Invictus

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘How about the garrison? How many fighting men can the town muster?’

  ‘There’s only the militia, sir. And a hundred or so boys in the young cadets. Five hundred in all, I would guess.’

  ‘You see?’ Ballinus intervened. ‘We have lost one town, and now a second is in danger, or may have already fallen. We must act. At once. You must lead your men against the rebels immediately, Legate.’

  Vitellius could not conceal his concern over the news and frowned. ‘I need time to think. To make plans.’

  ‘We haven’t got any time,’ Ballinus shot back. ‘You don’t know the worst of it yet.’

  ‘There’s more bad news?’ Macro muttered. ‘This is not looking like the pushover we were told it would be.’

  The governor clasped his chubby hands together. ‘There’s an imperial mine – Argentium – twenty miles from Lancia, in the hills. The largest in the region. It’s the collection point for all the silver from the surrounding mines. It’s this time of year that the bullion convoy is put together and sets off for Tarraco. If the rebels take the mine, and the convoy, then there will be nothing for the provincial treasury, and nothing to be remitted to Rome. The province, and the Emperor, depend on the silver to pay the troops, here and at Rome. If it’s lost . . .’

  He did not need to finish the train of thought. The danger was clear enough. Soldiers deprived of pay were inclined to complain. Worse still, they were inclined to look for new paymasters. Especially in the capital where the loyalty of the Praetorian Guard cohorts could be bought by any man with sufficient funds to bribe them. There were other threats too, Cato realised. With such a fortune in his hands, Iskerbeles could raise even more men to support his cause. The uprising would spread rapidly, across Terraconensis into the neighbouring provinces of Baetica and Lusitania. If that happened then Vitellius and his force would be overwhelmed, and nothing short of a vast army would be required to defeat the rebels and restore order. The trouble was, the Roman army was thinly stretched along the empire’s frontiers. To amass enough troops to pacify Hispania would mean stripping them from the frontier. Rome’s enemies would be sure to take advantage of the moment of weakness. Large though the Roman army was, and deadly in action, in truth its control over the empire depended upon a delicate balance of resources. Especially with the ongoing conflict in Britannia constantly draining the empire’s reserves. All this Cato grasped in a moment.

  ‘We can’t let the mine, and its treasure, fall into the rebels’ hands,’ Ballinus continued. ‘If it does, then we’ll answer for it with our heads.’

  Vitellius stared at him. ‘We?’

  ‘Of course. This is my province. That I will be held responsible is a given. But you can be sure that the commander of the force sent to suppress the revolt will be held equally accountable, if I have anything to do with it.’

  ‘Ah, I understand. This is blackmail, Ballinus. A very ugly attempt at blackmail, I may say.’

  ‘Not at all, Legate. I am simply underscoring the political realities of the situation.’ The governor sat back in his chair and folded his hands. ‘I think it would be wise if we co-operated to destroy Iskerbeles. It is in both our interests to do so.’

  Vitellius’ lips pressed tightly together as he controlled his anger and collected his thoughts. ‘What would you have me do? Send my men in to be destroyed piecemeal? I can do nothing until all my men are here.’

  ‘Strategy is your remit, my dear Vitellius. I am simply a politician.’

  Vitellius sneered and shook his head. ‘Coward.’

  There was a strained silence in the audience chamber, and then Cato coughed lightly. Vitellius turned to look at him.

  ‘You have something to offer, Prefect Cato?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ Vitellius sighed. ‘Spit it out, then.’

  Cato held his irritation in check and ordered his thoughts. ‘If Iskerbeles takes the mine then the consequences will be felt across the empire. So we cannot delay any attempt to prevent that. Whatever forces we have must be sent to secure the bullion.’ He turned to Cimber. ‘Do you know the mine?’

  The man nodded. ‘Yes, I have been there a few times. I have the grain contract, to feed the slaves.’

  ‘Good, then tell me, is it fortified in any way? I assume that there must be some walls to keep the slaves in.’

  ‘There is a slave compound, on the ledge above the mine, and then the mine itself is at the foot of the cliffs, with a river at its back, and a wall at one end.’

  ‘How many slaves are there?’

  Cimber made a quick estimate. ‘Around three thousand.’

  ‘And how many guards?’

