Copyright © 2016 Simon Scarrow
The right of Simon Scarrow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published in Great Britain in 2016
by Headline Publishing Group
First published as an Ebook in 2016
by Headline Publishing Group
All characters – other than the obvious historical figures – in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 1333 4
Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Also by Simon Scarrow
Praise
About the Book
Dedication
Hispania AD 54
The Imperial Mine at Argentium
Praetorian Chain of Command
Cast List
Epigraph
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note on The Praetorian Guard
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Simon Scarrow is a Sunday Times No. 1 bestselling author. His bestsellers include his novels featuring Roman soldiers Macro and Cato, most recently INVICTUS, BRITANNIA, and BROTHERS IN BLOOD, as well as SWORD AND SCIMITAR, about the 1565 Siege of Malta, HEARTS OF STONE, about the Greek Resistance in the Second World War, and a quartet about Wellington and Napoleon including the No. 1 Sunday Times bestseller THE FIELDS OF DEATH. He is the author with T. J. Andrews of the novels ARENA and INVADER.
Find out more at www.simonscarrow.co.uk and on Facebook/officialsimonscarrow and Twitter @SimonScarrow.
By Simon Scarrow
The Roman Empire Series
The Britannia Campaign
Under the Eagle (AD 42–43, Britannia)
The Eagle’s Conquest (AD 43, Britannia)
When the Eagle Hunts (AD 44, Britannia)
The Eagle and the Wolves (AD 44, Britannia)
The Eagle’s Prey (AD 44, Britannia)
Rome and the Eastern Provinces
The Eagle’s Prophecy (AD 45, Rome)
The Eagle in the Sand (AD 46, Judaea)
Centurion (AD 46, Syria)
The Mediterranean
The Gladiator (AD 48–49, Crete)
The Legion (AD 49, Egypt)
Praetorian (AD 51, Rome)
The Return to Britannia
The Blood Crows (AD 51, Britannia)
Brothers in Blood (AD 51, Britannia)
Britannia (AD 52, Britannia)
Hispania
Invictus (AD 54, Hispania)
The Wellington and Napoleon Quartet
Young Bloods
The Generals
Fire and Sword
The Fields of Death
Sword and Scimitar (Great Siege of Malta)
Hearts of Stone (Second World War)
The Gladiator Series
Gladiator: Fight for Freedom
Gladiator: Street Fighter
Gladiator: Son of Spartacus
Writing with T.J. Andrews
Arena (AD 41, Rome)
Invader (AD 44, Britannia)
PRAISE
‘A new book in Simon Scarrow’s series about the Roman army is always a joy’ The Times
‘A thoroughly exciting novel . . . stands alone well in its own right as a piece of Roman military historical fiction, while also strongly affirming that there is a lot of life left in this enjoyable and popular series’ forwinternights.wordpress.com
‘Makes the series fresh again, a new depth to Macro and Cato, a new edge to the Roman world and conflicts in Britannia, all achieved with style and a simply splendid plot line. Highly recommended’ Parmenion Books
‘Gripping . . . ferocious and compelling, it is a story of blood, romance and sacrifice’ Daily Express
‘Scarrow’s [novels] rank with the best’ Independent
‘Gripping’ Sunday Times
‘I really don’t need this kind of competition . . . It’s a great read’ Bernard Cornwell
‘[Simon Scarrow] blends together the historical facts and characters to create a book that simply cannot be put down . . . Highly recommended’ Historical Novels Review
ABOUT THE BOOK
AD 54. The soldiers of the Roman army patrol a vast Empire, enforcing imperial rule with brutal efficiency. In Hispania, tensions have reached boiling point. Bands of rebels range over the land. A unit of the army’s finest, supported by the feared Praetorian Guard, is dispatched to restore the peace. Their commander is Vitellius, a veteran of unmatched ambition.
Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro are commanded to join the march to Hispania. Their mission is fraught with danger: on the one hand, feuding Spanish tribes, challenging terrain and an embittered populace. On the other: intrigue against the ageing Emperor Claudius.
Only through strategic brilliance, unparallelled courage and the smile of good fortune can Macro and Cato hope to triumph – or even survive . . .
