"No," Agricola replied.
"So why me?" Corbulo said angrily, "You could send a hundred men to Hibernia to look for Quintus. Why pick on me?"
"Yes I could do that," Agricola replied, "but you are his friend, his blood brother. If I sent a hundred men he would run and hide. But he trusts you. You are his friend after all. He has no reason to suspect you. Your friendship will allow you to get close and fulfil your mission."
"Quintus is not to be harmed," Corbulo said quickly, "If I can find him and persuade him to come back with me, he is not to be harmed."
Agricola shook his head. "I cannot make any promises," he replied.
"You are an arsehole, you know that, a complete dick," Corbulo grunted.
"I don't give a shit," Agricola retorted. "You are going to bring Quintus and my letter to me and don't think about playing games Corbulo. The Procurator has no army and Domitian is far away in Rome. You would do well to side with us. I advise you to choose your friends carefully."
Corbulo raised two fingers in the air. "Shove these up your arse," he snapped. "If anything happens to my son's family I will be coming for you Sir. There won't be a place in this world where you can hide from me."
"Just do your job," Agricola sneered, "You have a month. I will be waiting for you here at Deva." Agricola glanced at his longhaired companion. The man had remained silent throughout and was watching Corbulo with barely concealed contempt.
"This here is Tuathal Techtmar son of the deposed High King of Hibernia," Agricola growled. "He and his men are accompanying the expedition to Hibernia. Once you are ashore, you can come to him for anything you need. I am his patron. He is my man, understood."
Corbulo turned to stare at Tuathal and took an instinctive dislike to the man. There was something untrustworthy in the man's demeanour.
"That's right," Tuathal said in his strange Celtic accent, "But when we take Tara I shall be the new High King and you boy, should you need anything, will go down on your knees before asking for it."
***
His damp freshly washed clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin as he swayed down the street towards the river and harbour front. Corbulo however did not feel the damp cloth. There was a pained, sombre expression on his face. The western part of Deva, between the Legionary fortress and the river was heavily urbanised and the thatched homes had been packed closely together. He pushed his way through the throng of people coming up from the quays along the river oblivious to the advertising cries of the merchants, the haggling women, screaming babies and barking dogs. To his right he caught a glimpse of the small circular wooden amphitheatre where as a soldier he had spent so much time and money gambling on the cock fights but now as he passed by he hardly gave the place a second glance.
The cruel dilemma he faced was weighing on him. Agricola was forcing him to choose between his family and his friend. Quintus however was not a just a friend, he was a blood brother. The two of them had known each other since their first days with the Twentieth, over twenty-five years ago. They had shared an assault boat at Mona where Corbulo had saved his younger friends life and they had stood together in the line during the decisive battle against the Barbarian Queen. The comradeship between Brothers in Arms sometimes ran deeper than that between a man and his wife or a man and his family. In his time Corbulo had known many soldiers who had chosen to be buried with their comrades rather than with their own families. He sighed and glanced up at the sky. Grey rain clouds had appeared in the west. No, he could not betray Quintus's trust, he knew it in his heart, they had been through too much together. Corbulo emitted a little painful moan. But neither could he betray Marcus. He had already caused his son too much grief. The beatings he'd subjected Marcus too when he was younger and the way he'd treated his first wife had rent father and son apart for over three years. He had only just managed to restore that friendship and trust. No, he could not and would not be responsible for the death of Marcus's woman and baby son. If Marcus ever found out he would never want anything more to do with his father.
He started down the steep slope towards the waterfront and as he did so he gasped as he caught sight of the ships of all sizes that lay anchored along the river. There had to be over a hundred vessels. He stopped to stare at the galleys. Here then was the invasion fleet that would take Roman arms to Hibernia. As he approached the quayside he could see that the harbour was full of activity. Soldiers, sailors, labourers and slaves were everywhere loading supplies and horses onto the ships. Officers and captains were supervising the loading and the whole harbour area was filled with voices, shouts, curses and commands. As he stood staring at the scene Corbulo's shoulders slumped. The invasion was going to take place and he had no choice but to accompany it. An overwhelming feeling of hopelessness came over him. Soon he would have to act and if Quintus refused to return with him or hand over the letter he would be forced to choose between a blood brother and family. He felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. Had it really come to this? Would he really have to force Quintus to return with him or worse kill him if he refused to go? How could he do such a thing? What wicked fate had made him face such a dilemma?
