Avenger of Rome (Gaius Valerius Verrens 3)

by Douglas Jackson

  A sniff from the corner seemed to signify that Domitia held a different opinion. Valerius felt the dark eyes on him and wondered why she was here. Had her father arranged it to keep him off balance and increase his humiliation? Or was he simply indulging his daughter? The latter seemed unlikely, and perhaps it was neither, but Valerius still felt he was caught in a trap.

  Corbulo glared in the direction of his daughter. ‘They seek to protect me. Would you have them do otherwise? They look at Gaius Valerius Verrens and see a traitor in their midst.’

  So it was out. Corbulo was aware of his mission and didn’t care if he knew it. In some ways that made it simpler. ‘I am no traitor. I was asked to prepare a report, nothing more.’

  ‘A spy then?’

  The hackles rose on Valerius’s neck, but Corbulo raised a hand before he could reply.

  ‘From my daughter, and from certain other sources, I have been given some notion of the manner of man I am dealing with. Unless I am mistaken, or misinformed, he is a man of honour. The fact that you have undoubtedly been proved in battle is of little significance. I have known brave men of little judgement and some of no judgement at all. On the other hand, when faced with pirates, shipwreck and mutiny, you conducted yourself with intelligence and imagination. I sense that you are not a man to be swayed by either blandishment or threat, and that is what has brought me to my decision.’ The grey eyes brightened. Was there a mocking challenge in them? ‘You will investigate where you will, with my sanction, and when you have done so you will make your report. Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo has nothing to hide and nothing to fear. Of course, while you are spying on my staff, my spies will be spying on you. You would expect nothing else, I’m sure?’

  Valerius tried to hide his surprise. At best, he had expected to be banished to some remote outpost, and there had always been the possibility that he might conveniently disappear in a desert ambush. Again, there was that surprising sense of support from the silent presence behind him. Corbulo continued.

  ‘The one stipulation I make is that, in the meantime, you serve under my command in any way I see fit. Do not thank me. I assure you it will be arduous, difficult duty and the manner of it may not suit you. I grant that you have fought and by all accounts fought well.’ He glanced at Valerius’s wooden fist. ‘But you have no experience of campaigning in the east. You will find that having one hand is a greater handicap against the Parthians than against your Celtic queen. A man who has faced barbarian chariots and spearmen is of little use against mounted archers who sting like hornets and then fly off to fight another day. They have a habit of eating the young, inexperienced officers they capture for breakfast.’

  Corbulo continued to regard him with an unblinking stare, but a soft miaow broke the silence and the governor failed to suppress a rueful smile. Clearly his notorious attitude to discipline didn’t extend to his youngest daughter – or her cat. The general picked up his stylus and rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingers. ‘Very well. Domitia, I believe the kitchen servants require your supervision.’

  There was no hint of argument against the obvious dismissal, only a soft rustle of silk and the scent of perfumed oils before Valerius felt her presence beside him.

  ‘I am glad to see you well, tribune.’

  Her voice was lower and huskier than he remembered. Valerius turned and felt the familiar flutter as he looked into eyes the colour of polished walnuts.

  ‘My lady,’ he bowed. ‘I thank you for your kind words and your good opinion.’

  ‘Oh, I think I am in a better position to judge my saviour’s character than a few wrinkled old generals,’ she said, ignoring her father’s growl of disapproval. ‘Come, Puss Puss.’ She walked out followed by the fluffy white kitten.

  The general’s expression softened. ‘My daughter tells me that you saved her life … and her virtue?’

  Once more, and from an entirely unexpected angle, Valerius felt the point of a dagger tickling his spine. ‘The general’s daughter is a lady of great character and fortitude and a credit to her father,’ he said carefully. ‘She withstood pirate attack, shipwreck, mutiny, thirst and fire without a single word of complaint. If anything she was strongest of us all.’

  Corbulo nodded absently. ‘And you were together for how long?’

  How long? A lifetime. Valerius understood that the general felt the conversation had to take place and the questions had to be asked, but the room suddenly felt more dangerous than the slippery, blood-soaked boards of the pirate galley. ‘I believe it was six days between the wreck and the morning General Vespasian’s son came to our rescue. We had run out of water and I doubt we would have been alive an hour later.’

