Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8)

by Douglas Jackson

  Strabo snorted disdainfully. ‘Have we descended to the level of the barbarians?’

  ‘Your job was not to kill Owain Lawhir.’ Agricola ignored the other man. ‘It was to hold his forces in place until I arrived with the Twentieth to annihilate them. Instead, they tell me you attacked and now thousands of Celtic warriors are rushing to defend the druids on Mona. Every Ordovice you allowed to escape makes the attack more difficult and puts my legionaries at greater risk. You allowed your lust for glory to blind you to my strategic aim.’

  Valerius felt the heat of his anger growing with every word. He could have pointed out that Agricola’s strategy depended on his approach remaining undiscovered, and that Owain had known of his route the moment he’d left Viroconium. He could have argued that attack had been his only option, and that if he’d stayed his hand Owain and his entire army would have escaped to Mona at the first sign of Agricola’s approach. Instead, he said: ‘I would commend the selfless conduct and bravery of Quintus Naso, camp prefect of the Ninth legion, whose supporting attack was crucial to the victory.’ He put an emphasis on the word victory, clearly at odds with Agricola’s view, making Strabo raise a cultured eyebrow, but the governor didn’t react. ‘Also my primus pilus, Julius Ulpius Canalius, for his unflinching courage in the first line of defence, and the scout, Gaius Rufus, who led my cavalry in the flanking movement crucial to the success of the mission.’

  ‘Our cavalry,’ Agricola corrected him. ‘You would not deny the Twentieth’s part in the battle, I’m sure.’ Valerius nodded his head in acknowledgement, wondering what the governor’s dispatch to the Palatium would say. ‘But that is in the past. Now we must coordinate our assault on Mona. Despite the reinforcements they have received,’ a tight smile of admonition, ‘Between us we will make short work of these filthy druids and their supporters.’

  Valerius mentioned the tidal surge he’d seen swamp the Ordovice rafts.

  ‘Yes.’ Agricola got to his feet, stretching to ease his back, and walked across to the sand table where a rough model of Mona and the shore of the mainland had been created. ‘Our timing must be precise. I’ve ordered my cavalry to round up any boatmen or fishermen they find for questioning, but I have Paulinus’s tables recording the tidal movements. As I remember it there are several possible sites for the crossing, which suits us admirably. The Twentieth will make the main attack. I have two hundred assault boats in my baggage train. My Batavian water rats will provide the crews. They have more experience of river crossings than any other unit in Britannia. Each boat can carry ten men, so we can put up to two thousand fully armed legionaries on the beach in the first wave.’

  Valerius imagined the short crossing. The Celts massed in the trees. ‘They’ll be waiting for you,’ he pointed out. ‘If they attack the boats in the shallows you could suffer heavy casualties.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. But if my plan succeeds they won’t know where the landing will happen. As I say, the Twentieth will carry out the main assault,’ he pointed to a narrow part of the strait, ‘here in the north. However, we will disguise all our preparations. In the meantime, the Ninth will have carried out a probing attack in the south to draw any reinforcements there. My cavalry and auxiliary infantry will mass here in the centre, disguised as legionaries, and make a demonstration which will hold the defenders in place while the real attack happens elsewhere. They’ll also undoubtedly hold some kind of force in the west in case the attack is supported by a naval operation.’

  ‘It would make sense.’ Valerius pointed out the obvious.

  ‘It would also have taken time I do not have.’

  Valerius noted that once again Agricola was using the Ninth as bait. It was only now he remembered the witch’s prophecy. You will fight your battle and taste your victory, Aurinia had said, but it will turn to ashes in your mouth. You will have your legion. But it will be the legion of the damned. Sometimes it seemed the governor was determined to destroy the Ninth Hispana. If that was the case, Valerius was equally determined not to let it happen. Yet he had no choice but to obey Agricola’s orders. If he wished to sacrifice one element for the success of the overall operation the decision was his. Studying the sand table, Valerius noticed that the area where the governor planned to mass his cavalry was one of the least likely crossing places. The chances were that the Ordovices would see it for what it was, a feint, and hurry their defenders to where the crossing was already in progress.

