He took another drink, peering over the rim of his cup as if waiting for an interjection, and one of the men facing him spoke up, his tongue loosened by the wine.
‘But what would you have us do, Kivilaz? Even Boudicca discovered the futility of defying an empire. Do you intend for the Batavi to defy Rome in the same way, and risk the same wholesale destruction and enslavement that overtook the Iceni once we were done with them?’
Lowering the cup, Kivilaz nodded his acknowledgement of the point.
‘Well pointed out, Nero Claudius Ariston. But there is one crucial difference between our position and that of the Iceni tribe.’
He took another sip, smiling at the unspoken question on every face.
‘What is that difference? I will tell you, brothers. The Iceni rose against a united Rome, they insulted Rome in ways that Rome never forgets and never forgives, and they paid the full and bitter price for doing so. Whereas we?’
Another sip, another pause.
‘We, brothers, have an emperor on our side.’
Labeo sat forward, his eyes wide with amazement.
‘You mean?’
‘Yes. Vespasianus. The emperor in the east. The man against whom Vitellius now turns his entire army, recklessly leaving the Rhenus unguarded by legions little better than no legions at all, forcing him to show his true intentions toward the Batavi in this attempt to conscript our young men. Making those same centurions who dream of our enslavement bold enough to insult our children’s honour. I tell you this, brothers, if Vitellius defeats Vespasianus then the return of his victorious legions to the Old Camp will be the death knell of our way of life. Our independence will be torn from us as roughly as a maiden’s virtue in a time of conquest, our cohorts will be posted to the other side of the empire to prevent them from coming to our aid, and we will be no better than the Ubii, or the Tungri, enslaved in all but word. Whereas …’
He sipped again.
‘Whereas if Vespasianus wins, and we are seen to have been instrumental in that victory, our current way of life will continue.’
‘How can you know that? Unless …’ Labeo shook his head in disbelief. ‘You’ve been colluding with an enemy of the state?’
Kivilaz smiled at him.
‘There’s that question of where a man views the question from again. Your “enemy of the state” is another man’s “rightful emperor”. And I have hardly colluded with the man, although we have received certain encouragements from him of late.’
‘I’m sure you have!’ Labeo’s voice was heavy with irony. ‘I’m sure he’d say whatever was needed to have an uprising in Vitellius’s rear distracting his attention at just the right time!’
Kivilaz shrugged.
‘As you will know, I have recently received a visitor, a scholar I met in Rome after my trial and release. Gaius Plinius Secundus, a friend of Vespasianus’s son-in-law and secretly his agent in Rome. He told me that his patron has been watching events closely, waiting to see how the eventual victor behaved, and, when Vespasianus decided to make his claim for the throne, Plinius already knew what was expected of him as a result of previous instructions from Egypt. He told me that he has delivered a similar message to the commander of the German army, Hordeonius Flaccus, and that Flaccus was sympathetic to Vespasianus’s cause. And the message?’
He looked around the table.
‘He asked me to consider bringing the Batavi to his cause, as you say, Labeo, to distract our mutual enemy’s forces and make his own victory more likely.’
The other man shook his head in disbelief.
‘And what was your answer?’
Kivilaz shrugged.
‘What answer could I give? For one thing the situation had not yet arisen, and to speak of it publicly would have been to condemn a good few of us to death, in all likelihood. And, more importantly, how could I answer without the authority of the tribe? I do not mistake myself for a prince in anything but name. And so …’
He opened his arms to encompass the silent gathering.
‘I throw the discussion open to you, my brothers. On the one hand, we have a man who might well become emperor who is asking for our support to help make him victorious, and who promises to restore balance to the relationship between Rome and the Batavi. A simple, straightforward soldier known to many of us from our days in Britannia, an honest man who shares many of the virtues that we ourselves hold so dear. And on the other, Vitellius, unable and most likely unwilling to control the depredations of his centurions, men who have assumed power beyond that of their role. An emperor who, once victory has been secured, will allow his men to go about destroying our previous harmonious coexistence with Rome, no matter what support we provide him in the coming struggle, and despite the unassailable fact that, to judge from the reports I’ve received, without our cohorts at Cremona that battle might have ended very differently. An emperor happy to unleash his dogs to conscript and abuse our men, and who doubtless will extend that treatment to the women of the tribe, given the opportunity. I have no doubt where my lot would go, were we to vote on the matter.’
He sat back in his chair and took a deep drink of his wine, waiting while the men gathered around his table erupted into a tumult of discussion. After a moment he drained the wine and banged it down hard on the table. The men around him started, and in that instant of silence he spoke again with a knowing smile.
‘Of course there is one more reason why I believe the time has come to rise against the Romans. A reason some of you may have heard about. Which is why I chose to meet with you all here, in the cradle of the religion we used to hold dear. A religion still very much alive on the other side of the river.’
He looked about him with a smile, waiting to see who would be the first man to ask the question.
Oppidum Cananefates, August AD 69
‘Revolt? Against the Romans?’
