‘You will regret this. Rome’s arm is long.’
Kivilaz shook his head with a chuckle.
‘Centurion, I was serving as Rome’s long arm before you’d even learned how to piss in your potty. I was the Prefect of the Batavian cohorts, the leader of four thousand men famous throughout the army as the best and bravest. That was before you men of the legions got jealous of us, of course, and decided you could live without us once the Britons had been beaten into submission. So yes, Rome’s arm is long, but Rome needs to be careful not to overreach itself and get its fingers lopped off. And you can tell Legatus Munius Lupercus this: if Rome’s legions come to the Batavi in peace, as allies bound by a treaty whose terms will be respected by both sides, and not just by the junior partner, then the Batavi will greet those legions as comrades in arms, and will do all that can be done to assist Rome in its cause.’
He paused significantly.
‘Once Rome has decided who rules, that is. Our cohorts in the service of Vitellius can look after themselves, they’re all veterans and they’ll fight for each other, but the idea of allowing you to take our young men and drop them into legion cohorts where no man cares for his comrades?’ He shook his head emphatically. ‘Is simply not acceptable, and will not happen.’
He pointed east.
‘The Old Camp is that way. Tell Munius Lupercus that he’s welcome to visit Batavodurum any time he pleases, as long as he comes in peace. If he comes to fight he will find the Batavi a harder nut to crack than he might have expected. And while you’re at it you can remind him that he still owes me his life. On your way.’
The Old Camp, Germania Inferior, August AD 69
‘They did what?’
Marius had never seen his legatus really angry, he realised. Irritated, occasionally irascible when confronted with some unfathomable aspect of military bureaucracy, but incandescent rage had never been a facet of the legatus’s behaviour before that moment. His superior leaned forward across his desk with the look of a man who intended visiting violence on someone in the very near future and wasn’t overly concerned with who that person might be, and even as the centurion started to explain his shocking news it occurred to him that the only person present on whom that ire could be vented was himself.
‘One of the recruiting centurions lost control of his men. They raped a Batavi youth, and the detachment in question was intercepted by the tribe’s new guardsmen before they could make it off their land. The fact that they were allowed to live is probably a testament to the discipline of the men who uncovered the truth of what they’d done. Civilis and his decurion Hramn stripped them of their armour and weapons and sent them on their way with a warning not to come back if they valued their skins, then hunted down every other recruiting party and did the same to them. They came back through the gate half an hour ago, just after dark, with nothing more than their boots and tunics.’
Lupercus stared at him for a moment, one hand on the hilt of his pugio, and for a moment Marius saw the naked urge in his eyes to unsheathe the weapon and allow its blade to taste blood, but after a long moment staring at his First Spear the legatus shook his head in amazement. Stabbing a finger at the desk for emphasis, he grated out his orders in a tone that brooked no argument.
‘The centurion commanding that detachment is to be reduced to the ranks immediately, with a note on his record that he should never be promoted above the rank of soldier again. He’s clearly proved himself incapable of controlling his men.’
Marius nodded, but as he opened his mouth to speak Lupercus raised a hand.
‘Not yet, First Spear, I’m not done. Get the rest of the officers involved re-equipped, then take them out onto the parade ground before dawn tomorrow morning, and tell them all to consider their actions very, very carefully. Any man who confesses to a crime committed by himself or his men in the course of this abortive mission will receive the same treatment, permanent reduction to the ranks, while any man who declares his conscience to be clear will receive my full backing as an unfortunate victim of circumstances and their colleagues’ stupidity. But should any of the latter be proved to have carried out or permitted any such act of despoilment, or theft, or murder, both they and any perpetrator will be crucified without any prospect of mercy. And that sentence will be carried out in front of the entire legion, and the legion will remain paraded until they are dead. Is that understood?’
Marius saluted.
‘We will do what is ordered and at every command we will be ready, Legatus!’
He turned to leave the office, only to be frozen in place by the legatus’s softly spoken rejoinder.
