A freedman stepped forward and started reading the charge that had been levelled at him by the now deceased legatus augusti, Capito, and which had seen him transported to Rome to receive the justice of an emperor who, by the time of his arrival in Rome, had already taken his own life in the face of overwhelming public and senatorial hostility, to be replaced by the man sitting before him.
‘The accused, Gaius Julius Civilis, Emperor! The accused is charged by Legatus Augusti Gaius Fonteius Capito, commander of the imperial army of Germania Inferior, that in the month of Maius of this year he did collude with the Governor of Gallia Lugdenensis, Gaius Julius Vindex, to overthrow the imperial family and seek the restoration of a second Roman republic! Before his own unfortunate demise, Legatus Augusti Fonteius requested that the emperor should administer the death sentence to the traitor Civilis, and was pleased to report that the prisoner’s brother, being peregrinus and therefore not having the privilege of demanding an imperial hearing, had already been executed for the same crime!’
Galba looked at Kivilaz for a moment before speaking, and when he did the German noted that his voice quavered slightly, with a hint of his advanced age that was impossible to miss. The emperor looked all of his seventy years of age, perhaps bowed slightly under the weight of his new responsibilities, his eyes dark with fatigue and the skin on his bald head sallower than might have been expected of a man who had recently made the long journey from Hispania. Rome’s new emperor was, as the rumour mongers were already broadcasting far and wide, an old man, cruelly robbed by his years of the vitality for which he had previously been famed just at the moment when both he and Rome had the most need of it. And perhaps, Kivilaz mused, the responsibilities of Galba’s new position were already grinding down upon him with incessant pressure that would have been hard enough for a man still in his prime.
‘Gaius Julius Civilis, you are brought before me charged with treason. How do you answer these charges? Did you indeed conspire with Gaius Julius Vindex against the throne?’
Kivilaz had thought of little else in the period between his trial date being announced and this moment. How best to answer the inevitable question that Galba had no choice but to ask? Were he to answer in the affirmative, that he and Vindex, both men of high birth in their tribes, had indeed conspired against Nero in support of Galba’s claim to the throne, would the old man praise him for his support or take a more old-fashioned view of self-declared treason, as seemed quite likely given the man’s reputation for being a stickler for Roman law?
‘Caesar …’
He was on safe ground in his use of the title, he knew, given that Galba had already allowed himself to be acclaimed in public as Imperator Servius Sulpicius Galba Caesar Augustus, and he paused as if composing himself to answer, although in truth he had never felt calmer in all his life, waiting to see if the emperor would offer any subtle clue as to his likely reactions. If there were any such signals, they were imperceptible to the German, and so he proceeded with his chosen route of argument.
‘Caesar, it is indeed true that I travelled to Vesontio in order to meet with former Governor Vindex. And I did indeed have one such meeting with the man, in the course of which I advised him that I shared his dismay …’ He stressed the word, carefully chosen to position himself on the side of the Roman senators who had censured Nero and brought about his suicide without implying any predisposition towards violent action, and paused fractionally to allow it to hang in the air between them. ‘Indeed I spoke to him of my own utter dismay at the turn of events that had led him to feel constrained to rise up against the throne. My purpose in speaking with the man, I should hasten to add, was to counsel him from a position of some shared ground, given that while I did not share his senatorial rank I am, as was he, the prince of a tribe that has long been the happy and willing partner of the empire. I told him that while I understood his deep unhappiness with the situation in Rome, the mother of the empire we both loved as loyal and willing servants, that I felt his actions were perhaps …’ He paused again, weighing the word before using it. ‘Hasty.’
