Betrayal: The Centurions I

by Riches, Anthony

  ‘Ah, Aquilifer Volpeius. Thank you for attending upon my request so swiftly. Do take a seat.’

  Blinking in surprise at such a breach of formality, he did as he was told, sitting bolt upright in anticipation of the legatus’s orders.

  ‘I have decided, Aquilifer, to take matters into my own hands. A conference with Legatus Augusti Flaccus, my fellow legatus and our senior centurions has ended without agreement. I favour declaring in support of the absolute need for a new emperor, someone more fitting and better supported than Galba, whereas the Twenty-Second Legion’s legatus is of the opposite opinion, quite at odds with that of his men, and has declared himself loyal to the emperor who has been acclaimed by the senate, no matter who that man is. After the best part of an hour’s discussion we could agree on nothing better than to consider our positions prior to another meeting later today. I believe that this refusal by both of our legions to swear loyalty to Galba means that we need to act now, and make common cause with the legions of Germania Inferior. He, on the other hand, is more cautious. I am convinced that his fear of the emperor’s revenge will prevent him from taking the sort of decisive action that is needed, and I don’t intend sitting on my hands while the men of my legion agitate for a new man on the throne.’

  Volpeius stared at him in amazement, momentarily forgetting who it was he was talking to.

  ‘You mean that you …?’

  Caecina laughed tersely.

  ‘Of course not, man! I’m too young, and too junior, to be a credible candidate to rule the empire. Added to that, there’s some talk about Galba having ordered an investigation of my dealings in my previous role as finance secretary of Hispania as well, which would probably disqualify me in the eyes of the senate. No, I’m thinking of another man, older and with a good deal more credibility than I could muster. I need to get a message to him, and let him know what has happened here today so that he can take some time to consider his first reaction. Perhaps Hordeonius Flaccus will get around to telling him what’s happened here at some point, but the man didn’t seem to know what it was he wanted when we parted, and I expect him to dither for the rest of the day before taking any action. So …’

  He stood up and Volpeius jumped to his feet as the legatus came around his desk with a message container in his hand.

  ‘My First Spear tells me you can ride?’

  The aquilifer nodded. His previous disdain for the legion’s cavalry had been put aside on his assuming his lofty position, with a brusque instruction from the previous senior centurion to master horsemanship.

  ‘If the legion stands alone in a sea of the enemy, and I have a choice between some dirty-arsed barbarian getting his paws on the eagle or my aquilifer riding away in the company of the last of our horsemen, to ensure that it comes back at the head of an army to witness the bastards’ destruction, then I’ll take the option that sees my legion’s spirit live to fight another day. Learn to ride, Volpeius, or you’re no use to that eagle and therefore no use to me.’

  As with every other military skill he’d ever learned, his mastery of horsemanship had been swift and effortless, prompting envious comments from the cavalrymen who’d been detailed to train him, and who had greeted him to their lines with much joking about teaching a mule to ride a horse but soon enough been forced to eat their words.

  ‘I have that ability, Legatus.’

  ‘Good.’ Caecina put the waxed leather tube in his hand. ‘This message is for the eyes of Legatus Augusti Vitellius, and for his eyes only. You are to defend its contents to the death. To your death if need be, but preferably that of anyone who tries to take it from you by force, in that unlikely event. You look like a man who’s not to be trifled with …’ He nodded decisively. ‘Take a horse from the messenger stables, with my authority if your own won’t suffice but keep my name out of it if you can. Ride for Colonia Agrippina, as fast and as hard as you can, changing horses at every station of the cursus publicus. My seal is on the container, use it to convince any man who attempts to get in your way that they should accede to your demands. And carry a spear. Do what you have to do, but get that message to Legatus Augusti Vitellius, into his hands and no one else’s, and before the end of the day. Time is the one thing that I don’t have enough of. Go, and speak to nobody of this.’

  Saluting, Volpeius strode from the praetorium and walked swiftly to his quarters, equipping himself with armour and weapons before making his way to the cavalry barracks where he had learned to ride the previous year. He was greeted by the senior decurion with a grin, the man seemingly untroubled by the morning’s events.