‘I’m not finished, First Spear.’
Turning back, he drew himself up to attention.
‘Legatus.’
Lupercus stared at him for a moment across the desk before sinking back into his chair.
‘No, Marius, I don’t want your vine stick. That was your expectation, I take it?’
The centurion nodded, and Lupercus laughed bitterly.
‘What earthly good would it do me to be deprived of my senior centurion at a time like this? Do you think I want to face the consequences of this act of idiocy on my own? I’m going to need all of your skill and determination over the next few weeks, I suspect. But we have to recognise what’s brought us to where we are, given that we may very well just have given the Batavians all the cause they need to go to war with us.’
He looked up at the office’s roof for a moment before speaking again.
‘Let’s be clear about this, First Spear. You and I are in a very lonely place at this point in time. The emperor issued us with an instruction, which was only ever going to end in failure and repercussion, no matter how reasonable it will have seemed when viewed from the perspective of a non-military man with an empire at stake, not to mention his own life. After all, the throne has already killed three men in the last year, and with Vespasianus in open revolt it looks likely that there’ll be a fourth victim before this year is done with. And I know who my money would be on as the more likely of the two to come out on top.
‘And so, in attempting to carry out his orders to the best degree possible given the circumstances, we’ve run headlong into the consequences of previous decisions that were made at a level neither of us could influence. Tell me, this centurion who failed to keep his men in check, was he a chosen man six months ago?’
Marius nodded.
‘And there’s the proof. We were forced to promote men who weren’t ready, who perhaps might never have been ready in normal times, and as a consequence one of those men has permitted his men to do something that has given Civilis all the excuse he needs to switch his role from that of a willing, if misused, servant of the empire to tribal warlord. So organise the punishments I’ve ordered, First Spear, and redouble your efforts to get our men ready to fight. Dismissed.’
Marius saluted again, but before he could turn for the door Lupercus raised a hand.
‘Oh, and one more thought. Make sure your men are as practised at retreating as they are going forward, eh? I suspect we may have need of that under-regarded piece of military skill. Call it advancing to the rear if you like, but make sure that when the time comes your men aren’t falling over their own feet, because I doubt we’ll get a second chance to get it right.’
10
Oppidum Batavorum, August AD 69
‘Tell me, Kivilaz, what is it that you want from us? And why have you chosen to bring us here, of all places?’
Tiberius Claudius Labeo had been the first man to approach the Batavi prince on his appearance in the grove, voicing the question that was on the lips of every one of the dozen men Kivilaz had invited to meet in that place and at that time. Dressed in a military tunic of fine wool, his boots and belt waxed and buffed to a shine, he was every inch an officer in the service of Rome, whereas Kivilaz was dressed more simply, having seemingly chosen to eschew the uniform he was entitled to wear. Hramn, discreetly standing at the clearing’s
edge, was dressed equally finely in his own uniform, with a silver and gold decorated dagger hanging from his belt.
‘Why here? What better place could there be to discuss the matters I wish to raise with the tribal council? Until a century ago the tribe worshipped in groves like this, sending our prayers to Magusanus, greatest of the gods. And then Caesar came, and in our haste to ally with Rome we allowed the suggestion that their god Hercules and Magusanus are one and the same to result in our abandoning the groves, and moved our places of worship into Batavodurum itself, alongside temples to Rome’s emperors who, they tell us, are deities in their own right. This place sums up our relationship with Rome, I’d say, and provides the perfect setting for the questions I wish to raise with you all.’
He grinned at Labeo, reaching for a cup.
‘And besides, given that this grove is nicely hidden from prying eyes, what better place to take a cup of wine and discuss the world around us?’
Pouring himself a measure of wine, he gestured to his guests to join him and waited until they were seated at the rough table he had bidden Hramn to erect in front of the grove’s ancient altar.
‘Long life!’
He drank the cup dry and refilled it.
‘So, brother, what do I want from you?’
