by Geoff Fabron
"Your Majesty," Verus began, "the unrest is generally under control, it was only in Hispania that there was any trouble with the military, elsewhere the laws have been accepted with minor protests. I'm sure that...."
"Enough!" shouted Alexander, who began to pace up and down the room again. "I was warned that trouble would follow by agreeing to these laws. I should have listened to that advice".
"I'm sure that governor Gallus will be able to bring the situation in Hispania under control, your Majesty," persisted Verus, "what happened to your cousin was tragic, but we can't allow one regrettable incident to detract from the best solution to our economic difficulties."
"I'm no longer convinced of that!" snapped Alexander. The Emperor ceased his pacing again and stood before Verus. He took a moment to calm himself before speaking to him.
"You're dismissed as my chief minister!" he said in a matter of fact voice. "I shall be appointing a replacement in due course."
Verus was speechless. He had served as chief minister for over ten years, first to Philip and then to Alexander. He started to protest, but was cut short by an angry wave from the Emperor.
"GO!" Alexander shouted, "before I have the Praetorians throw you out!"
A dejected Verus bowed and walked out.
Alexander gestured for the major-domo to attend upon him.
"Send a messenger to senator Demetrius Exanzenus," Alexander instructed, "tell him that I wish to see him immediately."
Chapter Five
3rd March 1920
Londinium, Britannia
Sextus Capito was not a happy man. It was difficult keeping the finances of the province in order at the best of times let alone when there was widespread rioting. At the end of the previous year he had painstakingly prepared taxation and expenditure plans for the whole of 1920 and for the first month all had gone well. Sextus was now considering taking the plans, cutting them into neat little squares and leaving them in the latrine where they could still be of some use.
His secretary had placed a pile of new reports on the right of his desk. As with everything that Sextus did, his desk was organised. The right side of the desk was for new reports, memorandums, and messages. The left was for filing, messages for other departments and work for other employees of the provincial finance department. The middle of the desk was for items that Sextus was busy dealing with.
Sextus dreaded what additional problems the reports contained for his department. He picked up the first one. Coal production was down by 25% due to industrial unrest and the power stations were complaining that they only had six days supply left. If the unrest did not end soon he would have to try and get coal from the Saxons to keep the power stations going. He wrote down a few figures and comments on the pad next to him, attached a note directing it to one of his accountants with some instructions and discarded the report by starting a new pile on his left. His secretary would collect it and pass it on in due course.
The next report was an estimate of the cost of repairs to government buildings damaged in the demonstrations and riots. Sextus consoled himself that it was not as bad as it could have been, but it was still an unplanned expense. He repeated the exercise of noting down pertinent figures and re-addressing the report so that action would be taken by the appropriate section of his department.
Sextus had nearly finished all the reports when he had a couple of visitors. They were not announced by his secretary as was the usual practise, but knocked on his door and entered without waiting for an answer.
Sextus was annoyed. He hated being interrupted when he was working and signalled his annoyance with a cold glare. The two men glared back and Sextus felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Few people could remain composed when visited by the peregrini.
"Good morning, Sextus Capito," said the man who had entered first. "I am Secundus Mamertinius of Imperial Intelligence and this is my assistant. I hope we aren't disturbing you, but we believe that you can be of service to the Emperor."
The men sat down without being asked. They glanced around, their eyes taking in every aspect of the office, from the portrait of the Emperor on the wall to the small vase of flowers that his secretary had placed on the corner of his desk that morning. Imperial Intelligence was responsible for security both inside and outside the empire, but the peregrini were a law unto themselves. Sextus had heard that some particulary outspoken opponents of the current Imperial policies were being arrested and it was not unknown for people to just 'disappear'.
"I'm always at the service of the Emperor," said Sextus defensively.
"We're glad to hear that," said the second man, speaking for the first time.
"The recent disturbances," continued Mamertinius, "have brought evidence of a serious conspiracy to our notice."
Conspiracy. Everything was a conspiracy to these people thought Sextus bitterly. It was a convenient excuse that allowed them to arrest and hold people without charge, to invade a person's privacy and ruin the career of anyone that they suspected of treason. Or who had annoyed someone of importance. It would not be the first time that the peregrini had abused their position either for their own purposes or for financial gain.
"There have been reports about a lack of co-operation between the officials and auxiliaries of this province and the legions," Mamertinius said, "our investigations have linked these incidents to a subversive organisation whose aim is to undermine the Empire."
"It's no crime to be a Federalist," said Sextus, not sure what they were after, "they're a legally recognised political party."
"We're not talking about the Federalists," said Mamertinius pointedly, "but about a conspiracy that would see this province secede from the Empire, and assist our enemies in attacking us!"
"I've no knowledge of such a conspiracy or of anybody with such sympathies," said Sextus forcefully, which was not quite true. He knew of a number of provincial officials who had remarked that Britannia would be better off without the interference of Constantinople, but as for a conspiracy, that was too much!