  ‘She speaks very highly of you.’

  ‘I did my duty and nothing more.’ Valerius kept his voice steady and tried to think of anything but the night beneath the cloak. He had a moment of inspiration. ‘I would commend the name of Tiberius Claudius Crescens to the general. Tribune Crescens is a remarkably resourceful young man. He rode close to sixty miles through the desert for help.’

  The general nodded again. ‘Very well, I will interview him later. In the meantime, I plan to convene a strategy conference with the officers you met below. You are aware of our situation?’

  ‘General Vespasian was kind enough to brief me.’

  ‘Good. That will save time. You will take up your position immediately. Your predecessor, Tiberius Alexander, was a good man; he will have left everything in order.’

  ‘He must have been popular,’ Valerius risked the rueful suggestion. ‘His comrades do not appreciate the arrival of his replacement.’

  Corbulo laughed. ‘It’s not your arrival they do not appreciate, tribune, or even the fact that they think you are a spy. It is because they think you are here to kill me.’

  XXII

  ‘GENERAL GAIUS LICINIUS Mucianus, legate of Sixth Ferrata.’ Corbulo introduced the handsome aristocrat who had insulted Valerius on the balcony. The sneer remained in place and the long nose twitched as if it had smelled something distasteful. ‘Marcus Ulpius Traianus, Tenth Fretensis.’ Traianus was younger than his fellow commander, fine-boned and heavy-lipped with piercing blue eyes. ‘Aurelius Fulvus, commanding Third Gallica, and Gaius Pompeius Collega, Fifteenth Apollinaris.’ The two men nodded and Collega, who had not been at the earlier conference, gave Valerius an uneasy smile of welcome. Only one other man remained in the room after Corbulo’s aides had set out an enormous table with a series of overlapping maps, and the general presented him warmly as his camp prefect and quartermaster, Casperius Niger. Niger had dark hair shot with grey and the swarthy complexion and uncompromising features of a native easterner, but he was clearly one of Corbulo’s most trusted members of staff.

  Tension filled the room like a fog, mixed with that peculiar suppressed excitement and anticipation Valerius remembered from the conference where the Colonia militia had received their orders for the defence against Boudicca.

  Corbulo stood hunched over the table, his eyes taking in every detail of the maps. This was ground he had covered many times, but he understood the traps and pitfalls that awaited him among the treacherous river valleys and the barren mountains, the dusty plains and featureless deserts. His commanders knew the situation well enough, but General Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo was Rome’s greatest general because he considered every detail and his watchword was preparation. The first few minutes were a mirror of the summary Valerius had received from Vespasian. The situation in Judaea was worsening, the rebel strength and confidence increasing with every day the Romans failed to avenge the defeats suffered by Vespasian’s predecessors.

  ‘General Vespasian has almost completed his preparations in Egypt and he will begin shipping his main force to Ptolemais, here on the Judaean border, north of Galilee where the largest concentration of rebel forces is believed to be, while his cavalry carries out diversionary operations in the area between Ashkelon and the Dead Sea.’ Valerius nodded. That explained Titus’s mission i
nto the desert. Corbulo’s voice changed and Valerius caught a hint of irritation. ‘I have orders to consolidate my position in Syria, while giving as much support as can be spared to Vespasian. To this end Sixth Ferrata, Third Gallica and their associated auxiliary units will march south from their positions at Zeugma and Cyrrhus to prepare defensive positions and stockpile supplies for sixty thousand men.’

  Mucianus frowned. ‘It will take all our reserves and I will have to strip every town and village between Antioch and Damascus.’

  Corbulo fixed him with that steady gaze. ‘Nevertheless it must be done. I have already sent to Sergiopolis and Palmyra to have their stores of grain, oil and wine moved to Damascus. I see no reason why it should not be waiting for you when you arrive there. Any shortfall will be made up by a special requisition from Cappadocia and Egypt.’

