Constantine thought about this for a moment. It’s a good deal, and I would advance several rungs up the seniority ladder. Still, he was surprised by the offer. He’d never really been inclined to leave his cohort. We haven’t even been in a major conflict yet. Why does the general want me? Is it to keep an eye on me, or is he trying to take advantage of my Imperial connections?
Gravus waited patiently, apparently studying the opposite wall with great interest. He sighed and gave his head a little shake. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered, “If I were you, I don’t think I’d take it. Kruscus treats his staff like horse dung and the turnover rate is horrendous. He’s been through three tactical officers in the last eight months alone. One poor Iberian lasted only two weeks!” He was now eyeing Constantine.
Constantine voiced the question that had been going around in his head. “What is the general up to? Why does he want me? I’ve got no tactical experience except for that operation in Brittenburg—and that ended with three-quarters of my command dead, injured, or missing. I’m not exactly general’s staff material.”
“Now that is an excellent question, Tribune. If I was a general who had been shown up by a promising younger officer with both family and power connections, and who now happens to be the sole heir to the entire Empire, I think I’d want to keep an eye on this young man and try to mold him as I saw fit.”
Constantine couldn’t keep the alarm from his face. Gravus had only confirmed his fears. “I don’t want to be an imperial feather in that man’s hat. Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“I’m not telling you anything,” Gravus replied. “I’m simply voicing some ideas. I’ll inform the general that you’ve respectfully declined his offer. Peace be with you in the name of the Emperor.” The civilian stood, showing himself to be much taller than Constantine had suspected, overreaching the tribune by at least half a foot. Gravus gave a little bow, and left, passing Alexandros in the hallway.
The captain now carried a folder full of papers, and was carefully wrapping them with wax paper to ensure their survival in the damp and rainy outdoors. “Who was that?” he asked. “And what did he want?”
“He’s attached to the general’s staff and offered me a job.”
“A job? Why?” Alexandros’ brows drew down in confusion.
“I still don’t know.”
“By the way, Constantine, I was wondering if you could help me out on that tiny argument I had with the senator . . .”
Alexandros continued to chatter on, while Constantine mused. Minnicus, what are you up to?
They exited the building, and Constantine literally bumped into a cloaked figure striding hurriedly up the steps. “Excuse me!” Constantine blurted.
The stranger pulled down the hood to reveal her face. “Ah, Senatora Pelia!” Captain Alexandros cried, greeting the rain-soaked politician warmly. “We were just saying how excited we are to have you on this adventure of ours.”
“Although I do thank you for the kind gesture, Captain, I sincerely doubt any soldier has ever welcomed the presence of a politician in any military venture,” she replied coolly. “But fear not, I shall try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”
“I look forward to your presence,” Constantine blurted, then felt his cheeks heat. Now why did I have to go and say such a thing? “Er, I mean, you being around. It is good. Yes, very good for us.” Gah! Constantine wanted to cry out in annoyance.
Alexandros came to the rescue. “Senatora, please accept our utmost apologies for keeping you out here in the rain. Please, get inside before you catch a cold. We shall, of course, be seeing you soon, I hope?”
“Thank you for your concern, Captain. I believe we’ll be seeing each other more than we’ve ever wanted to in the next few months,” she quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Tribune Appius, good day to you also.”
“Good day, Octavia—I mean Senatora,” Constantine stuttered.
As they walked away, Alexandros smacked him on his head. “Are you an absolute dummy? What was that back there? Have they taught you nothing about courting in Rome? Gah! ‘Good day’—back in my day . . .”
Alexandros continued to rant about Constantine’s poor courting technique, but all Constantine could think about was the smile on Octavia’s face as she walked away.
Chapter 3
Octavia
Senatora Octavia Pelia was furious.
“How the blazes did that—that—that creature become leader of this expedition?”
Her staff quailed before her as she bombarded them with her voice. Octavia knew that the small group was not responsible for this disaster, but it felt good to blow off steam at her underlings. Under her wrath, the office that she had commandeered prior to the departure of the expedition seemed tiny, even though it stretched over an entire floor of the forum.
“Senatora! Domina!” cried one of her staff members, young Raestes. “Perhaps there is some way to wrangle some political advantage from this?”
Octavia paused as her brain shifted gear from anger mode to political mode. We’ve got to control our temper; you aren’t normally a hot head! she chastised herself. Although it can be entertaining.
Seeing her anger momentarily halted, her staff chose that moment to bolt.
“Raestes, please remain.” She held up a hand, her calm voice at odds with the anger of moments before. “I want you to send a message back to Senator Ignatios back in Rome, asking him to clarify the decision to place our esteemed General Minnicus in command. And use my government code to ensure it has the highest priority on the wires.” Uncapping a fountain pen, she hastily scrawled a message on a scrap of paper and handed it to the young orderly. Holding the missive like a potentially volatile explosive, the man raced out.