"I'm sure that these traitors would take pains to hide their treason from a loyal servant of the Emperor such as yourself," commented the second man in such a way that it sounded like a threat.
"Quite so," said Mamertinius, "and the way that you can help us is with information. Evidence of unusual purchases by auxiliary units, suspicious movements, political gatherings, comments by senior officials about how good it would be if Britannia were to become independent."
"If any of that information comes my way I'll certainly get in touch with you," said Sextus desperate to get them out of his office. To his relief they got up. Sextus rose with them and saw them to the door.
As they were just about leave, Mamertinius turned around and spoke quietly to Sextus.
"You may feel free to drop the occasional word of support. It may just loosen a few traitorous tongues."
"Of course."
Sextus smiled weakly at the two peregrini agents and closed the door behind them. He returned to his desk and sat down. Despite the coolness of his office, Sextus was sweating. He pondered the visit and what it could mean for the future, his future. Crossing the peregrini was not an action guaranteed to keep a person healthy, but to become an informer for them was not something he could stomach. There was something very wrong with a system in which a group like the peregrini could intimidate a senior provincial official.
4th March 1920
Minden, Saxony
The officer finished his presentation, and stood to one side of the maps and charts which covered one wall of the conference room. The largest map showed the region of the Rhine frontier with a number of bold blue arrows from Saxony across the river into the heart of the imperial province of Gaul. The staff officer had put a great deal of work into his plan and hoped that General Godisger would be impressed. Past presentations by other officers had been verbally dissected by Godisger and this officer did not relish the thought of being on the end of a similar, humiliating experi
ence.
Count Paulus Godisger stared at the wall. Throughout the presentation he had sat expressionless at the rear of the room. He did not take notes nor interrupt. Other officers asked a few questions, but these were on technical points only. The full discussion of a plan was only allowed once the presentation was complete. There was silence as everyone waited for Godisger's comments. Nobody was going to either praise or condemn the plan of their fellow staff officer until the Generals views were known. Then they would congratulate the officer on a brilliant plan or join in tearing him to pieces.
The General gave a small smile. The presenter of the plan relaxed slightly.
"How much does Constantinople pay you for proposing plans like these?"
The officers’ face paled. He started to say something but it was incoherent and the General cut him off sharply.
"There is nothing new in this plan" Godisger accused, "why should it succeed?"
The officer regained some of his composure. He was ready for questions like this.
"This time we will be better prepared," he said pointing to the charts to the left of the main map, "our troops are better equipped and have more artillery. The establishment of an army staff guarantees better co-ordination....."
"Nothing is guaranteed on the battlefield!" interrupted Godisger. He rose from his seat and walked to the front of the room. He pointed a finger accusingly at the charts on the wall.
"Having well trained, well equipped and well led troops does not win battles! It merely reduces the chances of defeat," said Godisger. He stared at the other officers seated in front of him, ignoring the presenter of the plan. "and don't forget that despite all our efforts over the last thirty years the Romans are still better trained than us." He saw that he had shocked some of the men before him.
"Don't be idiots! Only a fool underestimates his enemies. The Roman army is a tough, well trained fighting machine, but it can be beaten." He turned to look scornfully at the map behind him and the officer who had presented the plan, "but not with uninspired, reworks of ideas that have failed before."
He turned back to face the rest of his staff officers. He took up the parade ground stance he used when giving a speech, and the rest of the room stirred in their seats in anticipation of what he was about to say.
"Despite what I've said this plan could succeed, but not at a cost we could afford! This plan will mean a war of attrition, and we can't win such a war. The resources of the Empire are many times greater than ours and eventually they'll overwhelm us. To win, we must win quickly which means destroying the Roman armies along the Rhine and in the west before reinforcements can arrive from the east. Then we will be in a position to negotiate a favourable peace treaty."
Godisger paused to let his words sink in. When he continued his voice was angry but slow and controlled. "I will not watch another generation of young men go to their deaths because of incompetent planning!"
The suppressed anger in their leaders’ voice made everyone in the room feel uneasy, but Godisger was not interested in making them feel good. They were all well bred young nobles with a duty to their country and their people. He would make sure that they treated the soldiers under their command like their own sons or he would make sure that they never commanded anything more important than the latrine detail.
He cast him eyes on an officer in the second row. "Tribune Maleric," Godisger addressed him, "we'll hear your presentation next week. I hope that it will show some more imagination than today's one!
7th March 1920
Tarraco, Hispania
Rufius Gallicus and Leo Laetus made their way to the strong point that commanded the road into Tarraco from Dertosa. A full century of auxiliaries with a couple of hundred armed citizens from the city were entrenched between the mountains and the sea. The road was blocked by felled trees and barbed wire. Machine rifle nests covered the approaches with overlapping fields of fire. Deep holes had been dug to hinder armoured vehicles getting too close and the defenders were supported by a team of mortars from the auxiliary cohorts’ heavy weapons century.
