The Fort

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  Brasus raised the falx, gripping again with both hands. The queen stared up at him, still defiant and the fear that anyone must have felt at this time did not show. Again the bruises to her face shocked him, for they made her seem vulnerable – just a very pretty girl rather than some sorceress.

  Suddenly she rolled, reaching for her fallen sword, but Brasus was faster and kicked it away. There was silence now all around the fort. The queen was gripping her left arm, which was surely broken. Her green eyes seemed large and images from his dreams flashed through Brasus’ mind. He lowered the falx, letting go with his left hand, so that it could grasp his knife.

  Shifting her weight the queen tried to get away, the only sign that she was human and fearful that she was showing and Brasus did not think less of her for it. He followed, the falx pointing down, ready to lunge into her chest.

  ‘Death is nothing,’ he said to her softly, almost like a lover. ‘It is only the beginning of the journey.’

  Then Brasus raised the curved dagger to his own throat and sliced hard across it. There was pain, more than he had expected as he started his journey.

  XXX

  Near Dobreta

  The day before the Ides of June

  ‘IT IS A truly extraordinary tale, is it not?’ Hadrian said. ‘So strange that one would scarcely believe it.’

  ‘Sir.’ Ferox’s leg was sore, and he wanted to go looking for a poultice to put on it rather than the oily concoction the medicus had lathered all over the wound. He had taken an arrow in the thigh when he and the two Brigantes had come to the Roman outposts. Shouts – and thoroughly Roman curses – had convinced the picket of archers that they were friendly, but he had had to be carried in through the lines. The sesquiplicarius in charge of the archers had been upset to learn that one of his men had shot a Roman and a centurion by mistake. He was even more horrified when he saw that the wound was a slight one. ‘At that range, sir, it’s a disgrace. Should have got the face or chest at least.’

  Soon he had been brought before Hadrian, who greeted him with delighted surprise and promised to send cavalry galloping to the fort as soon as the army had rested. True to his word, the legatus with some six hundred cavalry had set off before dawn, but Ferox was forbidden from going with them because of his leg and the Brigantes because ‘they deserved a rest’. Late that same day a despatch rider on a foam-covered horse had brought the news that the survivors were safe, with some details. More reports had come on the next day, by which time Ferox was in a bumpy waggon as the main force marched back to the river and fresh supplies. Most of the news was good and arrangements were being made to bring the survivors back as soon as was practical with so many injured.

  Ferox ought to have felt happy, but his instincts told him that something was wrong, and since he had hobbled over to answer the legatus’ summons, his fears had only grown, and were fuelled when he saw Sosius leaving just as he arrived. Not that Hadrian was anything other than kind, for he had been offered wine and food and told to sit. They were in a large tent of the type senior officers used on campaign, and in spite of the heat of the day a fire burned in a brazier. Hadrian had a table and chair, both designed to fold up for ease of carriage, and several other chairs, to one of which he beckoned Ferox. There were writing tablets on the table, including the ones Ferox had brought out of the fort. Hadrian had several of them open in front of him.

  ‘Extraordinary is the only word I can find for it, although at times reading through we must add heroic, or mulishly stubborn which often amounts to the same thing. The late tribune Piso writes with some style in his account and is most generous towards you among others.’ Hadrian pursed his lips. ‘Your own narrative is different, with an old-fashioned Roman simplicity about it, reminiscent of Cato, although unlike him you do name others. Indeed, reading it, one would scarcely know that you were present – at least if the reader is not inclined to infer. You have not quite Caesar’s knack of a vagueness about some of his own deeds which naturally makes each reader add all the heroic details from his imagination.’

  ‘I am no hero, sir,’ Ferox said. ‘I did my bit, but so did plenty of others.’

  ‘Perhaps this reticence is more Spartan than Roman – or does the tribe of your ancestors value modesty? No matter. I have not yet polished my report on what happened after you had slipped away into the night, for words sometimes fall short. Your wife is remarkable, if a little terrifying. Do you know that at the last she went forth to fight a duel with the Dacian leader?’