Sighing, the politician considered Raestes’ words. Perhaps there is some advantage to having Minnicus out here. The man had barely survived the last official inquiry demanded by the governor of Brittenburg after he had succeeded in botching the rescue operation for the city. It was only with great luck that the cohorts under Tribune Appius’ command had managed to kill the ringleader of the rebellion, the so-called Warrior Chieftess Amalia, in a spectacular battle on the western ramparts. It was also with great luck (thanks be to the gods!) that the massive explosion that ripped part of the wall away and flooded the city hadn’t flattened the tribune and remaining heir to the Empire. We couldn’t afford to lose both of them now, could we?
The emperor had agreed with the governor, but the fact that Minnicus had not been “forcibly retired” spoke to the strength of his allies in the Senate. The fact that he was here now meant that someone in the Senate had a great deal of support. Or simply has the right proof to blackmail the right people at the Central Principia in Rome. Someone with a lot of control pushed Minnicus to the top of the list.
Octavia rested her eyes for a moment, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with her. She let her mind drift.
She was back among the smooth columns of the Senate house in Rome. The grand building had been expanded many times from its small beginnings. She walked beside the stooped form of Senator Tufero Ignatios from Athens. The old man had served his Empire and his province for over fifty years. Her sprightly step contrasted with his shuffling feet as they left the final meeting of the war committee. The senator had been an old friend of her father’s, and was something of a mentor to young Octavia.
Am I truly the right choice for this job?
“You know,” he was saying in that crinkly old voice that still commanded attention and respect, “maybe getting you out of here will be a good thing for you.”
Annoyed, Octavia looked at the elderly man with brows lifted high in concern. He waved the look away with his cane, the stick moving like some oddly straight extension of his limb.
“Don’t yo
u give me that look, young Pelia.” Octavia remembered the warmth of her blush at those words, uttered by the man who treated her like his own granddaughter. “I know they’ve been giving you grief. You’re the first female senator in the Empire’s history that wasn’t merely a temporary figurehead. They hate you because you are demonstrating talent at politics. And you’re also young. And beautiful, if I do say so.”
Octavia’s cheeks burned, and she knew her pale northern complexion flamed with a blush. Ignatios smiled at her, the laugh lines and crow’s-feet on his face settling into patterns carved by many years of smiles and tears.
He paused at a hallway intersection and faced her. “They fear change. You are change, Minerva incarnate in front of them, and they refuse to accept it. They will fight, with words, maybe even weapons, should they truly perceive the danger they are in. And although you may not know it yet, the system they represent is in great danger.” His words came as barely more than a whisper now, but they were delivered with feeling.
“So going with the northern expedition will be good for me?” Octavia asked.
Nodding solemnly, Ignatios replied, “Absolutely. You’ve not only got the background with these people, you also are in desperate need of some ‘foreign field service.’ You’re great with the interior matters, but you’ve got to get some more external experiences under your belt. Being the war committee’s watchdog on this expedition will be excellent.” He gave her a wink. “Perhaps you’ll even be able to make a connection with Emperor Hadrian’s son. He’s a tribune in the XIII Germania. I’m still amazed good ol’ Hadrian didn’t give him a general’s position right off the bat. Or at least a legateship.”
Ignatios smiled at her blank look. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re on the war committee, for Juno’s sake, and you’ve got to learn these things. Book knowledge about the Nortlanders won’t help you understand our own army. A legateship is a hybrid position—half military and half civilian. Less risky than being a tribune, and more rapid advancement to boot. Guess His Highness didn’t want to let the boy have an easy time of things.” His voice was hoarse now, the dry, summery air lacking moisture.
Octavia understood. Make the connection, build it, keep it strong. It could make a difference later. Of course, becoming friends with the heir to the throne does have its benefits, eventually.
She gave a deep curtsey to the elder statesman. Smiling, he bade her rise and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered to him. Her hazel eyes met his brown ones.
He looked surprised, his white eyebrows rising slightly. “It was the right thing to do.”
Senator Ignatios bade farewell and shuffled off toward his offices. A young servant, waiting a respectful distance away, moved to join him, offering his arm. The man still refuses to get one of those motorized chairs. Claims it would ruin his cane skills.
She turned toward her own offices.
Not half a hallway later, Senator Amirus Cralus stopped her. He was one of the main opponents of Senator Ignatios and his policies on the war committee. He had also been the opposing candidate for expedition observer. He sneered at her as he stood in the hallway, like Goliath facing down David. “I hope your expedition goes smoothly, Senatora.” His voice was full of sarcasm. “Of course, you’re so very experienced in this field, so we expect full reports every day.”
Octavia thought of several very rude things to say, but kept her anger in check. Cralus was pressing her buttons.
The large man stood before her, his toga bulging in several places as it struggled to contain his rotund body. His deeply tanned skin and black, slicked-back hair revealed his eastern heritage. Cralus was a fabulously wealthy man whose family had immigrated to the Empire centuries ago from out east somewhere. Their fortunes made, they turned from building wealth to building power. Amirus was the latest in a series of Cralus senators, each one gaining new support and recruits in a bid for the Senate leadership. Or, alternatively, the Laurel Crown, Octavia thought bitterly.