Gallicus and Laetus joined the centurion at the forward positions. Other vehicles and troops were just visible up the road. They had been there for two weeks and had not made any attempt to force the road. Up in the hills, a similar situation existed as loyal troops had come into contact with the Tarraco rebels. A few warning shots had been exchanged and the opposing sides had dug in to face each other. Neither side was keen to fight.
"Report, centurion?" demanded Gallicus.
"They've been reinforced in the last day, probably another cohort, possibly some artillery as well. One of the outposts in the hills spotted what looks like a forward artillery observation post being established."
Gallicus turned to Laetus. "They're bringing more of the Legio VII Gemina in. The increased number of aircraft we are seeing means that they have re-deployed the legions air squadrons closer to us as well."
"And does that mean that they are going to attack?" asked Laetus. The last few weeks had taken their toll on Leo Laetus. He was looking tired and his confidence had been replaced by a fear of the consequences of their rebellion. The initial euphoria following the storming of the Governor’s mansion by the auxiliaries and the declaration of an independent city state had been followed by a calmer reflection on the probabilities of the long term survival of Tarraco as a separate entity. The odds were not very good.
"Yes," said Gallicus, "as soon as they're ready." He stared up the road and in his mind’s eye looked beyond to where the legion would be camped. He had exercised with the legions enough in the past twenty years to know what would happen when they attacked. A heavy artillery bombardment followed by probing attacks along the entire front, then an overwhelming assault at one point which would drive through their defences. Once they had broken through, the lines would have to be abandoned before they were taken in the rear and the city would then be open to direct attack.
"What do you think governor Gallus wants to see us about?" asked Laetus. A message had been delivered the previous day under a flag of truce requesting a meeting with the city leadership.
"Probably wants us to surrender before there is any more bloodshed," replied Gallicus. The full city council had discussed the option of surrender well into the night once they had heard about the governor's request. Despite Gallicus and Laetus being prepared to surrender themselves to face trial, the rest of the council had refused to countenance any agreement that excluded a full pardon for all involved.
"You never know," smiled Laetus, regaining some of his natural humour, "perhaps he wants to surrender to us!” He looked at his friend and together they left the safety of the sandbagged position. Gallicus collected a pole with a white sheet attached from a soldier and the two men walked towards the governors troops.
It was still quite cold and there was a breeze coming in off the sea. After they had gone about thirty yards, two men left their positions and walked over to meet them. One of them was a centurion from the legion and he was carrying a standard covered in white strips of cloth. The other was Felix Gallus, the governor of the province of Hispania.
They stopped a few yards apart and the Governor came forward alone to speak to Gallicus and Laetus. They exchanged greetings and then got down to business.
"What do you want governor?" asked Gallicus.
Felix Gallus looked at the two men before him. When he spoke it was with sadness in his voice. "You can't win. I think you know that. I want you to surrender and prevent the bloodshed and destruction that will happen if I order an assault."
"What are your terms?" asked Laetus warming to the conversation. Negotiating was his area of expertise.
"All those directly involved in the death of Basil Diogenates and the declaration of independence must stand trial," said the governor, "but there will be no mass persecution of either the auxiliaries or the citizens who took up arms."
"No deal," said Laetus, "we want a full pardon for all involved, an
d the right to choose our own city governor."
Gallicus remained quiet and let Laetus talk. He knew that his friend would extract the best deal for the city.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," replied the governor, "a trial is required by law, but the extenuating circumstances will count in your favour." The governor continued trying to win them over. "If the reports are correct, Diogenates behaved badly and illegally. This doesn't excuse your behaviour, but it will go a long way towards mitigating any sentence."
"You're offering us nothing," stated Laetus, "come on Gallicus, let's get back to our lines, we've a battle to prepare for." With that they turned and walked away. They had only gone a few yards when the governor called out to them to wait. They turned around as Felix Gallus came over to them, leaving the centurion behind.
"Listen," said the governor quietly, "the Emperor will not allow a full pardon. He wants blood for the death of his cousin. That means you two and the other centurions of the auxiliary cohort. The rest can be pardoned; there is no evidence against them anyway."
Laetus looked at the governor. He could sense there was more.
"Go on," he said, "want can you do?"
The governor looked away from the two men and made as though he was studying the hills.
"You noticed that there is no naval blockade?" said the governor. They nodded. It had surprised them at first, but as they were not expecting any outside help they assumed that the Empire had deemed it an unnecessary expense.
The Governor continued, whilst still surveying the view to the north. "If the people whom the Emperor is keen to prosecute aren't around when the city surrenders, then they can't be brought to trial, can they?"
"You're saying we should run away?" said Gallicus, entering the negotiations for the first time.
"Not so much run away as relocate to a new life."