  ‘If we withdraw entirely from Zeugma and Cyrrhus it will leave the main crossing of the Euphrates undefended and the road to Antioch open,’ Collega pointed out. ‘If you are wrong, the Parthians will be able to outflank our eastern defence line and Syria will be at their mercy.’

  The other three legates looked at him and Valerius realized this was what they had been discussing during the afternoon.

  Corbulo ushered his commanders closer around the map and motioned to Valerius to join them.

  ‘I have recently received word from our spies in Parthia that King Vologases has sent out a call to raise a force of seventy thousand men – heavy cavalry, slingers, spearmen and mounted archers – and is preparing to march north from his capital on the Tigris,’ he said solemnly. ‘There can be only one reason for this. He means to take advantage of the rebellion in Judaea and the fact of his brother’s absence from Armenia to retake control of that country. I cannot allow that.’

  Again the four turned to their general, three of them nodding, but Collega’s broad face showed consternation. ‘Without two of your four legions and with explicit orders from the Palatium in Rome to consolidate your position I do not understand how you intend to stop him.’

  Corbulo gave him a look teachers reserve for their slowest pupils, but Collega stood his ground and returned the stare.

  ‘It is late in the season and he must move quickly if he is to force the mountain passes before the first snows,’ the governor explained patiently. ‘He cannot delay because he knows that Tiridates will return in the spring carrying Rome’s blessing. The Armenian council will unite behind their king and the opportunity will be gone. The last report from our agents shows him still in Ctesiphon.’ Corbulo used a centurion’s vine rod to indicate a position in the centre of the map table close to a winding blue line Valerius calculated must be the Tigris river. ‘Which means that even if he has already marched he cannot be any further than this position today.’ The tip of the vine rod moved north. ‘I think there is no doubt that he intends to reconquer the land his brother has negotiated away by first taking Tigranocerta, the fortress city which guards the only road north, and then turning northeast by the Sea of Van to reach the capital Artaxata. This is how I will stop him.’ He used the vine rod as a measure to indicate the distance between Antioch and Tigranocerta, then between Vologases’ army and the city. When it was done his face broke into a savage grin that revealed Corbulo the warrior. ‘We will have at least six days’ march on him. I intend to consolidate my position by garrisoning the fort at Zeugma and the Euphrates crossing with a vexillation of three cohorts from the Fifteenth Apollinaris and a mixed cavalry and infantry force of Cappadocian auxiliaries. Then I will march the Tenth Fretensis and the bulk of the Fifteenth to … here, north of Gazarta, where I will intercept my enemy and defeat him.’ He looked around the room, the pale eyes daring any man to contradict him.

  Valerius was stunned by the audacity of the plan, and more so by the fact that Corbulo was offering his head on a plate to his enemies. He remembered Vespasian’s warning. Did he want to be liked or valued? He opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘With the greatest of respect, general,’ Collega’s voice shook slightly as he interrupted. ‘To take such a course of action would be at best risking your command, at worst …’ He faded away as if his tongue was unwilling to speak the word they were all thinking. ‘You intend to meet a force of seventy thousand Parthians with a Roman one of not much more than twenty thousand. This is a campaign which warrants months of preparation, yet you give us only days. Victory is far from certain; defeat would leave Syria open to King Vologases’ army and risk the loss of the entire Roman east. Vespasian would be trapped between a victorious Parthian army and the Judaean rebels, who have already proved they can be a match for a Roman legion. I beg you to reconsider.’

  Valerius came to attention, bringing a glare from Corbulo and a look of hatred from Mucianus that almost stopped his tongue.

  ‘I must agree with General Collega. In my opinion you would be risking too much for too little. Even meeting such a formidable army on favourable terms would be dangerous. To meet them with such a weak force seems …’

  ‘Madness?’ Corbulo’s arid voice completed the sentence for him.

  Mucianus pushed his way round the table to face Valerius. ‘So, the Palatine’s spy shows his true colours and becomes an expert in eastern warfare in the same instant. What does a mere tribune know of grand strategy? We have been fighting these barbarians since you were issued your first caligae, soldier, and thanks to this man whose reputation you have the audacity to demean we have defeated them every time we have met them.’