***
Corbulo had never been inside the military HQ of the Legionary fortress. The strange newly built elliptical stone building that he had noticed that morning was large, beautifully constructed and spacious and as he followed the guards inside the noise of his boots on the floor echoed off the walls. The high ceiling of the central hall rested on two intersecting arches and in the centre of the hall were twelve alcoves containing stone images of Roman gods. A small group of men were waiting for him. Corbulo recognised Agricola and Governor Lucullus at once. Tuathal the pale-faced Hibernian Prince was standing beside his patron and another man, a stern grey haired officer of around fifty was at the Governor's side. From his armour and fine arms bands and rings Corbulo could tell that the man hailed from a wealthy family.
Lucullus was the first to speak. The Governor of Britannia was overweight and seemed to be trying to conceal the fact by wearing a large white toga. He gave Corbulo a terse examination.
"So you are the man who has caused me all this trouble?" he muttered. "Well do you have my letters?"
Corbulo said nothing as he handed over the five scrolls. The Governor took them eagerly and quickly examined each one. When he was satisfied he slipped the letters into the folds of his toga and shook his head.
"You could have avoided all of this unpleasantness," he said with a hint of irritation. He glanced across at Agricola. "I have however been informed that you served the Twentieth well, that you were a good and loyal soldier, so I am prepared to pardon you and your family and those Christian children whom you helped escape from Londinium. I personally have nothing against Christians but when a man's confidence is betrayed he must be harsh. I cannot be weak; if the people think that I am weak the whole province will explode into rebellion."
Corbulo was staring at the Governor.
"The money, the children were promised compensation," he said quietly.
Lucullus sighed, raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A few moments later a slave appeared holding a bag. He handed it to Corbulo who undid the leather bindings and peered inside.
"It's all there, you don't have to count it," the Governor said in annoyed voice.
Corbulo stared at the coins glinting at him from inside the bag. It was poor compensation for what the children had lost but it was better than nothing. He closed the bag and fastened the bindings.
The Governor was watching him as he looked up.
"So now that we have concluded our business," the Governor hissed pointing a finger at Corbulo, "I never want to see you again."
And with that Lucullus turned on his heel and strode away. Corbulo watched him leave. Then slowly he turned to Agricola and as he did so he shook his head.
"You are such a fucking prick," he said quietly.
Agricola's face seemed set in granite but it was Tuathal who spoke first. The
Hibernian prince took a step towards Corbulo and with a speed that caught him by surprise he rammed his fist into Corbulo's stomach. Corbulo collapsed onto his knees in a moan of agony.
"Don't you ever talk to my patron like that again," Tuathal snarled, "By the gods, boy, when I reach Tara I am going to have your friend Quintus torn to pieces by my dogs if he doesn't reveal what happened to that letter."
Corbulo groaned as he clutched at his stomach. Tuathal raised his hand to strike Corbulo over the head.
"That's enough," the grey haired officer barked suddenly and the authority in his voice was enough to make Tuathal hesitate. On the ground Corbulo gasped and managed to stagger back up onto his feet.
"So you are the useless mouth that my friend Agricola here has lumped me with," the officer said glaring at Corbulo with a stern expression.
Corbulo groaned and gritted his teeth.
"Who the fuck are you?" he gasped.
"My name is Trebonius, Lucius, Metellus Trebonius, I am the Legate of the Twentieth and commander of the battle group that will shortly be sailing for Hibernia and you will address me as Sir," the officer said sharply. "As of now you are back in the army and subject to military discipline."
Then the grey haired officer leaned forwards and peered at Corbulo.
"Do I know you?" he said in an exasperated voice. "You look vaguely familiar."
Corbulo took a deep breath and massaged his stomach.
"Perhaps you saw my hairy arse in the line when we defeated the Barbarian Queen," he muttered, "I served the Twentieth for twenty five years Sir, third Cohort, Julius's century. I was the watch commander."
A look of grudging respect briefly appeared in Trebonius's eyes. Then the Legate looked away.
"So you were there on that day. So was I," he replied.