The de facto leader of the Cananefates tribe looked at Kivilaz solemnly for a moment before bursting into laughter, shaking his head and then looking around the tribe’s clan chiefs with a look of amazement that invited them to join in with his amusement.
‘You hear this, my brothers? This prince of the Batavi, a man who has fought alongside the Romans for twenty-five years and more, invites the Cananefates to join him in a rebellion against the very empire his people has served so faithfully since the days of his great-grandfather’s father. Even your Roman name, Gaius Julius Civilis, tells us how long it has been since the Batavi, and by means of our alliance with the Batavi, the Cananefates too, have been anything other than faithful servants of Rome!’
Kivilaz nodded equably.
‘I cannot deny anything you say, Brinno. Your people and mine have served Rome together for longer than any man can claim to remember. Two cohorts of your warriors accompany the Batavi into battle, and have won honour with Rome on more battlefields than either of us could name. And yet …’
The Cananefates leader leaned forward.
‘And yet? And yet what? My people have followed your tribe’s lead all these years, fought, and bled, and died for Rome. And now you stroll into my hall and tell me that you plan to betray the Romans? Have you lost your wits, brother?’
The Batavi prince grinned at him, laughing softly.
‘Some within my own tribe made the same challenge, if not quite as bluntly. You are the son of your father, Brinno, clearly descended from the man who told Caligula that his military schemes were idiocy and walked away with his head still attached to his body because the emperor saw a man cast from the same metal as himself, walking that fine line between frank counsel and suicidal honesty.’
Brinno raised an eyebrow.
‘Your flattery is welcome, Kivilaz, but hardly likely to influence me.’
‘Not flattery. A blunt statement of the facts. My own people were just as sceptical as you, to begin with, and I relish your disbelief as an opportunity to rework the arguments I used to convince them that we, Batavi and Cananefates both, yes, and the
Marsaci, and the Frisavones, we all stand on the edge of a moment of decision that will determine whether we remain as proud and independent peoples allied to a mighty empire, or become just subject peoples, ground underfoot by Rome simply because that is the nature of empire. Any empire.’
The Cananefates prince looked at him flatly.
‘Go on then. Persuade me. And more than that, persuade these men that I have come to trust for their honest and sensible counsel.’
Kivilaz leaned back in his chair, weighing his words.
‘I could tell you that the empire is tottering, on the edge of falling into an abyss after a century of rule which, while no man could ever describe as enlightened, has at least provided its people, and our tribes too, with stability and, for the most part, prosperity. Nero’s suicide has allowed the dogs who played at the emperor’s feet to become bold, and to sink their teeth into the juicy meat on the table rather than the bones they were previously accustomed to receiving. First there was an old man, a throwback to the days of Augustus but lacking in that great man’s intellect and sure touch. Now dead, murdered by his own praetorians after having dismissed the very men of our tribes who, still loyal to the throne, might have saved him from that treachery. His murderer was a young fool, who grabbed for the ultimate prize and then, having captured it, found himself unequal to the task of imperium. Now dead, and by his own hand, like the callow boy he was. Which leaves the empire in the hands of a man not fit to clean the shoes of the leader after whom I am named. If there were a Gaius Julius Caesar to follow in this world I would throw my entire strength behind him, but there is not, which means that the emperor who has risen in the east, this man Vespasianus, is the best hope that civilisation will survive this cataclysm.’
Brinno nodded.
‘We know this man, having fought alongside him in Britannia. And as you say, he is a man of common sense and decency. But what if we stand for him, and do as you suggest, and he then loses his fight for the throne? If that comes to pass, then surely that which you profess to fear, the destruction of our independence, must inevitably follow.’
The Batavi noble smiled wanly.
‘Such an unwelcome state of affairs is inevitable under Vitellius, whether we rise and strike his armies at this moment of their maximum weakness or not. If we sink the dagger into them their revenge will doubtless be bloody, with fire and slavery, but if we sit here meekly and wait for the struggle to play out, to whatever result, our days as independent tribes will be numbered.’
He leaned forward, fixing the Cananefates with a level stare.
‘If Vitellius wins then his centurions will return to their fortresses ready to conclude their unfinished business with the Batavi, and where the Batavi are seen as the enemy you can be sure that the Cananefates will be eggs in the same basket. But if Vespasianus wins without our assistance he will hardly be minded to hold out the hand of friendship that will protect us from those same officers, embittered by defeat and looking for a dog to kick.’
‘But if we rise?’
‘I have assurances from a man who is close to Vespasianus, a man who seeks our help to topple this gluttonous, idle emperor who will embody the worst possible combination of sloth and venality in his rule. Assurances that our intervention in the struggle between these two will be rewarded with guarantees of our independence, and the appointment of a legatus augusti to command the army of Germania Inferior who will serve as their guarantor. More than that, he has suggested that such loyal service to our former comrade in arms will be rewarded with the establishment of a truly independent Batavi homeland, with the Cananefates equally free to govern themselves as our allies.’
Brinno stroked his beard.
‘So your reward is to become the new king of the Batavi?’
