Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7]

by Douglas Jackson

  A little voice in his head told him to let go, just drop into the crashing maelstrom and end it all. But Serpentius, whether by accident or design, kicked him in the head with an iron-shod sandal and suddenly his mind cleared.

  Endure.

  Survive.

  The intensity of the shaking increased, accompanied by a new roar. Did he imagine it or was the pressure of the shaft walls on his shoulders increasing? The forces being imposed inside the hill were beginning to change its shape. He remembered the bulging slopes again and the moment the entire hill had erupted like a pullet’s egg hit by a sling shot.

  He could almost hear the grinding as the stones moved together. So much power was being exerted that soon the shaft must collapse. He and Serpentius would be mere bloody smears and bone fragments lost in the fabric of the earth.

  On and on it went until with a clap like thunder his blind world altered fundamentally. The stone support fell away beneath his feet and Valerius’s heart stopped as he fell with it. A savage jerk on his wrist halted his plunge. By some miracle Serpentius had retained his hold on the belt. He hung there like a half-drowned rat as water surged up the shaft unconstrained by the cloaks and for a moment he was drowning, his nose and mouth filled and struggling for breath. But with a second, much louder thunderous roar the water dropped away as fast as it had risen and his legs were dangling in clear air. Below him the torrent continued to rush by for another few moments before he heard it fade away. They waited in the disbelieving silence until their battered minds convinced them they had truly survived.

  ‘You can drop me now,’ Valerius croaked to Serpentius.

  A moment later his heart was in his mouth as he plunged to land with a splash in the shallow stream below. As Serpentius climbed down after him, Valerius untied the thin strip of leather that had undoubtedly saved his life. They walked slowly in the direction the water was flowing. Fifty paces ahead where there had been a solid wall of rock they could see the far side of a broad valley bathed in soft moonlight and the blur of distant hills. A boulder the height of a tall man and broad as a two-wheeled cart lay where it had been thrown against one wall. Valerius was certain it hadn’t been there earlier and marvelled again at the immense power of ruina montium. Of Hostilius Nepos there was no sign. He might never have existed.

  ‘Why are we still alive?’ Serpentius whispered in awe as they looked down upon the swath of destruction below the opening. The hill had been eviscerated by the hydraulic mining process and now its entrails were scattered in a mile-long trail of mud and boulders that glittered silver and black beneath the moon. By a freak of nature two or three areas of hill survived to stand out as jagged mounds against the night sky behind them.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Valerius’s voice echoed the Spaniard’s wonder. ‘Maybe the air shaft was designed to be another fracture point. Because we kept the water out, that section of hill survived. Maybe Fortuna was watching over us.’

  ‘Then let’s hope she stays with us for a while longer.’ Serpentius studied the drop for a few moments before coming to a decision. He levered himself over the ragged edge, grunted as his injured shoulder took his weight and lowered himself on to the mud slope.

  He looked up. ‘We need to get out of here and back to Avala.’

  He waited for Valerius to join him, ankle-deep in the mire. They started off down the incline, their sandalled feet making a loud sucking sound with every step. There were muttered low curses as they stumbled over hidden boulders. Serpentius picked one up. ‘If there was any justice one of these would be a great big lump of gold.’

  ‘If there was any justice we’d be dead.’

  ‘The important thing,’ Serpentius continued, ‘is that they think we’re dead. They must have had someone watching the entrance, so they know there’s no chance we could have survived this. I’d much prefer it stayed that way. With Fortuna’s favour the horses will still be where we left them. If we can reach them before daylight I can get us back without meeting any hook-noses.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘It depends whether Tito and Julia succeeded in persuading her father to change sides. If they did, we need to know what he knows. If not, and we both think that’s more likely, you should ride directly for Tarraco, and hand over what little evidence you have to Pliny. Convince him that he’s needed here. Melanius is the key. If you can persuade the governor his old friend should be arrested I don’t think any of the others will put up much of a fight.’