“Before I let you go, one more question: How will you bring all your beauty products with you to Nortland? I hear they only let you take along one trunk.” His mocking voice turned thoughtful. “Maybe you are our real secret weapon. Those barbarians will think you’re one of their Valkyries come to life!”
Octavia’s hands clenched with the fury building inside her. “Well then, it’s a good thing I pack light,” she spat. “Of course, all the makeup in the world wouldn’t be able to fix your complexion, my esteemed comrade.” Head held high, she pushed past the obnoxious man and strode quickly toward the safety of her offices. Several servants and other senators in the hallway snickered at her comment, and at Cralus.
“You’ll regret that, Senatora,” Cralus called after her as she turned the corner. She had to force herself not to run. “Just you wait. You’ll regret having ever insulted me. You’ll regret it!”
Octavia opened her eyes. She was back in her office, thousands of miles away from Rome and many degrees colder. She’d replayed her last conversation with Ignatios and Cralus over and over again since leaving Rome, sensing something out of the ordinary, even for the high standards of Roman political maneuvering.
Could that be connected to this? Surely Ignatios would have blocked Minnicus’s appointment as expedition leader. A thought struck her, and she pulled out a key and unlocked a desk drawer. Taking out a dull brown accordion folder, she cut the red tape wrapping it with her letter opener and fanned the folder open. From one of the file pockets she pulled out several sheets of paper.
The first listed the assets of the 123rd Expeditionary Force in Operation “Northern Gale.” She briefly perused it, noting with interest the similarity between the names of the commanding officers and some of her fellow senators. And they say the selection is impartial, she scoffed. If we had succumbed to that type of political idiocy like in the days of the Republic, I doubt we’d still be around!
Her finger traced the four legions deployed on this expedition, stopping on the XIII Germania. It was the youngest and greenest of the legions present, while also being the strongest in manpower. Yet it had also seen action most recently, and had not had time to dull from garrison and border patrol duties.
Her finger tapped at the small addendum listing special abilities, talents, and tactical skills possessed by the different components. Octavia had heard about some of the fantastic new battlefield strategies that were being experimented with in the Thirteenth, but she knew little else. No officer from the unit had been available to brief the Senate, so she was mostly in the dark. Octavia hated being in the dark. I’ll have to corner that young Tribune Appius and wring him until he spills all his secrets, perhaps over dinner and some wine? she thought whimsically. He was so handsome, and a gentleman too!
Motion in the outer office drew her eye. She hastily shoved the papers back into the file, pulled out a small roll of the red tape, and wrapped the file shut again, before tucking it back into her desk drawer and locking it tight.
A gentle tapping came at the door.
“Enter!”
Raestes entered the room. “When I got to the telegraph station, this message was waiting for you.” He handed over a tightly folded piece of paper. “I also sent off your telegram requesting further clarification on the appointment of Minnicus.” He gave a slight bow, and moved to withdraw.
Octavia had already opened the telegram, the seal making a satisfying rip as it fell apart under impatient fingers. “Sit, sit,” she murmured as her eyes darted over the short message.
Raestes shifted uncomfortably, following ages-old rigid protocol in the august presence of a Roman senator.
Octavia read the message twice, her heart dropping as she took in the words. Eyes misting with tears, she looked up at the messenger. “Senator Ignatios is dead. Two days ago. Senator Cralus was just appointed committee c
hairperson in a nearly unanimous vote.” Those other senators are craven lizards without someone strong to lead them. Cralus? No wonder Minnicus got approved so rapidly. I bet they were tripping over each other to support his candidate. It was all coming together now.
She studied Raestes. Could he be trusted? He had only been with her staff for about two months. No, not yet. Mustering herself, Octavia stood and turned. She would not allow her underling to see her cry. No one had seen her cry since her father had died. “You may leave.”
Raestes bowed again and left.
Adjusting her long tunic and senatorial sash, Octavia poured herself a glass of wine and sat again, her mind feverishly working at this new problem. Cralus was probably moving fast, by ignoring the long-held Senate proscription on appointing officers within the “mourning week” after a member’s death. It makes sense he’d want to put his crony in charge of this expedition. But is it simply for the glory? Or is there something deeper?
Eyebrows furrowing, she tugged at a lock of her curly hair, fingers braiding and unbraiding as she thought. The strands twisted through her long fingers, delicate and narrow. It was a habit she’d had since she was a small child. The callousness of the situation appalled her.
And to think, I left Rome to get away from the politics!
Several days later, those problems had been subsumed beneath a series of other, more urgent issues. Like when she was going to be able to keep food down.
The salt spray from the Mare Balticum misted over the tubby transport vessel Tiber as the ship forged through moderate swells. With each dip and jolt, her stomach fought to empty itself for the umpteenth time.
Copper Centurion (The Steam Empire Chronicles) Page 3