The prince shook his head briskly.
‘In truth I don’t want anything from you. I simply thought that an opportunity to discuss the tribe’s situation, without the risk of that discussion being communicated back to the Romans, might be … wise? You know as well as I do that they do not trust any of their allies, and always pay men among each of the German tribes to report back to them the doings of those men with influence. Why else would I have suggested that we meet here?’
He waved a hand at the trees around them, illuminated by the light of a dozen torches. Labeo nodded, but still looked far from convinced. Standing, he gestured to the men around him, the most influential members of the tribe, without whom no major decision could be made.
‘Before we hear what you have to say, you should be very clear that the feeling among the tribe’s citizens is that you have already brought the Batavis’ good name with our allies into disrepute. We consider it unlikely that a man can be imprisoned for the alleged crime of treason twice without the distinct possibility that there are some genuine questions for him to answer. Perhaps the new emperor’s dismissal of the German Bodyguard was not entirely disconnected from your own imprisonment in Rome at the same time? And now he has ordered conscription of our men, a clear signal that he intends to tear up our treaty with Rome.’
He looked around his audience.
‘Can we truly believe that this is entirely without just cause? Perhaps Rome has decided not to trust the Batavi as a consequence of your association with this man Vindex?’
Kivilaz drew breath to respond, but Labeo raised a hand to silence him.
‘And further, brother, many of the men who have recently achieved citizenship, or whose fathers were the first of their line to achieve that status, like myself, for example, harbour suspicions that you have been manoeuvring, and continue those efforts, to have yourself proclaimed leader of the tribe. You men of the Julii, Augusti and Tiberii, those of our tribe’s noble families that were granted citizen status in the reigns of the first emperors, you have enjoyed a monopoly on power within the tribe until recently, using the votes of your families and the men allied with you to elect magistrates within your own ranks. For this reason little has changed from the days where your ancestors were kings, but with each successive generation more and more men from the tribe’s ordinary families have earned citizenship through their service, to the point where they outnumber the men from the old nobility. It is only our division, our failure to vote together, that has prevented a change in this situation. But then you’re a clever man, aren’t you Kivilaz, you know all this to be true without having to be told. Perhaps you feel threatened?’
He stared at Kivilaz in silence for a moment.
‘And perhaps you should. There are many men, men like me, men who gained their citizenship under Claudius and Nero, who resent the fact that the older, greater families seem reluctant to relinquish their control over our people’s doings. And there is a time not far off now, when we will band together and vote for a magistrate who will fairly represent our interests, and argue as strongly for them as the current office holder does for yours. And now you bring us together, not in our town hall where more rational opinions can hold sway, but in a sacred grove where all that is missing to return us to the time before the Romans came with the gift of civilisation is a priest sacrificing to Magusanus on that altar. Or is that also part of your plan for the tribe?’
He sat down, leaning back in his chair with the look of a man who was pleased with his work, gesturing for Kivilaz to take his turn. The prince took another drink from his cup and wiped his lips with the back of his hand before getting to his feet, looking around the brightly lit grove.
‘As I say, I requested you all to come here as my guests in order that we might discuss the current crisis …’ He raised a hand to forestall any comment from the man who had spoken before. ‘Claudius Labeo would have you believe that nothing has changed in the last year, and that Rome remains just as beneficent a master as it ever was. That the recent upheavals will resolve themselves, one way or another, with an eventual return to stability and prosperity, whether under Vitellius or Vespasianus. And there is much within me that would dearly like this to be true, and yet …’
He looked at Labeo for a moment before continuing.
‘If I have brought the Batavi into disrepute, it has been through no conscious act of rebellion against Rome. I met with Vindex, when the fool was trumpeting himself as “the saviour of humanity” and busily minting coinage rather than taking any practical steps to defend his revolt from the inevitable backlash, but only to counsel him to make peace with the men sent to deal with him. Counsel that he accepted. There would have been peace in Gaul, my brothers, but for the officers of the legions who came south against him, proud men who desired conflict, hate-filled men who would not allow that peace agreement to bear fruit!’