  ‘You’re forgetting about Harpocration and his hook-noses,’ Valerius reminded him. ‘If he’s taken he’ll end up hanging from a cross and his men will spend the rest of their lives down the mines. No, the Parthians will either fight or run.’

  ‘I hope they run in our direction,’ Serpentius said. ‘I have debts to pay.’

  XLII

  ‘We march on Tarraco in one week.’ In the shocked silence that followed, Marcus Atilius Melanius waited for the inevitable protests. Why should they look surprised? He’d been telling them for months this was the only way to save their skins. Had they really been so deluded as to think it would never happen?

  ‘But you said Verrens and this other man …’

  ‘They call him Nathair, dear Severus,’ Melanius said patiently. ‘A Zoelan troublemaker who previously worked with Petronius.’

  ‘You said they were dead.’

  ‘Obliterated,’ the leader confirmed. ‘All our searchers found were a few scraps of tattered flesh and splintered bone.’

  ‘I’d still have preferred to see their heads.’ A new voice, harsh and heavily accented.

  ‘That is because you are still at heart a barbarian, prefect.’ Melanius graced Claudius Harpocration with a smile that took the edge off his words. ‘You have seen ruina montium. Can you imagine what it must have been like in that mine? I cannot think of a worse or more terrifying death than being torn apart in the bowels of the earth. Quite fitting, I think, and they will certainly never trouble us again.’

  ‘But that is my point,’ Severus persisted. ‘With Verrens, this Nathair and the traitor Nepos disposed of we have nothing to fear.’

  Melanius sighed. For a man with such a high opinion of himself Asturica’s duovir could be such a fool. It was like herding a flock of sheep with the wolves howling in the distance. Yet he had to admit that, if they were nervous, it was with some justification. Because this was truly the point of no return. He must be patient.

  ‘We are safe,’ he agreed, ‘for now. But all we are doing is delaying the inevitable.’ A stillness fell over the room and he met the gaze of each man in turn. ‘What has been done cannot be undone. We are all agreed upon that?’ He waited until each man nodded and he saw resistance replaced by equal measures of resignation and resolution. ‘And we are all aware of the repercussions if our … private arrangements … are discovered. The very painful repercussions, both for ourselves and for our families. Let me be entirely frank with you, gentlemen; if we do not act now – agree this very day – then we would be as well going home, taking to our beds and cutting our wrists.’

  ‘Aren’t you being overdramatic, Melanius?’ Ferox, the other dissenter, flushed with his success at the mine. ‘Without Nepos and the information he stole they have nothing. Much can be done in the matter of covering up any evidence.’

  ‘Are we so certain Nepos was the only informant?’ Melanius demanded. ‘And we have no idea if anything was taken from Fronton’s villa before the fire. His daughter is still missing, I understand. What else is still missing? We all know he was our greatest weakness. A man prone to keeping records. I should have dealt with him earlier. But that is not the point. We have one chance and one chance only. If we do not take it we do not deserve to survive. I have had dispatches from Rome suggesting that Vespasian may be preparing to send a full legion to Hispania Tarraconensis to replace or reinforce the five cohorts of the Sixth stationed at Legio.’ An indrawn breath from Ferox, and Melanius saw Severus’s fists clench convulsively. They’d heard
the rumours, but this was close to confirmation, and they knew what it meant. Melanius used the opportunity to reinforce his point. ‘In another month it will be too late. If we do not march now the campaigning season will be over by the time we reach Tarraco. Our wagons will be up to their axles in mud and Pliny will have time to close the gates on us. If we act swiftly, we can take him by surprise. The Sixth are ready, Calpurnius?’ He already knew the answer, but it did no harm to allow the Peacock to have his say. Piso had been quivering like a hound who’d sighted a deer since the meeting had started.