  Ferox gripped the arms of his chair. ‘They should not have let her.’

  ‘From what I heard, they tried to stop her, but the only men up to the job were limping or otherwise wounded and she does have a forceful personality.’

  ‘She won, I take it.’ Ferox had received word that the queen was alive, if no more.

  ‘Not quite, but she survived, although with a broken arm. At least there is not a scratch on her exquisite body.’ That was an odd expression to use to a woman’s husband, but the legatus showed no awareness of this. After all, Ferox was a mere centurion and his wife only of equestrian rank. A senator could say what he liked about or to such folk. ‘All in all, it is worthy of Homer, although I doubt that I shall quote the blind poet in my report as the army and the emperor does not care for such flamboyance. She lives and her opponent is dead by his own hand, so there is no shame only glory.

  ‘And yet,’ he paused.

  Here it comes, thought Ferox.

  ‘And yet,’ Hadrian repeated, ‘some of what occurred is unfortunate to say the least, and one would wish that it had not occurred. You have been told that Piso is dead, but none of the details.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Your wife killed him.’ Hadrian stared at Ferox. ‘The news does not seem to surprise you?’

  ‘I imagine she had good reason.’

  ‘He tried to rape a freedwoman of yours. She stopped him and he tried to rape her, so she stabbed him to death.’

  ‘The law is on her side, then,’ Ferox said, ‘and none would call that murder.’

  ‘So the garrison thought – what was left of them at least – for the deed was immediately made public and approved. But do not be obtuse. None of this is heroic.

  ‘The tribune came from a once illustrious family – indeed from several illustrious families for the reluctance of the old aristocracy to procreate with their wives has meant many adoptions to preserve each family’s name. His father is a mildly dangerous fool, but the son had never been accused of disloyalty, at least not in public. Ostensibly he was here because the emperor is a kind, forgiving man and wishes old families and senators in general to prosper and win fame under his leadership.

  ‘Piso’s role in the shambles at Sarmizegethusa is ambiguous at best, but no one will ever remember that. Only the story of Longinus will survive, because that is the one the emperor will have everyone tell and that is what good Romans will want to believe. An old soldier who was captured, but took his own life rather than be used as a hostage by a hostile king. No matter if the truth is a little different.’

  ‘It wasn’t suicide then?’

  ‘Do not ask foolish and inappropriate questions, Flavius Ferox, and take thought instead for those dear to you.

  ‘Piso escaped, and if the manner was questionable, everyone approves success. Even by your account he played a brave role in the later days of the siege. Remember this was a young nobleman who had never before served in the army or fought for his life.’

  ‘He did well, sir. Better than I had expected.’

  ‘So that is a good story, which means that we cannot have the dashing young hero stabbed to death as he tried to ravish a respectable – if admittedly unorthodox – lady of decent enough family. While we may have to play down her amazonian exploits in case they make our good citizens nervous for the natural order, I am sure we can talk a lot about her courage and how she inspired her own tribesmen and the other soldiers. Better leave out the flag with the tits as wel
l.’ Hadrian shook his head in mock distaste. ‘Yes, I saw it, you Britons are strange folk.

  ‘Now where was I? Ah yes. Privately Piso is better dead, for it will prevent his idiot parent from thinking that he can lead a rebellion and start his own dynasty. And no one really knows whether the son would have been as troublesome as his father or have stayed loyal. It was important that the lad get a chance to serve the res publica, better if he showed bravery and best of all if he did not return from his exploits. A captive in the hands of the Dacians might have been embarrassing in the long run, so it was good that he escaped, a slight pity that he was not killed in the attempt, and acceptable that he came to join you. If he had survived, I had in mind sending him to negotiate with the Roxolani.’

  Ferox may have blinked, but did not think so. Hadrian paused and was watching him expectantly. ‘The tribune did not strike me as a diplomatic man,’ Ferox said after a while. ‘Dealing with the clans can be delicate and dangerous.’