‘Hah! Not likely! I have suffered too much in the last year at the hands of Rome’s servants to harbour any such ambition! My brother Paulus was killed for a crime that he did not commit. I myself was imprisoned under sentence of death twice for the same crime, of which I was never guilty, and freed both times not because Rome recognised my innocence but for reasons of mere expediency. I wish for nothing more than the chance to see my people stay free, and for the threat posed to our independence by the legions that eye us balefully from the Old Camp to be stamped flat once and for all. Let other men worry about how the Batavi should be governed, I will serve the tribe in whatever capacity is granted to me.’
The Cananefates leader pulled a disbelieving face.
‘For a man to be granted the power of a war leader, and then to step away from that golden cup and return to his plough like the Roman generals of the old days are supposed to have done – that I would enjoy watching. For my part, I would seek the leadership of my tribe under this new treaty, and I can be sure that my people would grant me that role, for I love them and they love me.’
Heads nodded around the table at the unassailable truth in his words.
‘But I care little what you do or do not hope for as a result of sinking your sword deep into Rome’s back, only for the chances of such a bold step resulting in anything other than the destruction of this hall, and the end of my ancestors’ line. I presume that you have a plan to put the Romans in the position of the most disadvantage, before you strike the blow that will put them on their knees?’
Kivilaz’s face creased into a smile.
‘I have a plan, Brinno, that will have the Romans confident in their victory over our meagre forces until the moment that the realities of the day become clear to them. A plan, it seems, that has the favour not only of my tribe but of the gods themselves, if reports from the tribes across the river are to be believed.’
The Old Camp, August AD 69
‘Very well, Legatus, your message certainly succeeded in getting my attention. I suggest that you brief me on the latest situation.’
General Flaccus had arrived at the fortress in the Rhenus fleet’s flagship less than an hour before, and under normal conditions would have enjoyed a sweat in the commanding officer’s bathhouse before getting down to business. Instead he had immediately been led to the headquarters building, where the two legions’ remaining military tribunes and the centurions commanding their cohorts were already gathered, awaiting his arrival. Munius Lupercus stood, pointing to a map of the area to the east of the fortress.
‘As my message told you, Legatus, we have reason to believe that the Batavians are planning an uprising, and our information is that their allies the Cananefates will attack our forts at the eastern end of their territory any time now. We also have very good reason to believe that their leader Civilis will then use this as a pretext to gather all of the Batavian troops he can muster into one force, which he will then turn against us in a further act of betrayal. All in the name of Vespasianus’s rebellion against the throne, but secretly for his own ends, and the re-establishment of the Batavian kingdom.’
Flaccus shook his head in disbelief.
‘I’ve been turning this over in my mind all the way downriver, and I still find it difficult to believe this intelligence you claim to have come by. Gods below man, Civilis is a veteran of every battle fought in Britannia since the invasion! And the Batavians are a loyal ally of Rome, for all that there’s been some unhappiness between us of late. They were instrumental to the defeat of Otho’s army at the Po, and no more faithful auxiliaries exist in all of the …’
He fell silent as a man stepped forward from behind Lupercus, saluting smartly and waiting to be addressed.
‘And you are?’
‘Tiberius Claudius Labeo, Legatus.’
‘You’re … Batavian?’
‘Commander of the Batavian cavalry wing, Legatus, based at Ridge Fort, close to Batavodurum.’
Flaccus stared at Labeo for a moment.
‘But you’re not in Batavodurum, are you, Prefect? You’re here …’ He thought for a moment. ‘With your unit? I presume that you’re the source of this most recent intelligence on their hostile intention
s?’
The Batavian nodded.
‘Yes, Legatus. When the mood among our people hardened to the point that rebellion was being discussed, I thought it best to relocate my command before the men became prey to the sedition that was being proposed.’
‘I see.’ The general looked at his colleague. ‘Very well, Munius Lupercus, you can consider your point made. But before I permit this man to tell his story I’ll be needing a strong chair and a large cup of wine. And not necessarily in that order.’
Seated, and having graciously commanded that the gathered officers should follow his example, he regarded the Batavian officer over the rim of his cup while taking a first sip at its contents.
‘Good wine, Lupercus. As usual you are to be commended on the quality of your estate’s vintage. It’s rare to find anything this good so close to the edge of the world. Now then, Tiberius Claudius Labeo, let’s have your story. And be sure not to spare any of those little details that might convince me that I haven’t been dragged all this way just to listen to some alarmist nonsense with a tribal feud at the heart of the matter, rather than a revolt that could be a disaster for the empire.’
Labeo stood and pointed at the painted map of the area governed by the Old Camp’s legions that covered half a wall.
‘When you look at that map, Legatus, you see a tribal territory that provides the empire with eight cohorts of part-mounted infantry, one cavalry wing to police the tribe’s territory, and of late, a five-hundred-strong unit of men who were formerly the emperor’s bodyguard, who have further been training two cohorts of militia to a reasonable standard of competence. I’ve seen them drilling, Legatus, and what they lack in equipment they compensate for in discipline and fighting spirit. The former soldiers of the German Bodyguard have turned them into an effective force, given the right circumstances.’
Betrayal: The Centurions I Page 35