  ‘Proculus is being his usual obstructive self,’ the young tribune complained. ‘But he knows he either does as we say or falls on his sword. He is not of a sacrificial inclination. The tribunes are with me, the palms of the centurions well filled with gold and their heads with promises of advancement. The soldiers will do as they are ordered. They think they are reacting to an insurrection in Tarraco and are looking forward to some action against lightly armed rebels.’

  ‘Good,’ Melanius congratulated him. ‘And of course,’ he bowed to Harpocration, ‘we can depend on our faithful auxiliaries of the First Parthorum.’

  ‘They will follow me to Hades,’ the bearded prefect assured him.

  ‘But we are so few,’ Severus stuttered.

  ‘Enough and more to take the city,’ Melanius assured him. ‘But you are right: if we are to hold it we will need more soldiers. Calpurnius, perhaps you would like to tell us about your successful visit to our friends in Germania?’

  ‘The men of the Tenth have not been paid for two months.’ Piso’s eyes shone with boyish enthusiasm. ‘They feel no loyalty to Vespasian, are sick of the damp and chill winds of the Rhenus frontier and wish to return to Hispania. My cousin has been working on our behalf and I have an assurance from their senior officers that they will join up with us outside Tarraco at the end of July. It will take them a week longer to make the journey so they may already have started their march. The other legions on the Rhenus are still furious at Vespasian for the way he sacrificed them to the Batavians during the civil war and for cashiering their comrades in the First Germanica and Fourth Macedonica when Civilis was defeated.’

  ‘We will take Tarraco and hold it.’ Melanius skilfully regathered the reins of the meeting. ‘The timing will give Vespasian no opportunity to react before winter sets in. Once the Tenth and the Sixth have hailed Calpurnius Piso, descendant of Divine Caesar, as Emperor, the legions of Germania will do likewise. In the spring, we will combine and march on Rome before Vespasian can summon help from Syria.’

  ‘What about the legions of Pannonia and Illyricum, and those on the Danuvius?’

  ‘The Danuvius was where Marcus Antonius Primus sent the legions he shattered at Cremona,’ Melanius said dismissively. ‘They have no reason to love the Flavians. He cannot afford to move the others because of the threat from the tribes beyond the river who will take advantage of any weakness. No, we will reach Rome before any force can be gathered to stop us and the Senate will open the gates to us and anoint Lucius Calpurnius Piso to the purple.’ He looked each man in the eye with a confident smile. ‘And when that happens there will be estates and honours for all those who stood by him.’

  He looked to Piso for support. The young man returned the smile, but with a twist to his lips that said that once he took his rightful place he’d rather be dragged through the Cloaca Maxima by his heels than have anything to do with these provincial rustics. But that was for later. Enough for now that he acknowledged Melanius with a nod and that Severus and Ferox were too blind to question his sincerity. Though Melanius did face one further hurdle, which he had expected and was prepared for.

  ‘But surely,’ Severus demanded, ‘you cannot expect us to fight in the front rank like common soldiers? Naturally, we are happy to ride at our young prince’s shoulder when the time comes, but experience tells me that in battle or siege it is much better to leave military matters to the professionals.’

  ‘Of course,’ Melanius conceded Severus’s point with grace, ‘but the officers and men of the Sixth need something to follow. They believe they fight under the orders of the government of Asturica Augusta to help put down an insurrection Plinius Secundus does not have the power to defeat. They will require to see their leaders in the vanguard of the column, and that is where we will ride, you and I.’ Melanius smiled at the other man’s discomfort. ‘Ferox will remain in Asturica to ensure production from the mines continues uninterrupted.’

  He turned to the two soldiers. ‘We will muster here in Asturica. Gather your men and supplies and be ready in one week from today. All Hispania will be ours in a month.’

  XLIII

  Valerius and Serpentius made a weary and bedraggled sight as they rode in to Avala with their clothing still stained by the ochre mud of the Red Hills. They’d finally reached the horses after a nightmare trudge through the mud, followed by a two-day semicircular trek across broken country to keep them out of the way of the Parthians. On the second morning Serpentius found a stream where they were able to wash the worst of the clay off their bodies and clean and dry their clothing while they laid up until dark. They travelled in silence, any exhilaration at their unlikely survival long since replaced by a melancholy that both men knew well from the aftermath of battle.

