Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8)

by Douglas Jackson

  It was clearly a predetermined agreement between Agricola and his wife to allow the men to talk alone. Valerius watched Tabitha leave, as always taking pleasure in her regal bearing and, despite her best intentions, sensuous carriage. As he smiled and turned back to his neighbour he heard someone slur: ‘She’s a rare piece, that one. I like a bit of dark meat myself.’

  It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did Valerius felt an upsurge of dark rage and his vision filled with red. He half rose from his seat before his neighbour, Julius Ursus, drew him back on to the couch. ‘I beg you, legate. He’s not worth it. A boor, a drunkard and a fool. A fine combination for the general of a legion, you might say, but not unknown. Please, join me in another cup of wine. Soon we will be talking strategy and no doubt he will fall asleep.’

  Valerius accepted the cup and allowed his rage to lie dormant, but he told himself there would some day be a reckoning with Caristanius Fronto. In the meantime, the others discussed mutual acquaintances, of which it turned out they had many across the Empire. Ursus had actually served as aide to Vespasian during the early part of the Judaean revolt and this command was his reward.

  ‘Gentlemen.’ Agricola tapped his cup on the gilded table top to command their attention. ‘Now that the ladies,’ he gave the word special emphasis and Fronto a look that made him drop his eyes, ‘have left us we come to the true purpose of this gathering. Once again I thank you for coming such long distances, from Lindum, Isca, Deva and Viroconium, but I felt we needed to be together so I can properly emphasize the prodigious effort that will be required of you and your soldiers in the coming years.’

  ‘Does this jumped-up clerk have to be here,’ Fronto said in a loud whisper. ‘Won’t be leading anyone. Won’t be risking a spear up his arse.’

  ‘For clarification.’ Agricola didn’t disguise the irritation in his voice. ‘Gaius Valerius Verrens is my trusted adviser and a man with a long and distinguished military career. The Emperor has sent him to Britannia to allow me to concentrate on strategy during this vital period. In my absence he will be the acting governor of the province, and should I fall the province will be his.’ In the long silence that followed Valerius felt the eyes of the other men on him and the blood rush to his face. This was a step beyond what Titus had suggested and an enormous honour. Part of him was elated, but another part wondered if Agricola was only saying it for effect. ‘I expect you to give him the same loyalty and respect you do myself,’ the governor continued. ‘Is that understood?’

  A murmur of agreement and one petulant shrug.

  At one end of the room a curtain hung over a large alcove and now Agricola drew the heavy cloth back. A wooden frame had been set up with a large piece of parchment stretched across it. They saw immediately that the white surface was sparsely marked with what appeared to be the lines of rivers and mountains. The soldiers craned forward to study the markings, Valerius as eager as any of them.

  ‘I had this drawn up by our best cartographers,’ Agricola said. ‘Behold Britannia as you have never seen it before. It is as accurate as we can make it based on the information gleaned from our previous campaigns, and from merchants, spies and native traders.’ Britannia appeared to be made up of two triangles stacked point to point on top of each other. Most of the bottom triangle – southern Britannia – had been filled in with rivers, forests, hills and settlements. By comparison, the inverted triangle on top was almost bare, with two or three rivers and a mountainous centre. ‘Of course, given our past experiences with the northern tribes some of it will be exaggeration, some lies and some nothing but fantasy, but we will only discover that when we reach it.’

  Agricola allowed his legates time to digest what they were seeing before he continued.

  ‘I expect to complete the subjugation of Britannia in four campaigning seasons. In the first, or what remains of it, we will finish the job Suetonius Paulinus began seventeen years ago. The Ordovice raid on Canovium has given us the perfect opportunity to cleanse the west of the druid poison.’