For Louise
LMLX
CAST LIST
In Rome
Quintus Licinius Cato, Prefect
Lucius Cornelius Macro, Centurion
Emperor Tiberius Claudius Augustus Germanicus
Agrippina, Claudius’ fourth wife
Nero, Agrippina’s son and Claudius’ great nephew
Britannicus, Claudius’ son by his third wife, Messalina
Narcissus, Greek imperial freedman, supporter of Britannicus
Pallas, Greek imperial freedman, Agrippina’s lover and supporter of Nero
&nbs
p; Legate Aulus Vitellius, part of Nero’s faction
Senator Lucius Annaeus Seneca, a wealthy landowner
Lucius Scabarus, inn-keeper
Gaius Gannicus, guardsman
Polidorus, master of ceremonies at the Imperial Palace
At the mine
Procurator Gaius Nepo, responsible for the Emperor’s gold supply
Second Praetorian Cohort
Tribune Aulus Valerius Cristus
Centurions Placinus, Secundus, Porcino, Petillius, Musa, Pulcher
Gaius Getellus Cimber, town magistrate of Lancia
Metellus, optio to Pulcher
Sentiacus, optio to Petillius
Pastericus, optio to Nepo
Collenus, optio of the Fourth Praetorian Cohort
Others
Iskerbeles, rebel leader
Caratacus, captured British king of the Catuvellauni tribe
Julia, Cato’s deceased wife
Lucius, Julia and Cato’s son
Senator Sempronius, Julia’s father
Petronella, Lucius’ nurse
Amatapus, housekeeper at Julia’s house
Titus Pelonius Aufidius, magistrate of Asturia Augusta
Callaecus, rebel
Publius Ballinus, governor of Hispania Terraconensis
Caius Glaecus, chief of the olive traders’ guild
Micus Aeschleus, slave dealer
Gaius Hettius Gordo, senior magistrate of Antium Barca
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
William Ernest Henley, ‘Invictus’
PROLOGUE
The Province of Hispania Terraconensis, early summer AD 54
There were cries of anger from the large crowd as the prisoner was dragged, blinking, into the bright sunlight bathing the forum in the heart of Asturica Augusta. He had been held in chains in one of the dank cells beneath the senate house for over a month while he waited for the Roman magistrate to return from his farming estate to pronounce sentence. Now, the magistrate stood on the steps of the senate house, surrounded by the other worthies of the town dressed in their finery of togas and embroidered tunics, ready to deliver his judgement. But there was little doubt in the minds of the crowd, and that of the prisoner, over his fate.
Iskerbeles had struck down and killed the official who had come to his village to demand slaves in lieu of the repayment of the debt owed to a fabulously wealthy senator back in Rome. He had killed the man in front of hundreds of witnesses and the auxiliary soldiers who were escorting the hapless freedman sent to collect the debt. It did not matter that the official had just given orders to seize ten of the village’s children and that the blow had been struck in a moment of anger. Iskerbeles was a powerfully built man with dark, fierce eyes beneath a sturdy brow. He had punched the freedman in the face, causing the man to tumble back and split his skull open on the corner of a stone water trough. It had been a cruel twist of fate, made crueller still when the officer in charge of the auxiliaries ordered his men to take the village chief prisoner, along with the children. But while the children were to be taken away to be sold into slavery, Iskerbeles was fated to be tried for murder and condemned to public execution.
The last he had seen of his wife had been her despair as she embraced their two young daughters, sobbing into the folds of her tunic. A day’s march had brought the captives to Asturica Augusta and here Iskerbeles had been chained into the cell while the children were shackled to a column of those condemned to be sold in the great slave market at the provincial capital of Tarraco. He had been half starved in the time since, and the heavy iron manacles had worn painful sores about his wrists. His hair was matted and he was so smeared with his own filth that the ten guards escorting him kept their distance and prodded him with the tips of their spears to make him stumble through the crowd towards the foot of the steps.
The angry cries of the townspeople, and those who had come from the surrounding countryside, began to fade as they saw his pitiful condition and by the time he was brought to a halt at the foot of the steps there was a grim silence in the forum. Even those at the market stalls on the far side paused to turn and look across towards the senate house, caught up in the tense atmosphere.
‘Stand up straight, you!’ one of the guards hissed, digging the butt of his spear into the small of the prisoner’s back. Iskerbeles stumbled forward half a pace and then drew himself up defiantly and glared up at the magistrate. The centurion in charge of the escort cleared his throat and bellowed in a parade ground voice so that all in the forum might hear him. ‘Most honourable Titus Pelonius Aufidius, magistrate of Asturica Augusta, I present Iskerbeles, the village headman of Guapacina, for your judgement on the charge of murdering Gaius Democles, the agent of Senator Lucius Annaeus in Rome. The murder took place on the Ides of the previous month, witnessed by myself and the men of the escort charged with protecting Democles. He now waits your judgement.’