  ‘I am not …’

  ‘Let us not fight among ourselves when the enemy may already be on the march.’ Corbulo stepped in front of Mucianus, and turned to Valerius and Collega. ‘Everything you say is true. No one knows better than I what we risk by this strategy. Yet I believe there is no other way. May I explain?’ Collega bowed and stepped back from the table. ‘My good friend General Mucianus is correct that we have been facing the Parthians and their Armenian allies for more years than I care to remember. No matter how many times we defeated them, no matter how strong the defences we put in place along the Euphrates, they were always a threat to Syria, and, by extension, to Asia and the east. Until now. I know Tiridates. He is not his brother. He would rather hold what he has than risk everything again. With Tiridates on the throne there is an opportunity for lasting peace. But he must be allowed to take that throne and rule with Rome’s blessing. If we stand back and allow Vologases to invade Armenia we will be in danger of throwing away everything we have won, everything Roman soldiers have fought and died for in those gods-cursed mountains for twelve long years. Armenia will become a Parthian state, and our weakened condition ensures that Vologases will have the leisure to consolidate his rule. I will not let that happen.’

  Corbulo straightened and his voice took on a power that mesmerized every man in the room. ‘Once before, I stood on the banks of a river and obeyed a command not to cross. That river was the Rhenus and the command came from my Emperor, Divine Claudius. The German tribes were in disarray and at each other’s throats. They were ripe for defeat. We had an opportunity to smash their power for a dozen generations, to emasculate them and enslave their warriors. To extend Rome’s rule as far as Germanicus, who died in this very city, dreamed. But I turned back, and what has happened? We have had to fight each and every day since to keep what is ours. Thousands of brave men have died, and worse, our timidity has encouraged the tribes of the east to test themselves against us not just on the Rhenus, but also on the Danuvius. None of this would have happened if I had had the courage to do what was right.’

  ‘But the Emperor …’ Collega said.

  ‘The Emperor and his advisers must do as they see fit, just as Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo will.’ Corbulo slapped the table, indicating that the time for argument was over. ‘Now, to the details. We will march in two days. General Mucianus will rule Syria while I am beyond the frontier. You, Gaius Collega, will hold the bridge at Zeugma.’

  As the next hour unfolded, Valerius was astonishe
d at Corbulo’s grasp of every aspect of warfare. He outlined the timings, routes of march and even rations per man for each of the legions involved to Casperius Niger, who took notes as Corbulo rapped out a string of commands.

  ‘And finally to the mounted element of the main force. As we know from long experience our cavalry is the key element in any combat with Parthian forces. Parthian mounted archers are among the best in the world. We have been relearning that lesson ever since Crassus was taught it so painfully at Carrhae.’ The other generals murmured agreement and Valerius understood that the threat must be very real. ‘Once we are in the hills, they will attempt to divide us using hit and run attacks from ambush and weakening us in a thousand pointless skirmishes. Anything but meet us in a full-scale battle. But time is my enemy’s enemy. Parthia is a fractious state and the bulk of its army is drawn from those of a hundred different warlords. Vologases knows that he cannot stray from home for long or he will return to find another man on his throne. If we can convince his soldiers that they only have death to look forward to and not plunder, they will start thinking about home, hearth and wife. The legions which march to meet Vologases will be accompanied by three regiments of mixed cavalry, six alae of Numidian light cavalry and eight of mounted archers from Syria, Thracia, Cappadocia and Phrygia. A force of close to ten thousand men. Gaius Valerius Verrens will command that force.’

  For a moment, the room went very still and Valerius would swear the birds stopped singing in the trees outside the window.

  Mucianus, predictably, was the first to find his voice. ‘You would place your fate in the hands of this untested puppy,’ he spluttered.

  ‘Hardly untested, and the puppy has teeth.’ Corbulo smiled. ‘Valerius Verrens is a Hero of Rome, holder of the Gold Crown of Valour, last survivor of the Temple of Claudius in Colonia and scourge of the rebel Queen Boudicca. You have commanded mounted troops?’