  ‘May I assume that at least half of the boats will be made available to the Ninth?’

  ‘You may assume nothing of the sort.’ Agricola leaned across the table. ‘I’m prepared to allow you fifty of the craft, but otherwise you’ll have to find another way to get your men across. You’re a resourceful man, Valerius; I’m sure you’ll come up with some stratagem. I don’t have to tell an officer of your experience that it’s essential the main crossing is carried out in overwhelming numbers.’

  ‘When do we cross?’

  ‘The tides are right in two days. We must take advantage or wait a week and more. I don’t see any point in wasting time. As you said in Londinium, winter is fast approaching. Your boats will be with you before dusk. A day to prepare, then a dawn crossing. We’ll give you till the end of the second hour to make a proper demonstration and pin them in place before the Twentieth makes the crossing.’

  Valerius thought the timetable overhasty, but he could see that Agricola wouldn’t be moved. ‘In that case,’ he replaced his helmet, ‘I had best get back to my men.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Valerius.’ Agricola sounded more conciliatory as he walked him to the doorway. ‘I understand your concerns, but my responsibility is to the Emperor and to ensure the success of this mission.’

  When he was out in the open air, Valerius drew in a deep breath. The anger remained, but there was something else that puzzled him. Something in Agricola’s tone he didn’t understand. It was almost as if the man pitied him.

  He walked back through the camp to where he’d left the escort. Tents were being erected all around him and legionaries continued to work on the bank and the ditch. On the way he remembered he’d promised Julius Hellenicus that he’d replace the medical supplies depleted in the battle. He changed course for the hospital tent, which was always the first to be set up along with the commander’s. In the gloom he could see that only two or three of the low cots were occupied, the patients anonymous humps beneath the blankets. The chief medicus and his assistant were setting out their equipment beneath a lamp at the far end of the big leather tent. The man looked doubtful on hearing Valerius’s request. ‘I’ll do what I can, but we expect to be busy ourselves in the next few days. Still, I should be able to put together a mule load if you can wait?’

  Valerius said he’d return with some men. He was on his way to the exit when one of the few patients tried to raise himself up on his cot as he passed. Valerius called to the medicus and would have continued on his way, but the man threw back his blanket with a groan of agony. A large bandage covered most of his head, but beneath it Valerius recognized the haggard, pain-racked features of Rufius Florus.

  ‘Bring this man water.’ Valerius hurried to the cot and pushed the injured cavalryman back, his mind racing with the potential consequences of Florus’s presence. A terrible paralysing fear threatened to overwhelm him. ‘Stay, Rufius,’ he said urgently. ‘I’m here and your comrades are nearby. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Taken.’ The young trooper’s whisper was so faint Valerius had to bend over him to make it out.

  ‘Who was taken?’

  ‘Ceris,’ Florus sobbed. ‘They took Ceris.’ Valerius felt a guilty surge of relief, instantly dashed by his next words. ‘Ceris and the lady. Lucius too. Marius and the others are dead. Aaagh.’ Florus cried out as Valerius’s fingers dug into his flesh.

  ‘Careful, legate.’ The medicus put the nozzle of a water skin to Florus’s lips. ‘His ribs are cracked and he has a fractured skull.’

  ‘I need to know what happen
ed.’ Valerius could hear the fear in his own voice.

  ‘He’s unconscious. He can’t tell you anything else.’

  ‘Then revive him.’

  ‘That could kill him,’ the medicus snapped.

  Valerius fought waves of panic. ‘Tell me how he got here.’ He almost choked on the words.

  ‘He rode into camp more dead than alive,’ the medicus informed him. ‘It must have been on the fourth day of the march, and he wouldn’t be treated until he’d spoken to the governor.’

  Valerius gaped. ‘Agricola knows about this?’

  ‘I don’t know what was said, but they certainly spoke, and then he was sent here to be looked after.’

  ‘Agricola knew,’ Valerius whispered, almost to himself. ‘But why …?’ He straightened. ‘Look after the boy. I will be back for the supplies.’