Chapter Nineteen - The Battle Group Trebonius
The harbour was packed with soldiers. Long queues of heavily laden Legionaries were embarking onto the troop transports. The men stood in single files weighed down by their armour, helmet, weapons, rations, supplies and personal kit as they waited patiently for their turn to board the ships. The soldiers had placed their large red rectangular shields against their legs and their Pilum's, throwing spears had been strapped to their back and each man was clutching two, six feet long, wooden stakes that had been sharpened at the end. The Legionaries were quiet and there seemed to be no appetite for the marching songs, which they had so lustily sung when the Twentieth had come marching into Deva Victrix a few days earlier. Beside the galleys the Legionary officers clustered together in small groups watching the embarkation. Further along the water front Corbulo could hear the shouts and nervous neighing of the cavalry horses as they were led onto the transports, one horse at a time. The journey across the sea towards a hostile coast seemed to be weighing on everyone's mind. Beyond the lines of Roman Legionaries a queue of Syrian archers were boarding their galleys. The Syrians too were each clutching two sharpened wooden stakes and they had slung their bows and quivers over their shoulders. They were small men with olive coloured skin and black hair and they seemed to be keeping themselves to themselves. Corbulo peered at them keenly. These then had to be the men belonging to the First Cohort of Hamian Archers. Corbulo had never heard of this auxiliary unit before but the Legate's staff officers had told him that the Hamians were amongst the finest bowmen in the Empire and that they had only arrived in Britannia from their home province of Syria a few months ago.
Corbulo pushed his way through the throngs of Roman soldiers towards the section of quayside that had been reserved for the Second Batavian Cohort. Five large troop transports lay at anchor in the river, one next to the other, as if they were building a bridge across the Dee. The Batavians were shuffling onto the ships across the narrow deck planks that had been laid out in between the galleys. The sailors and rowers onboard the vessels were leaning over the sides of their ships watching the embarkation. Corbulo caught sight of a small group of Batavian officers and veered towards them. He recognised the commanding officer from his uniform and helmet.
"Sir," Corbulo said snapping out a quick salute, "I am looking for one of your Decurion's. His name is Marcus; he's got red hair. Do you know where I can find him?"
The Prefect of the Second Batavians was a tall thin man with a white scarf tied around his neck to stop his armour from chafing. He glanced at Corbulo and nodded.
"He's over there making sure those sailors don't mishandle my horses," the officer replied gesturing in the direction of the horse transports.
Corbulo saluted and strode away in the direction that the officer was pointing. He didn't have much time. Trebonius, the battle group commander had ordered his staff not to leave their galley but Corbulo had slipped ashore nevertheless. He had to see Marcus before they sailed. The Second Batavians had only arrived at Deva yesterday and there had been simply no time to see his son. He glanced up at the sky as he pushed his way through the queues of soldiers. It was an hour or so after dawn and a gentle breeze was coming up from the south. The four hundred and fifty or so cavalry mounts had been herded together into a makeshift pen with wooden fences. Slaves were leading the animals by their harnesses over the deck planks and onto the transports. Clumps of horse shit lay everywhere. The horses were nervous and a group of Batavians were trying their best to calm the beasts down. They were talking to them in their guttural native Germanic language and amongst them was Marcus.
"Decurion?" Corbulo said snapping out another salute.
Marcus turned, saw him and frowned.
"Father," Marcus said stiffly as he came towards him. "What are you doing here? Why are you in armour?"
Corbulo managed a little smile and the two men embraced briefly and awkwardly.
"Well believe it or not I am back in the army," Corbulo said looking away, "Agricola has managed to get me a position on the Legate's staff. So I am going with you to Hibernia. How about that son?"
Marcus shook his head. He looked exhausted and worn out and his face was blackened and covered in dust and grime.
"Why does Agricola want you to go to Hibernia?" Marcus said sharply.
Corbulo waved the question away. "Fuck knows," he murmured. "But I am sailing with the HQ Company." Corbulo paused and then patted Marcus affectionately on the shoulder. "Just wanted to see you before we sail. Is everything allright? The men seem to be in good shape and spirits?"
Marcus turned to glance at the horses.
