by Miller, Ian
"That's . . ." Cinna started, then seemed to realize this position was more delicate than he had imagined. "What are you going to do?"
"I am going to honour my vow to the Princeps," Gaius shrugged. "My eagles go nowhere except to Lussonium, and I hope you will join me."
"Not quite!" Cinna said with a serious tone, then he smiled at Gaius' look of horror and added, "I was ordered by Scribonianus to follow you, but frankly, I don't see the need for me to go to Lussonium too. My eagles stay stuck right here."
"Good!" a relieved Gaius replied.
"The last thing we need now is for legions to fight each other," Cinna added, "but we have to try to stop the German legions following Scribonianus. Any ideas?"
"I'll go and see Plautius," Gaius said. "If Pannonia stands with us, I doubt the German legions will have any faith in Scribonianus."
"If I can help in any way, let me know."
"Thanks," Gaius said. "I think the only thing we can do now is keep each other informed, and don't let a word of this get out until this revolt is stopped."
"What about the Senators? If they . . ."
"Two are captured, and my cavalry is out looking for the rest. I don't think they're going anywhere soon."
"Then good luck."
* * *
The words of the prophecy came back to Gaius as he rode up to the villa. There would be two women in his life, and only one of them would be beautiful. That implied that Vipsania, the beautiful one, would be replaced. If she were part of this revolt, he would have to send her back to Claudius, and probably to her execution; he would have no option. He had to know, no matter how much he did not wish one of the answers. Then there was the problem, how would he find out the truth? He could lose her while she was quite innocent. The problem seemed impossible, but he had to face it.
As he opened the door, he saw Vipsania on the far side of the room. She looked up to see who it was, then she ran towards him, arms outstretched. "Gaius! How . . ." She stopped about three meters away, as she saw the look on his face, and asked, "Gaius, what's wrong?"
"Vipsania, why did your father come here?"
She looked surprised. "Why?" Then she looked irritated, and said, "Why don't you ask him? I thought he was looking for you?"
"He was, and we met," Gaius replied. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need you to convince me."
"Convince you of what?"
"What your father wants."
Vipsania looked puzzled. "I have no idea what he wants," she said, "except he did say it would be good for us."
"Are you sure you don't know?"
"Yes," she said, now a little angrily. "Why this interrogation?"
"Because your father is involved in a plot to overthrow Claudius," Gaius said flatly.
"What?" she said in surprise. "That's impossible! You must be mistaken." Then the significance of what Gaius had said sank in, and a look of apprehension crossed her face. "You believe, don't you?"
"More than that, I know."
"Then what happens now?"
"The legions here stay put, and Scribonianus is doomed," Gaius replied.
"And me?"
"I need you to swear truthfully you knew nothing about this."
"I knew nothing about this," Vipsania replied, a little defiantly.
"Thank the Gods," Gaius said, and he stepped forward to embrace her. "I really thought that would be the case, but you must believe me that I had to know."
"You didn't trust me?"
"I didn't know what your father told you," Gaius replied. "For all I knew, he could have told you I was on his side, in which case if you trusted me you would be involved."
"What happens to my father now?" Vipsania asked cautiously.
"If he can be made to promise that he will stay out of politics forever, I think Claudius could be persuaded to be lenient, particularly if he isn't openly named by Scribonianus. After all, Claudius' wife is in the same gens, and he won't want to irritate her unnecessarily."
"And the other senators?"
"They'll have to take their chances," Gaius shrugged. "Since one of them tried to kill me to save his own hide, I don't feel I owe him anything."
"So what are you going to do now?"
"Go and discuss this with Plautius. We have to make sure this disease is contained."
"And me?"
Gaius paused for a moment, and said hesitantly, "I would really love you to stay, I would really love to spend nights with you, but I also think it is imperative to separate you from your father. If things go wrong for him, I want you to be somewhere else, so I'm going to ask Timothy to escort you back to Rome. There's a ship heading to Classis on the morning tide. I want you to be on it, and when you get back to Rome, if anyone asks where you were, say Ravenna. Take a quick look around Ravenna so you can think of an excuse for having been there, then go to the ranch and stay there for a while."
"You think I'm in danger?"
"Possibly. Not so much from Claudius, but maybe from other plotters. If they think you betrayed them . . ."
"Then why don't I stay here?"
"Some of the others might try to link you to the plot. Also, you won't see much of me anyway, and if the German legions are involved in the plot, being near me could be very dangerous."
"If you say so," she said, without any sign of enthusiasm.
"Vipsy, I really love you," he said, and embraced he firmly, "but now I'm going to ask you to trust me on this. A plot is very dangerous and this one isn't over yet."
"I love you too," she said, and kissed him fiercely, then she backed away and said, "About my father . . ."
"Yes?"
"I know he's done wrong, and I know he'll have to take what's coming to him, but he is my father. Could you please make a really big effort to save his life?"
"Of course you have to feel for him," Gaius said, "but there's a limit to what I can do. But I promise, I will do what I can for him."
"Thanks," she said, and embraced him again.
* * *
Plautius stared at Gaius, the horror clearly on his face. "But that's terrible!"
