by James Mace
He then contemplated Agrippina’s reaction to the new circumstances. While Drusus considered Agrippina a friend, the Emperor wondered just how genuine her feelings of friendship were. Would she look to undermine or cause harm to Drusus or Livilla as a means of hurting him? Tiberius could not be sure, but he would make note of it and warn Drusus to watch himself around that vile woman. He did not wish Drusus to cease in his friendship with Agrippina, he would rather he kept her close and under watch.
Plancina was frantically pacing in the atrium of the house where she and her husband were being kept, when the door opened. Livia entered the foyer, her face expressionless. Plancina immediately fell to her knees and clutched at Livia’s stola, weeping uncontrollably.
“Oh, Livia, you’ve got to help me! Agrippina’s friends will not stop condemning my husband. They will kill our son and me as well! Please, you’ve got to help me!” She came to her feet, her face white and her eyes wild; fearful tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Her expression unchanged, Livia backhanded the woman sharply across the face. “Do you really think I will help save anyone who played a part in my own grandson’s death? To say nothing for the sedition and rebellion your wretched family has been the cause of!” she hissed.
Plancina held a hand over her cheek, which was turning red, and shook her head. “No,” she replied, “it wasn’t me, I swear it! I had nothing to do with Germanicus’ murder. Please, you must believe me!”
“Oh, come off it, woman!” Livia scoffed. “Your husband was little more than your whipping dog. He never could make a decision even so simple as how to wipe his own bottom without consulting you! And don’t think I don’t remember the hatred that existed between you and Agrippina well before Germanicus was ever sent to the east. So don’t play so innocent with me, otherwise I’ll come up with the most unpleasant means of disposing of you imaginable. And believe me, my imagination runs deep.”
Plancina fell to her knees again, her hands folded together against her forehead. She ceased in her sobbing, but her body still trembled. “You must believe me,” she pleaded. “Yes, I did hate Agrippina, and I still do. I’ve never denied that. And it seemed like both of them were bent on our family’s downfall. The quarrels between Piso and Germanicus started from the day they arrived. It never ceased. We had to do something, lest our family be ruined!”
“So you resorted to sedition and murder.” It was a statement, not a question.
Plancina shook her head frantically. “No,” she said softly. “If I bore any guilt, I would gladly share the same fate as my husband. I only told him he had to do something about Germanicus. I had no idea he was going to have him murdered and then start an insurrection amongst the legions. I’m amazed we even walked out of that place alive. Piso was a changed man after that. I could no longer speak with him, my influence over him completely evaporated.” She gazed up at Livia, eyes red and puffy, her cheeks tear stained. Again she took hold of Livia’s stola.
“Livia, if you cannot save me, please allow my son to be spared. He truly is innocent in this affair. After all, could a son, even a grown one, really deny his own father? I’m so afraid for him, and I don’t know what else to do.”
“You will compose yourself, woman, and you will do exactly as I tell you,” Livia replied sternly. “You will tell me who committed the act of murder against my grandson. I want names and where they can be found. Furthermore, you will separate yourself from your husband’s defense.”
Plancina nodded and rose to her feet, a fleeting hope glimmering in her eyes. “There was a notorious woman named Martina. She made poisoning people an art form. Her price was quite high. It nearly bankrupted my husband. She’s being offered immunity from the prosecution if she will testify against Piso.”
Livia raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”
Plancina swallowed hard. “She is supposed to be arriving within the next few days. There is a squalid tavern that she plans to stay at. It’s rather inconspicuous and fitting for her type. Oh, Livia, does this mean you intend to help us?” She clutched Livia’s stola, only to have the Empress slap her across the face once again. “I have promised you nothing! You will get no such promises of safe passage from me, vile woman. If you know what is good for you, you will distance yourself from your husband and do exactly as I tell you.” With that, Livia turned and left the room.
Plancina sank into a chair, her hand again on her swollen cheek, her mind in torment. She did not know whether there was any hope for her and her son or not. Their fate lay solely in the hands of Livia, who would dispose of them as she saw fit.
Artorius walked up as the section was checking the contents of their baggage cart. Magnus and Valens were inspecting their tent, making certain there were no holes or signs of rot in the leather. Carbo and Gavius were inventorying the stakes and poles for their tent, while Decimus checked the cart for serviceability with several other soldiers from the century. Four sections would share a cart with which they would load their tents, cooking utensils, as well as most of their rations. Each legionary carried about a week’s worth of hard biscuits which would serve as a supplemental ration in the event of an emergency.
“So would you mind explaining to me just why we’re crossing the Rhine again?” Carbo asked.
“We’re going to have a look and see what are old enemies are up to, if anything,” Artorius replied. “A simple reconnaissance mission, shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to find out what their intentions are.”
“There have also been rumors regarding the demise of Arminius,” Magnus added. “I’m pretty certain Silius is looking to see if we can verify these.”
“That will break a lot of hearts if he is dead,” Gavius added, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “I just think it’s a pity we didn’t get that bastard when we had the chance!”