"No, things are not allright," he said tensely. "After you left, something terrible happened. My woman and Fergus have vanished. I have looked for them everywhere. I don't know what has happened to them." Marcus turned to look at his father with a worried and worn out look. "How can they just vanish like that? I asked nearly everyone in Luguvalium, but no one knows anything." Marcus took a deep breath. "My woman, she is not the kind that will simply leave without saying anything. No, something has happened to her. I should be out looking for her but now I am on my way to fucking Hibernia. That miserable island is the very last place that I want to go to."
Corbulo lowered his eyes and sighed.
"That's bad fortune, son," he murmured, "bad fortune but you will find her and your son. You know how women can be? She probably needs some time on her own. They can go a bit crazy after giving birth."
Marcus fixed Corbulo with an angry look.
"So you are an expert on women now are you," Marcus retorted. "No, I think someone has taken her and Fergus, I really do."
Corbulo scratched his cheek and glanced at the horses.
"You will find them both," he muttered, "I shall offer a prayer to the gods tonight for their safe return. I suggest that you do the same."
Moodily Marcus looked away. Then at last he nodded.
Corbulo was about to say something else when the harbour was shaken by a great trumpeting roar. Everyone turned to look in the direction from which the bellowing roar had come and there, striding down the steep slope from the Legionary fortress, surrounded by a
gaggle of armed attendants, was a solitary elephant. As Corbulo and Marcus stared at the big grey beast, the elephant lifted its trunk high into the air and shook its massive ears and bellowed again.
"What is that doing here?" Corbulo exclaimed.
"We are taking it with us to Hibernia," Marcus said tersely," the officers think that the beast is going to scare the shit out of the Hibernians. It's pretty certain that they will never have seen such an animal. They will probably think it's a god."
Corbulo stared at the elephant for a moment longer. Then he turned and gripped Marcus by the shoulder and managed a faint smile.
"I will see you Hibernia," he said.
***
The prow of the Neptune rose and crashed back down into the waves as the galley ploughed through the choppy sea. The southern breeze had picked up during the course of the morning and now it filled the ship’s sails until they were bulging and straining at their moorings. The ship creaked and groaned as the captain kept her heading due west. Corbulo stood beside the mast gripping it tightly with one hand. He took a deep breath as he steadied himself for the next pitching roll. Gods he hated ships and the sea. It was not a natural environment for a man, especially a Legionary laden down by eighty-five pounds of equipment. The sentiment seemed to be shared by most of the officers and men in the HQ company who stood crammed together on the deck with nowhere else to go. The stiff breeze could not extinguish the smell from the dozens of men who were being seasick. The crests of the waves were white and now and then a large rogue wave would slam into the galley sending a blast of freezing seawater cascading onto the deck. The galley's captain had ordered the oars to be brought inside the ship and the rowers were sitting and lying about on their benches chatting, eating and sleeping.
To either side of the Neptune the invasion fleet of over a hundred galleys, warships, troop transports, horse transports and supply ships had formed into three neat lines, one following the other. There was no sign of land and the skies were grey and overcast. Corbulo stared at the ships and their white bulging sails as they pitched and rose through the waves and despite his discomfort he felt a stirring of pride and admiration. Agricola had dreamed of invading Hibernia but had never managed it but now that long planned invasion was about to become a reality. Corbulo had attended the final council of war in Deva before they had sailed and had heard Agricola warn the assembled officers about the Hibernian High King Elim and his fierce hatred of Rome. Elim too had a personal grudge against Agricola for it was under his Governorship that the son of the deposed High King, Tuathal Techtmar had been granted Roman protection and the first plans to invade Hibernia had been drafted. Elim will defend his land and people with all his might and cunning Agricola had warned the officers. Do not underestimate him. He is a formidable warrior who loves to wage war by trickery, ambushes and ruses. Be on your guard. Nothing is what it seems in the land of mist and rain. From the staff officers Corbulo had learned that the battle group had been formed around a vexillatio from the Twentieth Legion consisting of the first and sixth Cohorts, thirteen hundred and fifty Legionaries plus the Legion's entire cavalry force of one hundred and twenty men. To this had been added the Second Batavian's, two hundred Hamian archers, a HQ company consisting of the Legate's staff, engineers and artillery, one elephant and eight hundred Hibernians and mercenaries loyal to prince Tuathal. The whole force consisted of around three and half thousand men.
Hibernia (Veteran of Rome Book 2) Page 16