  ‘If it isn’t the mule that can ride! What can we do for you, Volpeius? Got bored with marching, have you? Decided to come and be a horse’s second arsehole like you foot-slogging cunts are always singing about?’

  Taking the man aside, the aquilifer decided to trust him with as much of the truth as would be required to gain his assistance.

  ‘This is an urgent dispatch for the legatus augusti at Colonia Agrippina. Our new legatus wants to know how the men of the First Germania reacted to being told to swear their allegiance to the emperor before he decides what to do about this morning, and he wants the legatus augusti to know the state of matters here.’

  The horseman shrugged.

  ‘That ain’t going to come as too much of a surprise, I reckon. There’s been mutterings up and down the frontier for months, from what I’ve heard. So what’s that got to do with me?’

  ‘I need a horse, and without any awkward questions being asked. A fast horse. And I need you to ride with me to the first cursus publicus stable on the road north, and help convince them to give me a mount.’

  ‘Why not just go to the cursus stables here?’ The decurion laughed knowingly as the reason for Volpeius’s request dawned on him. ‘I see. This being by way of a secret message that the legatus doesn’t want to get to the ears of that lard-bucket Flaccus, right? And if you demand a horse from the fortress stables then Legatus Augusti Flaccus will hear about it in no time. Whereas this way you can throw your weight around with the man in charge at the next stable up the road and make sure he keeps his mouth shut about a messenger riding north. Especially if you’re with me when you get there, given the fact they all know me. Come on then, it’s a nice enough day for a ride!’

  Taking a spear from the armoury for Volpeius, he led the aquilifer to the legion’s stables, picking out a horse for the big man.

  ‘Ordinarily I’d warn you that he’s a right bad-tempered bastard, but what with you having the magic touch with beasts you’ll doubtless have him on his back asking to have his belly rubbed soon enough.’

  The horse, whose name was Volcanus, was indeed restive, but soon settled down to a canter alongside the decurion’s mount, the two men riding north in silence once the inevitable exchange of ribaldry with the gate guards was done with, the two men making out that they’d agreed a New Year’s Day ride out during the Saturnalia feast.

  ‘I’ll wait to come back through the gate until the guard’s been changed, so that hopefully nobody will comment on the fact that you’re not on the horse. You can ride on to Colonia Agrippina … or wherever it is that you’re going.’

  At the eight-mile marker on the road to the north they reached the first of the cursus publicus stables, the points where horses were kept ready for official messengers riding up and down the road that followed the frontier through a succession of fortresses and auxiliary forts. Dismounting from their sweating beasts, they called for the stable’s ostler, the decurion taking the lead with a man he clearly knew well, exactly as Volpeius had hoped.

  ‘Let’s have these horses rubbed down, eh, before the chill gets to them? And my mate here needs a fresh mount, he’s carrying a message from the legatus augusti!’

  The man whose responsibility it was to issue fresh horses, and to care for the spent beasts until they were ready to run again, shook his head with a disapproving expression.

  ‘You know the rules as well as
I do. No horse will be issued without an official permit, not to nobody. If your mate here wants a mount he’ll need to—’

  ‘Come on, I know fine well you’ve broken the rules before. And all he’s going to do is ride north for a while and then turn round and ride the same horses back south again. You’ll have the beast back in its stall inside a day, and that’s a promise.’

  The ostler looked doubtful.

  ‘And what if he don’t come back? I’m down a horse which I can’t explain. I’d be flogged if I were lucky, or just killed out of hand for the crime of selling imperial property.’

  The decurion leaned closer to him, and lowered his voice.

  ‘The two legions in the Winter Camp want this message to go north as quickly as possible. Those two legions want that a lot. And if it doesn’t happen quickly enough, those legions are going to be very, very unhappy, and mostly with you. So what’s worse, some official who won’t be along to check your inventory for at least a week, or ten thousand men who live less than ten miles away? And besides, he’ll need a horse to ride back to the Winter Camp, so you can keep Volcanus here until he gets back, can’t you? Just don’t approach the bastard from behind, he kicks like a bolt thrower.’