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Herenius Polio interrupted. ‘As I said in my report, there is a suspicion that the attack on Canovium was calculated to inspire exactly this response. The Ordovices and whoever is directing them will hope to draw you into the mountains and …’

  ‘You think I am a second Varus, Herenius?’ Agricola softened his words with a smile and shook his head. ‘There will be no eagles lost to the Ordovices. You are in a better position to know their loathsome ways than anyone in this room, but if what you say is true, I welcome it. Yes, they will try to draw us in, but eventually they will mass their forces against us and I will slaughter them.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘The details can wait.’ Agricola dismissed his lieutenant’s concerns with a wave of the hand. ‘So, first the west. In the second season we will consolidate what we have in Brigante country. They are cowed, but given the opportunity they can still put a formidable force in the field and I don’t want that kind of threat at my back. I have ordered my spymasters to discover and record every infringement of Roman law amongst the tribes of the Brigante federation. Every bushel of grain that’s not reported, every government horse that’s stolen or cow butchered, every hidden sword and chariot. We will bring the forces at our command down upon them like a sledgehammer. Raid the villages, take hostages by the hundred from their ruling classes, empty their corn stores in retaliation, and then give it back so they love us as much as they fear us.’

  The legates were grinning now. This was the kind of campaigning they understood and liked. An enemy that didn’t know what was coming, light casualties, and who knew what profit might be picked up along the way.

  ‘As far as possible we will replenish our supplies from the sea, which means bases here in the west’ – he pointed to the chart – ‘where our exploratores have confirmed this estuary cuts well inland, and again in the east, where this river provides access on the same line. This will provide the platform to move north again.’ He gave them a significant look. ‘North into the unknown. The only information we have comes from coastal traders. Beyond this line of hills – they are too insignificant to be called mountains – lies a fertile plain. It’s said the tribes who inhabit it constantly squabble and fight over land and water rights.’

  ‘Divide and conquer.’ Julius Ursus spoke for the first time.

  ‘Precisely.’ Agricola smiled. ‘Why fight the enemy when you can get them to fight each other?’

  ‘And this feature?’ The legate of the Twentieth pointed to a mark two-thirds of the way up the map.

  ‘One of the few definite things we know,’ the governor answered. ‘A distinctive formation of three hills visible all around, said to be sacred to the natives. I have called it Trimontium and I hope you and I will become better acquainted with it, Julius.’

  ‘How far do we expect to advance?’ Polio asked.

  ‘As far as here, where the two rivers form what may well be the narrowest point in the northlands.’

  ‘The narrower it is, the better to defend,’ Second Augusta’s legate pointed out.

  Agricola shrugged. They would cross that hurdle when they came to it. ‘And in the fourth season we will conquer what’s left. The true primitives of the island.’

  ‘Then they must be primitives indeed, if the filth in the south is anything to go by.’ His comrades smiled dutifully at Fronto’s intervention, but Agricola ignored him.

  ‘None of this can be achieved until we secure the west. Forgive me for cutting you off earlier, Herenius, but I felt the need to expand on … should we call it my grand plan, before setting out my thoughts on the initial phase. The Ordovices will expect us to advance by the route taken by Paulinus. I intend to confound them by attacking from Viroconium with the Twentieth,’ Julius Ursus bowed, though he knew Agricola would be sharing not only his command tent, but his command also, ‘and a strong vexillatio of the Ninth.’ A few grunts of surprise. Like its legate, Fronto’s Ninth was known
to be the weakest of the legions in Britannia, with a poor record and significant leadership flaws. Fronto knew this as well as anyone and the expression on his face mirrored his surprise. ‘The remaining cohorts of the Ninth will move north to Eboracum and prepare winter quarters for the legion. Herenius, you and the Adiutrix will remain at Deva. I want you to bring in every ear of wheat and oats and every cow the locals can spare. Be firm. I don’t want my men going hungry because we fretted over a few empty Deceangli and Cornovii bellies. A stockpile every day’s march to the border of Brigantia, but hide them well. I don’t want them to know we’re coming. Once we’ve dealt with the Ordovices the Twentieth will winter at Lindum, but march north to Eboracum at the first thaw.’