“But hey, at least our fearless leader here killed that other jackal, Ingiomerus,” Valens remarked. “I mean come on, Artorius, you cannot tell us that wasn’t at least somewhat satisfying!”
Artorius shrugged as he helped Magnus and Valens finish rolling up their tent and hoist it onto the cart. “I didn’t really notice at the time,” he replied. “We were a little bit preoccupied trying to fight our way into that stronghold, and besides, I did not know who he was. I just noticed that he was a lot older than most of the other warriors.” “If I remember right, it was one of the auxiliary troopers that identified him,” Magnus remarked. “Germanicus had them check all the bodies and see if we had netted anyone of importance.”
Carbo and Gavius had finished inventorying their stakes and poles, and set about bundling them up and loading them onto the cart.
Carbo gave an audible sigh. “You know, we haven’t talked much about Germanicus since we received word of his death. You guys cannot tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, though.” Carbo had been thoroughly devoted to his former commander, in spite of the fact that the two had never met personally. “Do you guys remember the night before Idistaviso, when the aquilifer came and had supper with us?” Decimus asked.
“I remember that,” Artorius replied. “I thought it was rather strange, but he seemed like a decent enough fellow.”
“Well, I heard from Camillus that that was not the legion’s aquilifer, but rather it was Germanicus himself. He had decided to disguise himself as such, so that he could gather what he could about our morale and disposition.”
Everyone smiled and nodded at Decimus’ statement, though none were necessarily surprised.
“You know, that actually doesn’t surprise me,” Magnus thought aloud. “What I want to know is, do you just like hanging out at the Principia or what? You always seem to be the first one to find out anything that’s going on.”
Decimus shrugged at the assessment. “Camillus is an old friend of the aquilifer, so we go and see him sometimes. His position gives him a lot of access to information the rest of us will never be privy to, which makes him quite the useful source. He has been keeping
us informed as to all the latest gossip from Rome regarding Piso’s trial.”
“And you didn’t think to share any of this with the rest of us?” Valens asked.
“I know the death of Germanicus is a painful subject for us all,” Decimus answered. “So I’ve kept most of what Camillus has told me to myself.”
“So what did he tell you?” Artorius persisted.
Decimus paused before continuing. “Only that it is getting bad in Rome,” he replied. “All the supporters of Agrippina continue in their assault against the Emperor, blaming him for Germanicus’ death.” “Agrippina, she’s always been a bit of a puzzle to me,” Carbo replied. “You know there were times when it seemed like she had a genuine concern for the lads, and others when she was standoffish and completely self-righteous.”
“I had to deal with her once,” Valens mused. “She seemed to think I was coming on to her.”
Carbo had been taking a drink from his water bladder and, at Valens’ remarks, he spewed water everywhere and started to laugh and cough uncontrollably. “For the love of…why does that not surprise me, Valens?” he asked, completely perplexed. “I don’t even remember what I said,” Valens remarked. “I wasn’t even checking her out. It was her maidservant that had the really cute ass…anyway, Agrippina starts screaming at me, calling me all sorts of foul names. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. Then she chases me out of the room with some sort of club in her hand! Of course, she stopped when one of the tribunes came in and saw the spectacle.”
“You never told us about this!” Carbo said.
“Yeah, well I was a bit embarrassed that I had almost gotten thrashed by a woman. Tribune Pilate was very understanding and promised not to say a word to anyone.”
Artorius just shook his head and continued to load equipment onto their cart. They had all forgotten how they had even gotten on the subject in the first place, which suited Decimus just fine. He decided he would not tell them, just yet, what he had learned about the fate of Martina, the notorious alchemist.
Martina ate greedily from the bowl of figs Livia offered her. The journey had been long and tiring, and she was still recovering from the shock of having been found by Livia’s agents. She had no sooner sat down in the inn’s tavern to eat when she was apprehended by three armed men. They brought her to a private room in the back where Livia sat alone at a table.
“You were a hard one to find,” Livia said wryly with a genial smile.
Martina smiled back. “When one does not wish to be discovered. . .” she left the rest of her reply hanging as she continued to eat. “Do you take much pleasure in your trade?” Livia asked.
Martina only shrugged.
“It’s a job. Somebody has to be there to do the dirty work, I suppose. I’ve been studying medicines and poison most of my life.”
Livia nodded politely. “So tell me,” she said, pouring Martina a goblet of wine, “how was it you came into the employment of the Pisos?” Her interrogation of Plancina was fresh in her mind, and she earnestly wished to know the truth. There was no doubt that Martina had acted as Germanicus’ executioner, there was just the question of at whose bequest.
The portly woman paused in her eating. “From what I gathered, Plancina had been hounding Piso for some time to do something about Germanicus. She was never very committal though.” She took a long drink of wine before continuing. “Piso was beside himself as to what to do. I swear that man could never make up his own mind!” She snorted and helped herself to the bread. “Finally, I guess he decided he’d had enough and sent a servant to come see me. I took the job, of course. Though the price for an imperial prince was quite large, I assured him!”
“I’m sure it almost bankrupted him,” Livia replied with a small laugh. Her demeanor was very pleasant, something that confirmed Martina’s belief that Livia, as well as the Emperor himself, had been plotting Germanicus’ downfall for some time.