Hours of thought had gone into the choice of the last word. ‘Intemperate’ would have implied that Vindex’s revolt, avowedly in support of Galba, was poorly motivated and lacking in justification. ‘Treasonous’, while factually correct, would have been open to being construed as opposing Galba’s assumption of the throne. These and half a dozen other words had been considered, weighed and rejected, leaving him with an adjective whose use told Galba that while he believed Vindex’s cause was noble, his decision to revolt militarily had been taken precipitately and without consideration of the realities he faced. After a brief pause he added, as though an afterthought, the counterbalancing point that would imply his loyalty to the man with the power of life and death.
‘Although of course I am forced to note that it was his noble and selfless action in declaring for you, Caesar, that resulted in your accession to the throne, even if he did not live to see that happy result.’
Galba nodded slowly, seeing the path that Kivilaz had cleared for him.
‘I see. And how did you counsel him as to that hastiness?’
The German held his hands out, palms upward, opening his argument to the emperor’s scrutiny.
‘I told him that while I could understand his dismay at the state of affairs that so troubled the empire, and his desire to see a better man take the throne and restore Rome to its full glory, I could not in all conscience condone his taking to the field against Roman legions, which were, of course, bound by their oaths of loyalty. Untroubled by any real knowledge of how matters were deteriorating in Rome itself, they would therefore be forced to offer him battle, a battle he could never win, given that the balance of forces was so much against him, and which could only result in the deaths of thousands of innocent men on both sides. I urged him to meet with Lucius Verginius Rufus, who I knew to be marching south with the best part of three legions, and to make peace with him, a pact between two men of honour to respect the writ of Roman law.’
Galba nodded again.
‘Advice he seems to have taken to heart, even if the German legions ignored the agreement Vindex and Rufus formed between them, and fell on the rebel forces despite their orders to stand down. Clearly Rufus may have been, as you say, an honourable man, but I would be happier today if he had held a stronger grip of his legions’ collars.’
Kivilaz gave a slight nod of agreement, knowing from his visits from Cerialis that Rufus’s legions had not only failed to follow his instructions to allow Vindex’s army to surrender in an orderly manner, but had then tried to persuade their general to accept the imperial purple, and set himself up in opposition to Galba’s rule.
‘But, given that he is clearly a wise man, I have invited him to join me as one of my trusted advisors, and replaced him with a fresh legatus augusti whose control over the legions of Germania Superior will hopefully be tighter.’ Galba smiled tightly at the man before him, and Kivilaz tensed for whatever it was that he was about to say. ‘It is the time for new commanders in Germania, as I have also been required to replace the man who executed your brother and sent you here for trial. Fonteius Capito, as I expect you already know, is dead, murdered by one of his centurions, it seems, after taking liberties with the title “Caesar” in front of his men.’ He watched the German closely for any sign of a reaction. ‘Nothing to say on the subject of his death, Julius Civilis? Do you not take pleasure in the demise of the man who had your brother executed, and who sent you here to stand before an emperor he had every expectation would order you to a similar fate? Not to mention the brutality you endured at the hands of his men. I hear the effects had not entirely worn off when you arrived here several weeks later?’
Kivilaz nodded.
‘It is true, Caesar. His officers went out of their way to make me suffer, and I was still in some pain when I reached my cell in the palace, but the injury was dealt not by Capito but by his centurions, a class of men well known
to be a law unto themselves when they feel the occasion merits their intervention. As a centurion myself I too have, on occasion, ignored the orders of older and wiser men in the pursuit of Rome’s glory, so I can hardly complain when a similar crime is committed against me with honourable intentions. And as for my brother, Caesar, what choice did Fonteius Capito have? An accusation was made, with evidence that could be construed to damn us both, and he believed he had the power to execute one of us. What was he to do, given his men’s zealous desire to see us dead? Would he have been wise to risk their censure and his possible removal from his post by an outraged Nero?’ He shook his head. ‘I have no urge to revenge, Caesar, only to return to my homeland and live quietly.’
Galba frowned.
‘You expect me to believe that you’re willing to dismiss any desire for revenge on the men who beat you, and who drove their general to have your brother killed, illegally given his inherited citizenship, with a statement that amounts to little more than “boys will be boys”?’