  He turned to Strabo. ‘My apologies for neglecting you. The Second Augusta will move up from Isca to Deva in the spring and be ready to reinforce my advance or support my withdrawal at need. Now,’ he looked at each man in turn, ‘I’m sure you will wish to make an early start tomorrow and begin your preparations. Caristanius? See me in the morning before you leave.’

  The legates got to their feet, and Valerius turned to go with the rest. ‘A moment, Valerius. I have some guidance for you.’

  ‘Governor.’

  Valerius watched the other four men leave. Ursus and Strabo invited him to visit their bases as they made their farewells, Fronto only scowled, and Polio seemed lost in his own thoughts. Still no clue as to which of them was Domitian’s man. Agricola waited until they were alone, toying with an ornate metal tower decorated with a short text. The tower rattled as he turned it and he noticed Valerius’s interest. ‘A gift from my staff after the Brigante campaign. It helps add a little spice to a game.’

  Valerius studied the inscription. Brigantes Victos Hostis Deleta Ludite Securi. ‘The Brigantes are defeated, the enemy is destroyed, play in safety,’ he read aloud. The gambler placed the dice in the top so they fell through a series of steps to little doors hung with bells that would ring as they emerged. ‘A fine gift,’ he observed.

  ‘A token of genuine esteem, I think.’

  Valerius smiled. Did Agricola not see that it could also be a hint that his officers believed their commander was prone to cheating at games of chance? The governor took back the tower and placed it on the wooden chest it came from. ‘You didn’t have much to say for yourself. Your reputation is of a man who is more forthright.’

  Valerius laughed. ‘I wasn’t aware I had a reputation, never mind that it had travelled so far.’

  ‘But you do have an opinion?’

  Valerius hesitated, uncertain what this had to do with Fronto’s ‘jumped-up clerk’. ‘As for your overall campaign … Your generals seem satisfied. I am not here in a military capacity and it’s not my place to question their judgement or yours.’

  ‘But …?’

  ‘If you really want my view, I think your timetable is optimistic. You could very easily get bogged down in the west, especially in winter. I applaud your strategy in Brigante country, although I doubt our allies will. They are still our allies?’

  ‘Nominally.’

  ‘After that you’re in the unknown. You say the place of the three hills is believed to be sacred. In my experience people fight for their sacred places and they fight to the death.’ He went to the map. ‘You’ll be wintering among people who hate your guts and then you reach this narrow isthmus between the two rivers. But then you’ll have taken all this into consideration.’

  Agricola smiled. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I only have one question. Why the Ninth?’

  ‘Was it so obvious?’

  ‘To me, yes. Even Fronto couldn’t believe the honour you’d done him.’

  The governor nodded slowly. ‘The Ninth isn’t a bad legion, or certainly not as bad as their reputation would suggest. They haven’t had Fortuna’s favour, but of course you know that.’ Valerius had a momentary flashback to the white corpses scattered like maggots along the road between Lindum and Londinium, butchered by Boudicca’s allies. ‘I need them if I’m to conquer the north,’ Agricola continued. ‘The trouble is they’ve been in Lindum so long they’ve put down roots. They think they can do things their way. That story you told at dinner, about abducting the Chatti witch – not something I would have condoned, I might add – made my point. The best way to change their attitude is to put them in harm’s way and let them learn the reality.’

  ‘I can’t fault your logic,’ Valerius admitted.

  ‘Good. Now, as to the guidance I mentioned …’

  XXIV

  Valerius slipped into bed and pulled the sheet over him. He had thought Tabitha was asleep, but she took his left hand and placed it over the warm, silky flesh of her stomach. When they’d lain like that for a while she said: ‘So what do we think of Governor Agricola?’

  ‘If we were wise we would delay having a view until we knew him better.’

  ‘He seems to value your opinion.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘His wife told me there was no one of rank on the island he could trust until you arrived. You don’t like him?’

  ‘It’s not a question of liking. He’s a competent administrator and a successful general. That hasn’t always been the case in Britannia. I still don’t fully understand why he feels he needs me. He has three first class generals in Ursus, Polio and Strabo. Any one of them is capable of defeating the northern tribes with three full legions.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ Tabitha said drowsily. ‘He wants the glory.’