  Reluctantly allowing Volpeius to take one of his mounts, the ostler watched with hard eyes as the aquilifer rode away to the north at a pace the beast would struggle to maintain all the way to the next cursus stable a further ten miles up the road.

  ‘So where’s he going that’s so important that he has to risk my bloody horse falling and breaking a leg, eh?’

  The decurion followed his gaze, watching as the distant figure vanished over a rise in the ground before answering.

  ‘Given the message I think he’s carrying, and the person I think he’s taking it to, my suggestion is that we’d both be wise to forget all about the whole thing. That way if anyone comes asking questions, you’ll be able to deny any involvement in whatever it is he’s involved in. Won’t you?’

  The aquilifer went north at the best speed of each successive horse for which he exchanged his spent mounts, his equipment, his no-nonsense attitude and the fact that he was riding horses bearing the cursus brand ensured that nobody asked him for his permit to be using the public messenger service’s horses, but simply assumed that he had every right to be doing so. By late afternoon he had passed all of the major fortresses on the road to the headquarters of the army of Germania Inferior, and as the sun was setting he rode up to the gates of the castrum that housed the First Germanica and the headquarters for the army of Germania Inferior, dismounting and handing the fortress’s cursus ostler the reins of a horse that was visibly exhausted, trembling with the effort of staying on its feet having been galloped most of the way from the last stables.

  ‘What have you done to this poor fucking animal, you bastard?’

  Volpeius wasn’t listening, but was instead striding towards the gate guards with a determined expression. Seeing a man well over six feet tall, bareheaded, dressed in armour of a quality well above the usual and bearing a cavalry lance, the soldiers did the only wise thing under the circumstances and called for their centurion, who took one look down his nose at the unknown soldier and shook his head in blunt rejection of his peremptory demand to be taken to the general.

  ‘Not a fucking chance. Legatus Augusti Vitellius is entertaining guests for a New Year dinner. We admitted them to the fortress less than an hour ago, and he won’t want his evening to be spoiled by the likes of you. You can wait in the—’

  He fell silent as the aquilifer allowed the point of his lance to drop from the upright position to point squarely at his face.

  ‘My name is Volpeius, Aquilifer, Fourth Macedonica. I carry a message from Legatus Caecina, my legion’s commander, for Legatus Augusti Vitellius. I’ve ridden from the Winter Camp today, leaving a trail of exhausted horses behind me, as a means of following my orders to get this message into the legatus’s hands tonight. If you won’t take me to him then get out of my fucking way, Centurion. And if you won’t get out of my way, then get ready for—’

  ‘What’s all this?’

  The senior centurion of the guard was walking towards them, and his officer snapped to attention and saluted.

  ‘First Spear! This man claims to have a message from a legatus in the Winter Camp for Legatus Augusti Vitellius!’

  The newcomer, equally as tall and imposing as Volpeius, looked at the aquilifer with interest.

  ‘Does he now? Very well Centurion, dismissed. I’ll take this from here.’

  Waiting until a visibly relieved centurion had marched stiffly out of earshot, he looked Volpeius up and down.

  ‘Aquilifer?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  The other man smiled thinly.

  ‘For one thing, you’re in armour but you’re bareheaded. And for another, I don’t know many men below the rank of legion First Spear who’d have the stones to face down a legion centurion on his own ground, much less offer to stick a spear up his nose. So you’ve ridden from the Winter Camp in a day, you say?’

  Volpeius pointed back to where his mount was being rubbed down by the indignant ostler, pointed comments reaching their ears in the cold evening air as the stable hand calmed the trembling animal.

  ‘See that beast? I’ve left a dozen more in just the same state, because my orders were to get here today without fail, and to hand this …’ He raised the message container. ‘To this man Vitellius and to nobody else. And trust me, this is one message where any delay in delivery could result in demotion of the men responsible, including me. And you, Centurion,’

  The senior centurion nodded decisively.