"Yes, it is," Gaius agreed, but then he suddenly had a thought. There could be two reasons for his concern: the fact there was a coup, or the fact that the coup had failed. He had to be careful, for Plautius could well have been allied to Scribonianus.
Plautius began wandering around the room, shaking his head, before finally saying, "Something has to be done. "The problem is, what?"
"We honour our oath to the Princeps," Gaius replied. "You must persuade the German legions not to join in."
"I shall see what I can do to persuade them to remain loyal." Plautius paused, then added, as if speaking to nobody, "Irrespective of what we think of Claudius, Rome must not have another civil war."
"I agree," Gaius said firmly.
"The problem now is there're a few very ambitious younger Romans with better military connections who might jump in. Men like Galba, or Vitellius."
"I don't know them," Gaius admitted, "although I do know Vitellius' father. I started my career serving under him when he was Governor of Syria, and as far as I know, he was supportive of me."
"Then pray that Vitellius can convince his son so that the German legions remain loyal," Plautius said, "because if we cannot generate enough quick support, there will be civil war, and Claudius won't win. And if Claudius loses, and you're known to be on his side, your future is rather poor."
Gaius stared at Plautius, and a strange feeling came over him. His future was not necessarily that poor! "Petronius owes Claudius a lot, and the Egyptian legions were rather pissed off at the attitude of the German legions to Little Boots. Provided the Pannonian and Dalmatian legions can hold until next year," he replied coldly, "the eastern legions will wipe the field free of any German force. They're battle-hardened, this Galba's no Julius, and they'll get him to wipe his arse with his nose. Provided Claudius can stay alive, he will stay Princeps. So our job is clear: the Pannonian and Dalmat
ian legions must stand firm."
Plautius stared at him in surprise, as he could see a fire was burning in the eyes of his new subordinate. The local legions would stand firm, or this young man would bring the eastern legions and he could count on them. One of the last acts of Gaius Caesar was to order Petronius to commit suicide. As it happened, Petronius was in no great hurry to comply, and Claudius' letter, in which he ordered Petronius not to, arrived in time. The east would be loyal to their favourite commander, who was clearly on good terms with this young Claudius and who could hardly fail to be loyal to the new Princeps. And this young man was also a favourite amongst the troops, or so he heard. All Plautius could do was to agree with his young Legate's proposal.
* * *
When Gaius returned to camp, he was updated on the revolt. The two he had locked in the cellar were captured without difficulty, two senators who had escaped on horses were captured and they surrendered meekly. One of the soldiers had been captured but one managed to escape, and since nobody really knew his name, it was likely that he would never be captured. The remaining soldier, when confronted and when escape was not possible, decided to stand and fight, believing death in combat was more honourable than being executed for treason. The cavalry was only too willing to oblige him.
Gaius decided to interview his captives, who were held in makeshift cells built of wooden stakes. The cells were rudimentary, very drafty, and somewhat smelly after a while, but they did their job: they contained the prisoners. He did not expect to learn much, and he was not surprised. They were a sorry bunch, but the revolt was clearly quite amateurish. For some reason they had convinced themselves that because of the family connections, Messala would be able to persuade Gaius to march on Rome and for some reason they expected the seventh would meekly follow. Now, with a trial in front of them, they were truly a sorry bunch.
One of the senators tried to bribe Gaius, offering a bag of gold for a day's start. Gaius stared at him coldly, then said, "You were happy enough to have me put to death, so I am happy enough to leave you to the Princeps' mercy." He then indicated to the guard that he wished to speak to Messala in private. The guard nodded, and walked away, but watched and was ready to return at an instant.
Messala was crouched in the wooden cell with a pitiful look on his face. "Please, Gaius . . ."
"Quiet!" Gaius snarled. "You were going to kill me, and quite frankly I'd rather stick a gladius up your arse, but there's Vipsania to consider. What you've done is to poison the water for us. Now there's doubt whether she will truly stand by me, and she must be worrying about what I will do to her. That's your gift to your daughter, and frankly I think . . ."
"I'll talk to her and persuade her . . ."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. You've done more than enough already."
"Then what about me?"
"I shall send a report to Claudius, and I will ask him to show some mercy for you, and plead with him that I am convinced that Vipsania had nothing to do with this. It would be the honourable thing on your part to fully confess, while exonerating your daughter."
There was a silence from Messala.
"For the Gods' sake, at least do one good thing for your daughter!" Gaius spat.
"All right," came the sullen response.
"I am hoping that Claudius will be lenient, partly for me, and perhaps because you're a distant relation of his wife. I'm sure he wouldn't want adverse things about her doing the rounds of Rome."
"Thank you. I'll see . . ."
"You won't ever see me again. That's one of the conditions," Gaius waved him to stop. "My guess is, Claudius will exile you, so you might like to consider where a suitable place would be. If Claudius merely limits you to your estate, then I guess Vipsania can go and see you as she wishes, but if I see you again, I'll rethink that matter of using a gladius. In the meantime, if you have any further light to shed on this revolt, put it in writing, and I shall see that Claudius gets it, with a better recommendation for mercy." With that he turned on his heel and marched off, leaving the guard to give Messala some writing equipment.