He clenched a fist in frustration.
‘They ordered their legionaries to attack, a pack of wolves unleashed on sheep, and when Vindex’s meagre forces had been scattered they implicated me in the uprising as a means of diverting the blame for such a one-sided massacre from themselves. It was the centurions who dragged our tribe’s name into the dirt, brothers, and it was they who were responsible for my brother Paulus’s execution, ordered by a legatus who was unable to resist their demands for blood. They would have had my blood too, had he not been compelled to send me to Rome for an imperial judgement. A judgement, brothers, that exonerated me completely. And then, not content with that, these same upstart soldiers, the best of them worse than the meanest man of the tribe in their single-minded lust to see me dead, persuaded this new emperor, this Vitellius, a man more dedicated to the pleasures of the flesh than the rule of the civilised world, to arrest me once again. It was only his calculation that he would be better with the Batavi as allies than enemies that saw me released a second time. But the third time I am accused – and trust me in this, my brothers, there most assuredly will be a third time, if these same centurions have their way, when this war is over and Vitellius has no further need for my influence on the tribe – there will be no reprieve. There is an executioner waiting in my future, I know that. And if it were just me, well …’
He bowed his head wearily.
‘If it were only me the Romans wanted to see dead then I would take my own life, both to frustrate the centurions’ desire to see me suffer and to give the rest of you peace. But it isn’t only me, brothers, it is every last one of us. These same centurions, these bloody-handed animals who slaughtered Vindex’s men, they want to see the Batavi bent to their will, and our men conscripted into their legions to feed their civil war. A war that will consume the empire, and see
our men lying dead on battlefields we neither know nor care about by the thousand. It’s not me they want, it’s us.’
He paused, looking around him.
‘All of us. They would see every man in this grove dead, given the opportunity, and the Batavi reduced to no better status than the slave peoples of their provinces, rather than the free men we are now.’
He looked at Labeo with a sad smile.
‘Can you deny my words, Claudius Labeo? Can you deny that Rome’s urge to expand and enslave is as strong as it ever was? Before you answer, allow me to remind you of our time in Britannia.’
The other man nodded slowly, pursing his lips in reluctant agreement, and Kivilaz smiled sadly at him.
‘Will you tell them, or should I spare you that pain?’
Labeo waved a hand in silence, and Kivilaz picked up his cup and drank, milking the tension that held every man in the room.
‘We served together in Britannia, Tiberius Claudius Labeo and I, and we saw at first hand the way that the Romans do business. Their foreign wars are sponsored by men of such wealth that they could buy and sell the Batavi and think nothing of it, donating huge fortunes to equip and transport the legions to the scene of their next conquest. A thousand ships were built to carry the army of the man whose name our brother Labeo proudly uses to Britannia, an island populated by a dozen noble tribes much like our own. One thousand ships, as many as sailed to assault ancient Troy, built with money provided by rich and clever men who fully intended to profit from what they saw as nothing more than a business venture. Of course we were young, and wanted nothing more than glory for the tribe, so we fought battles for them that tore the heart out of the Britons’ resistance, assisting the Romans to conquer a swathe of territory big enough for these money men to go to work, loaning funds to the newly conquered peoples to build temples and baths, to copy their new masters’ image of civilisation. And when those loans came due and could not be paid, or when the men who had incurred the debt died, then the bankers would cry foul and call in the centurions to do the dirty work of extorting what they were due. Why do you imagine Boudicca rose against Rome? Because of the violent annexation of her dead husband’s kingdom when he tried to leave his daughters some part of his fortune. Daughters who were raped by men just like those who came here looking for conscripts and victims for their urge to sully our youth, while his wife was flogged for her temerity. And now we find ourselves faced with the same choice that confronted Boudicca, I fear.’
Betrayal: The Centurions I Page 34