  He marched out of the medical tent and went straight back to Agricola’s headquarters. The two guards saw the look on his face and stepped in front of him, but Valerius pushed them aside.

  ‘The governor is not—’

  ‘The governor will see me now,’ Valerius snarled as he pulled back the curtain.

  He heard two swords being drawn with that familiar musical hiss, but he ignored the sound and stepped inside. ‘You knew.’ The words emerged through clenched teeth.

  Agricola looked up and dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. ‘I have men looking for them,’ he said. ‘There was nothing you could do about it and I deemed it important for the coming operations that you were not distracted.’

  ‘My wife, my son and my unborn child?’ Valerius felt like taking Agricola by the throat and shaking him the way a terrier shakes a rat. ‘And you didn’t want me distracted?’

  ‘Four nights ago a substantial force of Celts raided the fort at Viroconium. They overcame the garrison and slaughtered most of them. The survivors, including one of your men, saw three prisoners being carried off by the raiders. As far as we know they have not been harmed. Four squadrons of cavalry are scouring the mountains for them. You were in the midst of your battle when they were taken, Valerius. What difference could you have made?’

  It was true, but that did nothing to alter the terrible sense of watching his loved ones being swept down a swirling river and being incapable of doing anything to save them. ‘At least I could have made my own decision,’ he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

  ‘I need you here,’ Agricola snapped. ‘No one else can take the Ninth across those straits and do what needs to be done.’

  ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘Perhaps that is true.’ Agricola’s voice softened. ‘But it makes no difference now. You are here and here you must stay and trust in the Ala Indiana to find her. They are good men under a sensible commander. Young Aprilis is my best man. If anyone can find them he can. Where would you go, Valerius? What would you do? Ride back to Viroconium and try to follow the raiders’ tracks? It would take you two days’ hard riding to get there. And when you did you would find nothing. Go back to your men and prepare them for the attack. I will send word of any news.’

  Valerius stood with his head bowed, all the anger drained from him and replaced by despair. Agricola called for his guard. ‘The legate has been taken unwell. Send for the commander of his escort.’ As they waited for Felix, he turned to Valerius. ‘I take it you made no further progress in finding Fronto’s killer. If indeed he was murdered at all.’

  It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they did Valerius stared at the governor. He had respected this man, but now? ‘Yes,’ he said eventually. ‘Fronto was certainly murdered. I think I know how and why, but I doubt I would ever be able to prove it.’

  ‘So you have a suspect. May I ask who it is?’

  ‘You.’

  The silence stretched out for a dozen heartbeats before Agricola let out a bark of laughter. ‘I believe your ordeal has deprived you of your senses.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now, Julius.’ Valerius shook his head. ‘If any man deserved to die it was Fronto. You had your reasons. You would never have trusted a man like him to lead the Ninth into the Ordovice mountains, but you couldn’t get rid of him by conventional means because of his friends in the Palatium. So he had to die. At first I thought the killer must be someone he’d hurt, perhaps an entire contubernium. Of course, you wanted me to think that. Yet the way he died was too quick and clean. His men would have made him suffer. The more I thought about it the more it became clear this was no murder, but an execution. I think Aprilis distracted the guard while your assassins, probably Aprilis’s bodyguard, killed him and threw his body off the cliff. Tertius, the primus pilus, was the only other man aware of the plot, but he conveniently disappeared from the convoy Aprilis accompanied. A young officer with a bright future, Aprilis. Intelligent, ruthless, and with friends in high places, I hear.’

  Agricola’s eyes turned evasive. ‘You’re playing a very dangerous game making accusations of that nature, Valerius,’ he said carefully.

  ‘As I say, it doesn’t matter. You will write the final report on Fronto’s death. Perhaps you’ve done it already.’ He heard Felix addressing the guard. ‘Now, with your leave I will go and join my men.’

  ‘Be very careful, Gaius Valerius Verrens,’ the governor whispered. ‘These are dangerous times. Don’t get yourself killed.’

  But Valerius was already gone and Agricola was far from his mind. Only one thing mattered now. How was he going to save his wife and son?