  ‘I can’t take you to Vitellius himself, but I can get you an audience with the man who commands my legion. And as fate would have it, Legatus Valens is currently at dinner with the very man you’re looking for. So your message will be in Vitellius’s hands soon enough that you’ll be able to say you did your duty and go to get a feed and a cup of wine with a clear conscience. Let’s just hope that whatever news it contains is important enough to disturb their dinner, eh?’

  The Old Camp, Germania Inferior, January AD 69

  ‘You wanted to see me, First Spear? I was requested to report to the principia.’

  Decimus looked up at Marius from his desk in the heart of the Fifth Alaudae’s headquarters building. The principia’s corridors and offices were bustling with activity, as had been the case since the momentous announcement from Colonia Agrippina a few days before, as the two legion’s commanders and their staff struggled to keep up with the swift changes that Legatus Augusti Vitellius’s acceptance of the imperial purple had brought upon the army of Germania Inferior.

  ‘Yes, Centurion. Come in and close the door.’ He gestured to a chair facing his desk, and Marius took off his helmet before taking a seat. ‘I expect that you share my surprise and pride at the events of the last few days.’

  Marius nodded his agreement.

  ‘Indeed, First Spear. Although to say that what’s happened has been a surprise would perhaps be an understatement?’

  ‘An understatement? I couldn’t argue with that. And within the confines of this office we’re Marius and Decimus, so you can save all that centurion and First Spear stuff for the parade ground, eh?’ The older man looked down at the tablet on the desk in front of him before speaking again. ‘If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only one who’s still wondering if this is all really happening. I’m finding it hard to believe that less than a week ago we were all loyal subjects of the emperor in Rome, freshly sworn in for another year and with nothing more troubling than the spring training schedule to exercise our minds. And now …’ Marius waited for him to continue, knowing from experience that his silence was not an invitation for discussion. ‘And now we find ourselves serving a new emperor, a man who was widely thought to be nothing more than a placeholder who has shown us his true ambitions almost overnight. One of our own, from a distinguished family,
a man whose father was an imperial governor. A man who will listen to the voice of his legions, as he’s already proved by rearresting the traitor Civilis and showing every sign of being ready to have him executed. The men are falling over to prove their loyalty to him, and when they voted to donate the contents of their burial clubs to his cause I felt we had no alternative but to follow suit …’

  He gestured to his medal harness, hanging on a hook at the office door, the leather straps devoid of their phalerae, the gilded silver discs that denoted his status, and Marius looked down at his own sword belt whose decorative silver plates had also been donated to the new emperor’s cause. Any item of equipment with a precious metal content had been collected and melted down, along with the substantial amount of coin in the legions’ savings chests, and was in the process of being converted into a new coinage which, it was rumoured, would hail the new emperor as ‘Germanicus’ rather than the term the soldiers would have preferred to see him adopt, that of ‘Caesar’. As long as they received a donative based on the new coins, he doubted any of them would be troubled by their new emperor’s caution.

  ‘It’s amazing how quickly it all happened. Two legions two hundred miles up the Rhenus refuse to swear loyalty to the emperor in Rome, and within a week every man on the river has acclaimed our legatus augusti as Caesar, and is straining at the ropes to be set loose to march on Rome. Speaking of which …’

  Decimus looked down at the tablet again, and Marius leaned forward expectantly.

  ‘We have our marching orders. The army of Germania Inferior is to commit more than half of its strength to unseating the usurper Galba, and will move south under the command of Fabius Valens, the First Germanica’s legatus. Apparently it’s his reward for being the man who persuaded Vitellius to accept the acclamation of his legion as emperor, once he’d been made aware of the ferment further south by his colleague Caecina. The informed opinion is that we’ll make sure the Gauls know their place before crossing the Alps by one of the western passes, and meet up with the army of Germania Superior somewhere in northern Italy. After that the combined army will be strong enough to crush whatever opposition Galba can put forward, and take Rome. And you, Marius, have your own very particular orders to carry out.’