  Valerius laughed. ‘Julius Agricola already has all the laurels any man would need.’

  ‘No one is going to erect a statue of him in the Forum because he subdued the Brigantes. But if he sends the kings of every northern tribe he defeats to Rome in chains Vespasian will award him a triumph.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot.’

  ‘I told you. Domitia likes to talk. There are very few women of rank in Britannia, and none she cares to confide in.’

  ‘Yet she took to an exotic eastern princess in a matter of hours.’

  ‘Of course.’ He heard the smile in her voice. ‘I chose her gift with great care. She says Agricola has been on edge lately.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. He thought I was sent here either to assassinate him or to spy on him.’

  ‘See, your reputation goes before you.’

  ‘He said that.’

  ‘But you convinced him he could trust you?’

  ‘He introduced me to his senior officers and briefed me on the detail of his plans. He didn’t have to do that. But trust? I’m not sure he trusts anyone.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong, my Hero of Rome.’

  He turned and kissed her. ‘I’m not here as a soldier but as a lawyer, or as Legate Fronto put it a jumped-up clerk.’

  ‘Domitia despises the man, and I didn’t like the way he looked at me.’

  Valerius thought it best not to tell her what Fronto had said about her. Tabitha’s reaction to a slight could be both unpredictable and dangerous.

  ‘So when do you start your clerking?’

  He smiled and moved his hand a little lower. She stirred beneath him and wriggled her hips so his fingers were in a certain position she liked. What he felt now produced another kind of stirring.

  ‘As soon as I check that the men of the escort are settled in tomorrow. The governor says I should take as long as I need to get to know my people.’

  ‘Good. I’m interested in exploring Londinium. There was a little goldsmith’s shop on the way here …’

  ‘Then there are two or three complex cases in Colonia the local magistrate doesn’t feel able to deal with.’ She heard something in his voice when he said the word Colonia, but decided not to pursue it for now.

  ‘So we’re going to this Colonia?’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Of course. Lucius needs to be with his father. Domitia says I can use the governor’s coach whenever I wish.’

  Valerius could tell there was no point
in arguing.

  ‘Valerius?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If this is the governor’s palace there will be a spy listening at every door.’

  ‘True,’ he agreed.

  ‘Well,’ she raised the sheet and rolled on top of him, ‘let’s give them something to report.’

  ‘So tell me about Colonia,’ Tabitha suggested, as they walked in the sunshine beside the carriage. Valerius led his horse and was heartily glad of the fresh air after seven days inhaling the scent of old leather and decaying parchment in the cramped rooms of the basilica. Soot, too, because despite what Agricola had said some of the archives had been recovered – charred fragments in most cases – and the little information they contained informed the law as much as those which came later. Much of his time had been spent trying to understand the complex network of grants, dispensations and monopolies which dated back to just after the Claudian conquest. King Cogidubnus of the Regni, who had ruled a great swathe of land on the south coast, had been granted something close to self-rule for his support of the invasion. His successors enjoyed the same privileges, with some apparently controversial modifications imposed in Nero’s time. Likewise, the citizens of Verulamium, who had been left destitute by Boudicca, had been given the right to levy taxes on goods carried up and down the road between Londinium and Lindum. On the other hand municipia like Verulamium had fewer rights than coloniae, such as their present destination, Colonia Claudia. To the uninitiated, Roman law applied equally to all the cities, but the reality was very different.

  ‘I said tell me about Colonia.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He smiled. ‘I was thinking. My head seems to be filled with a huge spider’s web linking one piece of apparently useless information to another.’

  He looked ahead to where the vanguard of his escort were walking their horses, happy to see men from the four legions talking together. At first he’d been concerned that Tabitha’s carriage would slow them down, but when he’d thought about it he’d realized that a well-driven carriage on a good road could easily maintain the same pace as a cavalryman in no hurry. And Valerius was in no hurry. He was content to take his time and get a feel for the country again.