  If he’d turned back he would have been surprised to find the governor in conversation with the young man they’d been discussing only moments earlier. ‘He knows too much,’ Metilius Aprilis insisted.

  ‘The fact that you have a brother on the Palatine means nothing,’ Agricola snapped.

  ‘It gives me a direct link to Domitian. What if he makes the connection?’

  ‘That is none of my concern.’ Agricola looked pensive. ‘There will be a battle in the next few days and I have placed the Ninth in the position of greatest peril. One thing we know about Gaius Valerius Verrens is that he will be at the forefront of the attack. Perhaps the problem will take care of itself? In the meantime I suggest you return to Viroconium and make sure no evidence exists to link you to the loathsome Tertius.’

  Aprilis smiled. ‘And if I happen to encounter the wife and boy on the way?’

  Agricola looked up and held his gaze. ‘I’m sure I can count on you to make the right decision.’

  XLV

  Gaius Rufus hadn’t slept in three nights and he’d spent all day in the saddle. When he reported to Valerius at the Ninth’s temporary camp opposite Mona he could barely stand and drank the cup of wine he was handed in a single draught. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and let out a long sigh. ‘By all the gods that was good,’ he said. He studied the man opposite and decided that if one person in this army looked worse than he felt it was Valerius. ‘We did as you ordered and kept pressing them. They didn’t put up much fight, and those we caught we killed. The rest scattered into the mountains or crossed over to the Druids’ Isle, but then you know that.’

  Something in the scout’s tone told Valerius Agricola’s rebuke about his command of the Ninth had become general knowledge. He nodded. ‘I mentioned your name in my report to the governor. I hope he makes his gratitude known in some tangible way.’

  The little man shrugged. ‘I have more gold than I can carry. We ran down some of Owain’s court when they were burying the presents he planned to give out after his victory.’ He reached into a leather pouch on his belt and drew out an object that sat in his palm glittering buttery yellow in the lamplight. It was a ring, a double circle of gold fashioned in the shape of a fire worm – a dragon – with a single faultless sapphire set in its mouth. ‘I thought your wife might like this,’ he said shyly. ‘The stone matches her eyes.’

  The reminder of Tabitha caused bile to rise in Valerius’s stomach and he turned away, clutching his mouth. ‘Lor
d,’ Gaius pleaded, shocked at the reaction his gift had provoked. ‘I meant no insult or harm. If I have caused any hurt I will repay it a hundred times. Please.’

  Valerius fought to regain control of his emotions. The truth was that for the first time in his life he was utterly helpless. They might be dead already. ‘The Celts raided Viroconium four nights ago. They killed the garrison and took my wife, Lucius and Ceris.’ He shook his head, wiping his lips with his left hand, and his voice shook as he relayed Florus’s words. ‘I don’t know whether they are alive or dead, but I will pay anything or do anything to get them back. The raiders struck like ghosts. No one knows where they came from before the attack, or where they went after it. Only one man has the knowledge, the skills and the experience to find them.’

  Rufus dropped to his knees and bowed his head. ‘I am your slave in this, lord.’

  ‘No, Gaius Rufus.’ Valerius drew him to his feet. ‘You are my champion.’

  ‘Viroconium?’ The scout turned the matter over in his mind. ‘No chance raid, then, not even against a reduced garrison. It was planned and carried out for a reason. King Owain seeking some leverage against the governor in case of defeat? Or,’ he glanced towards the wall of the tent that hid Mona, ‘those who persuaded him to attack Canovium parading their power to strike at Rome whenever they choose. In either case they will be coming in this direction. There are only three or four trails they could take. If I can cut their tracks or find someone they have spoken to I should be able to follow, or at least …’

  His voice faded, but Valerius knew what had been left unsaid. At least discover whether they’re dead or alive. ‘It will be dangerous with so many defeated warriors wandering the hills.’

  A tired laugh. ‘Danger and death have ridden at my shoulder since the day I crawled out of the hypocaust in the Temple of Claudius. I can still smell the rotting flesh and taste the smoke.’

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘A hot meal and a fresh horse and I will be in the saddle within the hour.’