  ‘Quite so. I was relying on him to upset them and pay the price. That would have been a brave enough death for him. However, there is no need for such an expedient. He joined you at Piroboridava. To everyone’s delight – at least everyone who matters – he fought bravely and did not survive. No need for scandal, no need at all. When the story is written, Piso will not make it back to your “acropolis”.’ Hadrian shook his head at the word. ‘He will die letting others reach shelter – with piles of his foes slain around him, if you like.’

  ‘It did not happen that way.’

  ‘That is neither here nor there. Sulpicia Lepidina is a shrewd enough woman to keep silent, especially if the emperor is willing to foster her husband’s career. Ambitious man, that, for himself and his sons.’

  As always Ferox feared some undertone suggesting that Hadrian knew the truth about the youngest boy.

  ‘He has three does he not?’

  ‘I believe so, sir.’

  ‘And a daughter too, while his wife is a clarissima femina. Yes, that is a man hoping to rise.’

  ‘He’s a fine soldier, sir.’

  ‘Good, because I have asked that he be sent to my legion as narrow stripe tribune and it is tiresome to have to manage a fool in such a post. As I say, the lady will say nothing, while your wife is eager to have her accession as queen made formal. That means that we can count on her discretion. Of the others who were there – well, who would believe any of them or listen to what they say? Which just leaves you.’

  ‘There are the tribune’s reports, sir?’

  ‘These?’ Hadrian picked up two of the tablets. ‘Yes, of course, I was forgetting. All written and dated after he had died so bravely.’ He stood up and went over to the brazier, before tossing the tablets in. The coals were hot and in a moment the wooden pages began to burn. ‘Ah, there we are, problem solved.’ Hadrian rubbed his hands together as if cleaning them. ‘And so we return to you.

  ‘Crispinus, among others, told me that you have a mulish obsession with telling the truth. In this case that would be unwise and unhelpful. Surely you do not want scandal surrounding your dear wife? Least of all when her hopes are so close to fulfilment and she may truly become queen and perhaps even bequeath the title to one of your children?’

  Ferox said nothing.

  Hadrian sighed. ‘Then let us consider the problem from another angle, as one of my tutors was fond of saying – ugly old goat that he was.

  ‘Now that the record shows that the tribune fell so bravely, from that moment you were once again senior officer at Piroboridava. Yet you abandoned your post, sneaking away through the enemy lines in company with a known deserter and leaving your command to its fate.’

  ‘I was ordered, sir.’

  ‘By a dead man whose written instructions are turning into ashes as we speak.’ The wax on the tablets gave off a strong scent as they burned. ‘And let us cast our eyes back on your record.

  ‘On the day you arrived at Piroboridava you slaughtered several of your own officers and let others desert. Then and before the desertion rate among the Brigantes placed under your charge was appallingly high. In the days that followed there were several attempts on your life, which you survived but speak of very poor discipline. And you did not prevent the murder of a centurion – of my legion, blast your eyes – by one of your men. Then when the time came and your fort was under attack, you let the enemy overrun its walls and the remnant you abandoned was only saved by a miracle – and the prompt actions of a worthy legatus.’ Hadrian gave a studied cough. ‘All in all, it is not a pretty picture, and given your already chequered past, surely demands severe punishment.’

  Hadrian came behind Ferox and took him by the shoulders.

  ‘Hercules’ balls, man, all we want is for you to hold your tongue about a man who is dead and gone. I really doubt that your wife wants people to whisper about the attack, and wonder just how far things went before she managed to kill him. “Oh poor girl,” they will say, “isn’t it terrible”, while they imagine all sorts of lurid things. Spare her that at least.’

  ‘What do you want from me, sir?’

  ‘That’s better. Your part in all this will be allowed to fade away, even more than it does in your own self-effacing version. Piso will gain posthumous glory which will warm the hearts of every senator, especially as they’ll never have to meet the little cuss. Let your wife be praised by the emperor and I will help in every way I can to secure her recognition.