  Their demeanour that morning matched their mood. They’d failed and the hangdog attitude of the reception party who awaited them outside the castro suggested theirs was not the only failure. Tito stood at the head of a group of elders and young men, his face a picture of misery, but it was Julia who drew Valerius’s eyes. She wore bandages on both hands and his heart sank as he recognized the dark stola she wore and understood the reason behind it. It was finished. After a meal and a few hours’ sleep he’d do what Serpentius advised and ride south in search of Pliny. Caeleo, the hunter who had been sent to Legio to deliver Valerius’s report to Marius, the Imperial courier, was among the welcome party and Valerius called him over.

  ‘Were you able to find the young man, Caeleo?’

  ‘Yes, lord.’ A smile creased the goat hunter’s face. ‘It was like you said. He was a-cuddling with this lass in the tavern by the bridge. I took him aside, secret like, and handed him the message. All business he was after that. Lass wasn’t pleased to see him go, tears and wailing and trying to keep him from the saddle, but off he went eventually.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘The day before yesterday, lord. I came straight back.’ He leered. ‘That girl didn’t want no comforting from the likes of old Caeleo.’

  Valerius went over the route from Legio to Tarraco in his head. If Marius used his Imperial warrant to change horses at every government mansio he should reach Pliny by tomorrow morning at the latest. Would Pliny see the urgency of the situation and march north immediately? Valerius had done what he could to highlight the dangers, but with little genuine evidence to back it up. Even if Pliny acted immediately he doubted he’d meet the governor of Hispania Tarraconensis till at least Esca, and perhaps further south.

  He didn’t see Caeleo watching him, or the look of concern that had replaced the smiles. The hunter was a man who lived his life by a certain philosophy. If a shepherd’s flock showed signs of disease, but the shepherd was blind to it, Caeleo would allow him a further few days of cheerfulness rather than be the bearer of bad news. Thus he hadn’t mentioned that when Marius rode out from Legio, the courier had been followed minutes later by four Parthian cavalrymen. Whatever the outcome of this scene, nothing could be done about it now and Caeleo saw no reason to trouble Valerius with something that could only cause him distress. Suddenly he remembered that there was something else he’d been meant to communicate.

  ‘Would your honour be wanting to see your visitor now?’

  ‘Visitor?’ Valerius looked to where Tito and Serpentius were deep in conversation.

  ‘No, lord,’ the goatherd said. ‘He’ll be this way.’

  Valerius followed him through the newly replac
ed gate of Avala to a house that had been one of the first to be renovated after the raid by Harpocration’s Parthians. His puzzlement grew when he noticed the armed guard outside the entrance. A leather curtain covered the doorway and he pulled it aside and ducked through. The smoke hole in the roof allowed in just enough light to make out a hunched figure sitting on a stone bench in the far corner.

  The man looked up and Valerius looked into a face he recognized. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Why would you come here?’

  ‘You’re alive.’ The man ignored the question. ‘They said you were dead. Everyone was certain you were dead. A mine accident.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Valerius persisted.

  ‘I was sent with a message.’

  ‘So?’

  The man darted a glance at the doorway. ‘A certain person asks for a meeting tomorrow at the crossroads mansio south of Legio,’ he whispered. ‘You should have passed it on the way to Asturica …?’

  ‘I know it,’ Valerius said. ‘But why should I meet with this … person? Why should I trust them? After all, just because I survived one accident it doesn’t mean I’ll survive another.’

  ‘My … person understands this. They told me to say that it is in your interest to meet and they sent a token which they said you would recognize.’ He held out his hand and Valerius saw something glittering in the centre of his palm. He knew he was expected to pick it up, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch it.