The centurion smartly snapped his chin down in a swift bow of the head and stepped to one side as the magistrate descended a few steps so that he stood out from the other local senators and town officials, but still stood above the crowd gathered before him. Aufidius fixed his features in a disdainful expression as he surveyed their faces. There was no mistaking the broad spread of hostility there. From the crude attire and unkempt hair of many he deduced that the prisoner’s people were amongst the townsfolk, and they would not welcome what was to come. There might be trouble, the magistrate decided, and he was relieved that he had taken the precaution of having the rest of the auxiliary soldiers standing ready in the street to the side of the town’s senate house. Even though the first emperor, Augustus, had declared the pacification of Hispania nearly a hundred years earlier, that was only after two centuries of conflict. There were still some northern tribes who refused to genuflect to Rome, and many more who were recalcitrant at best, and would like nothing better than to throw off the Roman yoke that had proved such a burden. Indeed, Aufidius reflected, it was surprising that such a proud, warlike people had ever accepted the pax Romana. Peace was simply not in their nature.
Which was why they must be ruled with an iron rod. His brow creased sternly.
‘That you committed the crime is not in doubt. There were ample witnesses to the act. Therefore, I am obliged to pronounce a capital sentence. However, before I do so, in the name of Roman justice I give the condemned man one last chance to beg forgiveness for his actions and make his peace with the world before he passes into the shadows. Iskerbeles, have you any final words?’
The village chief’s jaw jutted out and he took a deep breath before he responded in a loud, clear voice. ‘Roman justice? I spit on Roman justice!’
The centurion raised his fist and made to strike but the magistrate waved him back. ‘No! Let him speak. Let him condemn himself even further in the eyes of the law and before these people!’
The soldier reluctantly resumed his position and Iskerbeles curled his lips in contempt before he continued. ‘The death of that accursed son of a whore freedman was natural justice. He came to our village to take our grain, our oil and everything of any value that we had. When we refused his demands, he threatened to take our children. He laid his hands on a son of our village, and so I slew him. By accident, not design.’
Aufidius shook his head. ‘It is of no consequence. The victim was acting in the course of his lawful duty. Calling in a debt on behalf of his master.’
‘The same master who made a loan to our vill
age when the harvest failed three years ago, and then raised the interest rate on every anniversary of the loan so that we could never repay him.’
The magistrate shrugged. ‘That may be so, but it is legal. You had an agreement with Senator Annaeus, through his agent. You knew the terms before you set your seal on the document on behalf of your people. Therefore the senator is acting within his rights to demand repayment in full.’
‘In full, plus interest. As much as half again of the original loan! How can we repay him? And nor are we alone in being the victims of this vile dog.’ Iskerbeles half-turned to address the crowd. ‘You all know the man I killed. The vile Democles, who cheated not just the people of my village, but almost every village in this region. His men had already seized hundreds of people from our tribe when they could not repay his master. Most are condemned to the mines in the hills. There they will labour until they die from exhaustion, or are buried alive in the deathtrap tunnels dug into the cliffs. No one here needs to be reminded of the horrors of those mines!’
Aufidius smiled. ‘And yet you seek to remind us. The fate of those condemned to the mines is well known, Iskerbeles. But that is the well-deserved punishment of all those who break the law.’
‘Hah! You speak of the law. The law thrust on us by our Roman masters. The law which is little more than a tool to justify the theft of our gold, our silver, our land, our homes and our liberty. Roman law is an affront to nature, a scourge on every last fibre of our dignity.’ He paused to glare at the crowd. ‘Who here is so low a creature that he will endure this shame? Are you all mangy dogs sunk to the depths of begging for scraps and licking the boots of those who whip and starve you into utter submission? Are there none who will stand against the tyranny of Rome . . . ? None?’
‘Down with Rome!’ a voice cried from the heart of the throng. Faces turned and looked round. Another voice took up the cry, and more added to the swelling anger. Then a man close to the front of the crowd shook his fist and shouted, ‘Death to Aufidius!’ He was a powerfully built man with a bald crown. He had a rolled shepherd’s cloak tied around his body and he punched his hand into the air and began to chant and those around him joined in.
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