  ‘You will be forgotten, apart from a minor reprimand, and we certainly do not want you going back to Britannia, let alone to the north. She may rule, but for the moment she will rule alone. Instead, I will find some uses for you in the years to come. Serve me well – and the army and emperor of course – and one day you may be allowed to go to her. Refuse to do what I ask now, or fail me and the best you can hope for is dishonourable discharge. The worst is exile to an island for adultery, along with the lady.’

  Ferox must have flinched and Hadrian felt it.

  ‘So, it is true.’ Hadrian could not hide his satisfaction. ‘Crispinus thought so, and a glance at the boy made me wonder.’ He pulled his hands away and walked around so that he could face Ferox. ‘You really have no choice if you want to protect the ones you love. Do you?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Good. And if you continue to serve Rome so well then all you do will help her cause and that of your children – quietly at least. Doubt that there will be much recognition for you, not for a long while at least, but I will do my utmost to help Claudia Enica.’

  ‘I should like to see my wife, sir.’

  ‘Not yet. Perhaps one day, when you have shown that I can rely upon you for your service and absolute discretion, then perhaps I shall arrange for you to see her. But today, you must leave this camp, although if you wish to write a letter I shall ensure that it is delivered. Its contents will be the first test of your discretion.’

  Ferox stood, his leg throbbing. ‘Where am I going?’

  ‘South, at first. Word has arrived that the emperor will get here soon and I do not want you complicating matters.

  ‘Once you are healed I will want you to see whether we can persuade the Roxolani’s main clans to abandon Decebalus.’

  ‘In place of Piso, my lord?’

  Hadrian grinned with all the warmth of a tiger. ‘I believe you do have a gift for diplomacy. And I do not need you to become a dead hero.’

  ‘What about clubbed to death while a fort burned?’ Ferox was sure Sosius had attacked Piso all those months before and did not doubt that it was on the legate’s orders.

  ‘I cannot imagine what you mean, centurion, to ask such a tactless question.’ Hadrian glanced down, then flicked his eyes back to fix on Ferox. ‘If you need to disappear, that could already have been arranged. Be assured, I do not want you dead, but I do want you to be useful.’

  ‘To you, my lord?’

  ‘To Rome, Ferox, and to our princeps – to whom you have sworn an oath. I am merely a servant of
both, doing my best to ensure their success. In order to do that I must use the best tools I can find and ensure that those tools are wielded as well as possible.’

  Ferox could imagine Vindex smirking.

  Hadrian glanced at the brazier where the tablets were still burning. ‘After you have helped with the Roxolani, who knows?’ he went on. ‘I – and other sensible men – will make use of you for the good of the res publica.’

  ‘And how will you serve the res publica, my lord?’

  ‘As best I can. You will soon hear, but there is talk of splitting Pannonia into two provinces, which means that the princeps will soon require a legatus to govern the smaller of the two and command its legion.’

  ‘Congratulations, my lord, if it is not out of place to say so.’ Ferox could sense Hadrian’s delight, and guessed that it was as much at his own cleverness in winning Trajan’s favour as joy at the promotion itself. ‘You saw what others did not and won your battle.’

  ‘We were both right,’ Hadrian replied and almost appeared sincere. ‘But save the congratulations until the final decision is made.’

  ‘From all I hear, my lord, our princeps is shrewd enough to appreciate true talent.’

  Hadrian chuckled. ‘Perhaps it runs in the family. Now, I have more work to do and you need to go.’

  ‘One request, sir. The two Brigantes who came in with me. I’d like to see them before I go.’

  ‘Ah, that was regrettable. I fear their heads are on spearpoints above the camp’s gateway.’

  ‘What?’ Ferox shouted, hands gripping the arms of the chair.

  Hadrian banged his fist onto the table. ‘Mind your manners, centurion! A reliable source told me that you were duped by those men, for they had been sent by Decebalus to murder the emperor, getting close by posing as deserters returned to the fold. Another group of deserters has been arrested and executed in the last few days, for it seems that the king sent several, anticipating the emperor’s arrival.’