He stared intently at Kivilaz, but the German simply opened his arms wide in a gesture of his innocence.
‘It seems to me, Caesar, that when a man places his hand into a wasp’s nest he can expect to be stung a few times. If you choose to pardon my foolishness in ever going to meet Julius Vindex, even if it was with innocent intentions, I shall repay your trust by withdrawing from imperial service, and further by keeping my own counsel for the rest of my life, providing no further provocation to the men of the German legions.’
The emperor nodded magisterially, having apparently heard enough to reassure himself that the man before him represented no threat to the state.
‘I see. Very well, Gaius Julius Civilis, I have reached a judgment in your case.’ The praetorian standing behind Kivilaz reached out a hand and took a firm grip of his toga, although whether this was for the purposes of restraint or support in the event of the emperor’s decision going against him was not clear. ‘I find you guilty, as you state so clearly, only of naivety in travelling to speak with Julius Vindex, naivety which cost your brother his life, even if the execution was not legally correct. I find that your common cause with the misguided senator was both understandable under the circumstances and pursued in the interests of a non-violent solution to the matter, and not intended to further the revolt, as is proven by Vindex’s resulting actions in suing for peace. I find you not guilty of treason, as you clearly counselled him to desist from his plan to meet the German legions in the field, a battle which events later proved to be unwinnable for his auxiliary forces in the face of overwhelming strength. You are therefore freed to leave Rome and to journey back to your home.’ The hand released his garment. ‘However, I am unable to release you from your oath of service to the empire as you request. Rome has continued need of the bravest and the best, as your people have long been known to us, and I will not deprive the empire of your proven martial skills. I have in the last few days released my German bodyguard from their duties, and issued them with orders to march north and join the army of Germania Inferior under their new legatus augusti, Aulus Vitellius, and I have further decided that you will be restored to the rank of prefect and placed in command of these guardsmen in order to assist them with their adjustment to military service. Your lack of self-interest in the matters we have discussed today will provide them with a salutary example of how a soldier should approach life, and it is to be hoped that they will gain from your leadership. You are hereby freed to leave the court, and instructed to return to the palace tomorrow to receive your formal orders.’
The hand tugged at his toga, pulling him away, and with a deep bow he did as he was bidden, backing away until the appropriate distance had been covered and he could turn to walk from the chamber. At the door he turned back for a last look, seeing that the next man in line was already standing before the emperor with another praetorian at his back, one hand on the dagger at his belt in readiness to draw it and strike at the slightest provocation.
‘Well now, Julius Civilis, here you are, not only exonerated but given an elite unit of your own people to command. I’d imagine that if you were to fall asleep on a bed of dung you’d wake up smelling of roses.’
He recognised the man standing before him with a beaming smile, a pair of heavily built men with the look of former soldiers standing behind him and eyeballing anyone who so much as looked at their master.
‘Quintus Petillius Cerialis.’
Cerialis took his hand and clasped it, shaking it vigorously.
‘Well done, Gaius Julius Civilis, very well done indeed! Your performance in front of the emperor was little short of masterly, a delicate circumlocution of several tricky issues to do with the need to admit your visit to that poor doomed fool Vindex, and the fact that his revolt was a bad thing whilst still being necessary and indeed, in the end, positive in terms of its outcome. I’m surprised Galba didn’t appoint you to his diplomatic service, but then once a soldier, always a soldier, eh? How I long for another chance to prove that I’m more than the man who lost half a legion to Boudicca’s screaming blue painted maniacs, and so I wish you all the joy possible with your new command. I wouldn’t wait too long to take it up though, your men are at something of a loss as to what they should do next, when the answer is in truth staring them right in the face and no more complicated than quitting their barracks and riding north. Perhaps as their new prefect, you can make the decision simpler for them to understand. Anyway, enough of that, I’ve sent a messenger to them with news of your acquittal and appointment to command them, and tonight you must stay in my house and enjoy the company of those few men who have chosen to defy convention and remain my friends despite the fact that I’m something of a social pariah. We’ll dine in fine style, and tomorrow I’ll walk you over to the camp of the German Bodyguard to meet your men.’