Martina cared not for the intricacies of imperial politics. In truth, she found the entire Julio-Claudian family to be rather perverse. When not fighting the world, they were fighting each other!
“So, Plancina played no part in the ordeal, then?” Livia mused, hoping Martina would take the bait.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied, and paused thoughtfully. “For once she was the one who was ambiguous as to what should be done. She knew by incurring Germanicus’ ill will her husband was in jeopardy, not to mention Agrippina - she’s quite the vindictive one! I almost wish they had asked me to do her as well. I probably would have done it for free.”
The pleasant smile on Livia’s face was no longer pleasant as Martina suddenly felt a stabbing pain in her belly.
“Oh, I must have eaten too fast!” she said with a short, unconvincing laugh. She began to feel hot and sticky. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She looked at Livia in alarm.
The Empress’ demeanor was no longer pleasant. “You underestimated the Julio-Claudians. You really did,” Livia said, almost conversationally. “You obviously believe the slander and thought I could have been so ruthless as to have had a hand in the murder of my own blood? You are an abomination!”
Martina was suddenly in a panic. Her stomach was turning in knots, and she was starting to feel dizzy. She went to reach for Livia, only to find that her hand was trembling badly and refused to function properly.
Martina might have been little more than a peasant, but she was not stupid and realized why Livia arranged their ’meeting’. She tried to stand, but found her body was already too weak to support her bulk, and she fell ungracefully on the floor.
“What is going to happen to me?” she asked, her eyes wide with panic.
Livia stood over her. “You should know. It’s what you gave Germanicus.” Her voice was icy as she continued. “I know history and slanderers will forever damn me, finding some way to connect me to his death. But my own conscience is clear, knowing that, in my little way, I avenged my grandson.” Martina could only stare in terror, her mouth gaping like a fish. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest felt like it was in a vice. The pain in her belly spread through her body. In her fading vision, she saw a man standing over her. Everything else around her had turned to black, but he stood out clearly. The man was dressed as a legionary legate, eyes were full of wrath, his sword drawn. She knew his face, and it terrified her.
He’s come for me! She thought, as what remained of her breathing came in short rasps. No longer could she speak, and all she could see was the form of the man seeking his revenge on her.
Livia walked over to the door and gave it a short rap. A man wearing a legionary tunic, sword belt, and cloak walked in and bowed.
“My friend seems to have fallen ill,” Livia said, looking at Martina’s body with mock concern. “Be so kind to see to it she is taken care of.” With that she swept out of the room.
“Yes, Lady,” he replied.
Chapter IV: Return to Germania
***
Ietano swallowed hard when he received word that Roman soldiers were approaching. It had been four years since he had seen a Roman. He had been wounded at Idistaviso and arrived at the Angrivarii stronghold in time to watch the Romans destroy it. He claimed Bructeri heritage, even though he was a Cherusci by blood and tried to put the scourge placed on the disgraced and decimated Cherusci in the past. Being one of Arminius’ closest confidants brought him much in the way of glory and honor. He’d since become chief of a small tribe of scattered Cherusci.
“How many?” he asked the young warrior who was trying to catch his breath after running a great distance to give Ietano the news.
“It appears to be a single cohort,” he answered.
Strange, Ietano thought, a single cohort moving on its own? Either the Romans had become confidant to the point of being almost arrogant since their victory, or they were laying a trap to provoke war once again.
Ietano took a deep breath. “Summon the village elders,” he ordered. “We will see what these
Romans want. Rest assured if an entire cohort is moving our way, there are more.”
A small gathering of the tribe leaders and warriors made their way towards the approaching legionaries.
As they walked through the thick woods and came upon a large clearing, Ietano was impressed with the way the soldiers moved in step with one another, their red and gold shields close together, javelins protruding forward. They wore the standard armor of segmented plates, which caught the glint of the sun. Eight men marched abreast in the columns. At the head was a soldier bearing the cohort’s standard, and another that was unmistakably the centurion pilus prior. His armor was adorned with his medals and decorations, setting him apart from the other soldiers, as well as the transverse crest that adorned the top of his helmet.
“Cohort…halt!” Proculus shouted.
Artorius’ section was directly behind Proculus in the front rank. He gazed with distain at the small gathering that arrived to meet them. It was a group of ten men, mostly elderly.
Artorius’ mind briefly drifted back to a time of horrendous battles. He had been decorated for valor, having personally killed War Chief Ingiomerus, the uncle of Arminius. Though openly docile, the men who came to parlay with the Romans exuded a tension-filled air of hate. Their clansmen may have died by the thousands, but those who survived lost none of their will to fight, nor their lust for glory. Artorius snorted at the notion. He had found honor in serving as a soldier of Rome, but not the elusive “glory” that supposedly accompanied it. To him, glory was just a word one used to compel men to perform as one’s puppets. Julius Caesar had often spoken of it, and yet what of the men who executed the horrific tasks he had set them to? Was their glory for them? Perhaps, but it was fleeting at best.
