grew more intense. He pushed it aside and scrambled out of the pit; after a quick search of the floor he found the rope and threw one end down. Cogidubnus scaled it quickly and then coiled it and slung it over his shoulder; they moved towards the door and pulled it open a fraction. A handful of warriors hurtled past in the narrow lane outside, all heading in one direction.

  Vespasian closed the door. ‘We need to get out and then find a way to talk t
o Judoc.’

  ‘You can’t go anywhere like that,’ Cogidubnus stated, looking at him.

  Vespasian looked about for his tunic and found it, along with his belt and sword, under the table, ripped beyond use; his cloak, however, was still attached to the two spears that had made up the makeshift stretcher. With his sword he cut two armholes in it and flung it around his shoulders securing it at the neck, tied on his discarded loincloth and then fastened his belt about his waist. ‘This’ll have to do.’ He threw one of the spears to Cogidubnus and then kicked over the brazier against the wall; the glowing charcoal scattered along it causing the animal skins to smoulder. ‘The more distractions the Cornovii have the better in the circumstances, I think.’

  ‘Agreed; pass me that tunic.’

  Vespasian chucked the ruined garment over as the first hide ignited.

  Cogidubnus held the tunic in the flames; as it too caught fire, he pulled the door ajar, and lobbed it, underarm, through the narrow opening and onto the dry thatch of the hut opposite. Fresh air, sucked in through the gap, fed the fire climbing up the skins, filling the hut with smoke. Cogidubnus waited for a few moments for the fumes to thicken and then flung the door wide, releasing them to the outside. ‘Time to go!’