Later that day he began making arrangements for the captives to be returned to Rome.
* * *
The task of keeping the Danube legions in camp was easier than anyone suspected. While there was very little direct enthusiasm for Claudius himself, there was even less for Scribonianus, and much less for civil war. The upper Danube legions would stand firm behind their governor, and they would persuade the lower Rhine legions to show the same loyalty to the closest living relative to the divine Augustus.
Thus at the same time that the Governor of Dalmatia made his ponderous attack on the now besieged Claudius, a message was received in the senate that the Danube legions had found their eagles mysteriously fixed to the ground, and this was interpreted as a message from the Gods. The Dalmatian legions were fully supportive of the Princeps. With his own legions against him, the Governor had lost.
Gaius also sent the Princeps two messages. The first was also for any of those close to Claudius to whom he wished to show the letter, and it explained to Claudius the background to the bungled insurrection, as he knew it, and the legions whose support he could count on. The second was personal. He promised Claudius that he could count on the legions for at least a year, but many of the soldiers were a little tired of the antics of Gaius Caesar. The Governor had made one valid point. Claudius had to restore Rome's dignity, and restore order to Rome. It was of prime importance that he did something the following summer to improve the situation. Anything, as long as it did something to improve Rome.
Chapter 17
There was a period in which little happened. The legion marched to Lussonium, and the standard exercises proceeded. There was little news from Rome. Timothy, who had remained under Gaius' instructions, sent a letter informing him that Vipsania was safely back at the ranch, and he had seen to it that everybody in Rome believed she had always been in Ravenna. There were, after all, very few days that were not truthfully accounted for.
There were no public trials. Dome of the senators were offered the choice of voluntary exile with forfeit of property, or trials when, if found guilty, they would be executed. Voluntary exile had its attractions. There were, however, a number of executions.
A letter soon arrived from Vipsania.
My Dearest Gaius,
I miss you very much, particularly since I had so looked forward to being with you. I had thought my appearance would be such a pleasant surprise, but oh how I was disappointed. I swear I had no idea what my father was involved in, and I can only thank you for your kindness. He has now gone into exile, but at least he is still alive.
My return to Rome had its moments. Timothy very kindly ensured our luggage was neatly loaded, and our ship sailed promptly on the tide. I was half asleep, and while I was hungry, I did not feel very much like breakfast. This may have been just as well, because the weather deteriorated, and the ship was tossed around something terribly. I was sick for much of the journey, but fortunately Timothy arranged for me to have a place to rest. Timothy also arranged a place to stay in Ravenna that was clean, but not in the centre, and for a few extra sesterces, we got the promise that the owner would swear we had been there for five nights. The next day we walked around Ravenna, and Timothy made me memorize where some important places were, and what we did on the days we weren't there. Really, Gaius, I think this is overdoing it, but you can be assured that Timothy did his job well. He kept asking me, what did I do on which day, and tried to fool me by saying I had said something different before.
I really think this was a waste of time, because nobody has asked me anything. Who cares what I do?
I have checked the business, and everything remains in order. Your steward is really quite efficient, and there really isn't much for me to do. His records are clear, and I can promise you he is looking after your interests perfectly. The only difficulty I have had is that some of the shipments from Egypt have not been recorded prope
rly. These were organized by Quintus, and I assume he has the records. I shall try to find out.
Timothy stayed for a week, then he left, or he said he did. I was told by someone that they saw him in Rome a week later, but of course it may not have been him at all. I sometimes think people will tell me anything.
My father has been exiled, and I must thank you for your efforts, for I know had it not been for your plea to Claudius, he would almost certainly have been executed. Several others were. I hope you do not mind, but I stayed with him to comfort him for his last few days in Rome. He is really shaken, and he really did not know you were so attached to Claudius. It seems that the wretched Scribonianus had arrogantly assumed that if he ordered you to march on Rome to support him, you would. I think he was too afraid of treachery to get you to agree with this in advance, which was silly. Worse than that, while Scribonianus had promised many to restore the Republic, according to some of the Praetorians, he intended to be Princeps. I have no idea why my father trusted him.
I miss you, but hopefully it will not be too long until we are together again.
Your loving Vipsania
Gaius was amused to see that Timothy's attempts to remain without anyone knowing had failed. Fortunately, Vipsania did not realize that he had asked Timothy to stay, to spy on her. He was not the jealous husband, and in that respect he trusted Vipsania implicitly, but he was not entirely convinced that she would be free of conspiracy. Even if she were innocent, that did not mean that conspirators would not attempt to contact her. It was all so messy.
The news about Quintus irritated him. It would not surprise him if Quintus were cheating him a little. He probably felt that he was not being sufficiently well rewarded for what he was doing, and perhaps he was right, but that did not mean that he was entitled to help himself. Also, it was not as if he had asked Quintus to help: Quintus had taken that task on himself. All the same, if he wanted a bigger reward for carrying out whatever work he wished to specify, all he had to do was ask. On the other hand, whatever the problem was, it may have been nothing more than careless accounting, and he really did not care that much, as long as the ranch overall made a good profit, which it still seemed to be doing.