He grinned at the German’s nonplussed reaction.
‘Mark my words, Civilis! It isn’t every day that a citizen condemned with treason faces the emperor and talks his way out from under the charge while at the same time managing not to offend Caesar, despite Caesar’s rather obvious vulnerability to being offended on the subject of his friend Vindex’s somewhat ill-timed revolt. Let’s face it, you might well have been a cooling corpse by now, instead of which you’ll spend this evening being toasted in the best Falernian red that money can buy! Exhilarating, isn’t it, to dodge death, as we can both attest?! So let’s make the most of it!
‘Oh, and don’t worry about these two …’ He waved a hand at the unsmiling thugs standing behind him. ‘They’re colleagues of mine from that unfortunate day in Britannia who I’ve taken into my familia. I pay them a decent wage and in return they make sure that anyone who thinks it might be clever to abuse a defeated legatus sees the painful error of their ways.’
Later that evening, reclining on a couch and listening to one of Cerialis’s friends recite poetry, Kivilaz reflected that of all the outcomes he’d expected for the day, this was not one he had considered. Catching the German’s wry smile, his neighbour smiled back.
‘Oh, I don’t think the poetry is quite that bad. Although the writer seems to have enjoyed something of a leg fetish, to judge from his frequent references to his young male friend’s finely turned ankles and calves.’
Kivilaz grinned, troubled by the feeling he’d had all the way through dinner that he knew the man, although he knew it was unlikely.
‘Forgive me. My grimace was not intended as literary criticism, but more as a comment on my own day.’
The other man bowed slightly, a respectful tone entering his voice.
‘Ah. Your apparently miraculous escape from the executioner this afternoon. Nothing less than you deserved from where I was sitting. I’m a lawyer by trade, you see, and I listened to your explanation of the circumstances by which you came to be standing before dear old Galba with a significant degree of admiration, given that you were trained for war and not for the courts. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Gaiu
s Plinius Secundus, one of Quintus Petillius Cerialis’s closest friends. I was a soldier for a while, and indeed I ended up commanding the cavalry wing at the Old Camp, quite close to your homeland, but for the last ten years or so I’ve confined myself to practising the law. That and writing books on grammar and rhetoric so unbelievably tedious that not even Nero could take exception to them and have my life prematurely terminated because he disagreed with some conclusion or other, or simply failed to understand it. It wasn’t always that way, of course. I once wrote a book on the use of spears on horseback by mounted soldiers, and a twenty-volume work on the German wars, but for a few years now it’s been safer not to attract the emperor’s attention for any reason whatsoever, and so now I write about such tedious subjects as how a student should go about his studies. We’ll have to hope that Galba’s ascension to the throne has brought with it an end to that terror, and the re-establishment of something more like normality.’
Kivilaz nodded.
‘It was kind of our host to invite me to this party. Three months in a cell can leave a man desperate for company, and yet surprisingly uncertain as to how he might go about finding someone to talk to who’ll understand the reasons why he might be a little unsure of himself.’
Plinius nodded earnestly.
‘He’s a good man. Although he’d be the first to admit an ulterior motive. He collects friends, do you see? Having been ridiculed by all and sundry when he was sent home from Britannia with the disgrace of his defeat hanging around his neck like a lead weight, he’s slowly but surely built up a group of men who know better than to castigate a man for being caught on the wrong side of an unwinnable fight. Men who know that, but for the grace of the gods, they could just as easily have found themselves in the same position. Clearly he’s taken a liking to you, and any friend of his is a man I would be pleased to consider a friend of my own.’
Betrayal: The Centurions I Page 5