  ‘Two hundred, maybe. There’s a century of auxiliary troops, and the rest are overseers. If the escort for the convoy has arrived, then that means another century will be there.’

  Cato nodded. ‘Enough men to defend the place for now. At least enough to discourage any rebel patrol that turns up. But not enough to withstand a determined attack.’

  ‘Which they will be sure to attempt,’ Vitellius cut in. ‘As soon as it occurs to them to go after the silver. If they haven’t taken the mine already.’

  ‘That’s if they know about the bullion, sir.’ Cato turned to the governor. ‘I take it that the existence of the bullion convoy isn’t advertised?’

  Ballinus sniffed. ‘Hardly. One whiff of it getting out and you can be sure that every band of brigands in the mountains would be breathing down their necks the moment they left the mine. The ingots are placed in the bottom of wagons and concealed beneath sacks of grain and olive oil amphorae. That way it looks like an ordinary military detachment on the march and doesn’t attract any unwanted local attention along the way.’

  ‘Right, so then it’s likely that Iskerbeles isn’t yet aware of the bullion.’ Cato paused as a thought occurred to him. ‘The slaves at the mine. I assume there’s a constant need for replacements. Where do they come from?’

  Cimber shrugged. ‘Most are brought in by slave contractors from Gigia, prisoners taken from the campaign in Britannia. Then there are those from the Astures tribe, sold into slavery as debt defaulters. Plenty of them lately. They’re Iskerbeles’ people. That’s one of the reasons why the area was ripe for revolt. Thanks to those bloodsucking money-lenders acting for their master in the Roman senate . . .’ Cimber’s eyes widened and he looked at the governor anxiously. ‘I meant no offence, sir. It’s just that Senator Annaeus’ men have been calling in debts for the last few months and they’ve foreclosed on several villages. That’s what sparked the uprising.’

  ‘That’s no excuse,’ Ballinus snapped. ‘The locals should have known what they were getting into when they took on the loans.’

  Cato knew better. The money-lenders were glib salesmen, keen to entrap their customers with promises of cheap loans that ultimately tied them into paying off the interest for the rest of their lives. That, or being forced to settle the debt by losing their chattels, their land, and even their liberty. He had seen enough money-lenders follow in the wake of the legions in Britannia to know how they worked. And the misery and trouble they could cause.

  ‘Then we can assume that Iskerbeles is going to move against the mines in the area, to free the people from his tribe that have been sold into slavery,’ said Cato. ‘He’s going to get round to taking Argentium at some point. If we’re lucky, he’ll go for the smaller mines first, building his strength from the slaves he liberates.’

  Vitellius gave a dry laugh. ‘And if we’re not lucky?’

  ‘Then we’re all in the shit, sir. But let’s assume we’re lucky since we have no choice in doing whatever we can to secure the bullion.’

  ‘What do you mean, Cato?’

  ‘You have to send the cohort camped outside Tarraco to the mine at once, sir. You can’t afford t
o waste a moment. The rest of your command can follow on when they land.’

  ‘One cohort of Praetorians against thousands of rebels? Are you mad? They’d be slaughtered.’

  Cato shook his head. ‘They don’t have to take on Iskerbeles, sir. They just have to secure the mine and hold out there until the rest of the column reaches Argentium.’

  ‘And if the rebels happen upon the cohort before the column reaches them?’

  ‘Then they defend the mine for as long as they can, and if it looks like the rebels are going to break in, the silver can be buried, or tipped into the river. Anything to keep it out of their hands. It can always be recovered later.’

  Vitellius looked down at the floor, deep in thought, until the governor broke the silence.

  ‘Your officer is right, Legate. You must lead your men to the mine at once. The rest can follow the instant they reach Tarraco. We have no choice but to do as he says.’

  All eyes turned to Vitellius expectantly and when he looked up Cato saw that there was a cold gleam in his expression.

  ‘Very well, the Praetorian cohort will march to Argentium at first light.’

  Ballinus looked relieved, and nodded. ‘Very good. I shall make sure that you and your men have all the provisions they need.’

  ‘I thank you. But I shall not be marching with the cohort. I will remain here to plan the campaign while I await the arrival of the rest of my forces. The cohort will need to be led by someone with the nerve and quick wits to cope with the unexpected, should anything go wrong.’

  Macro sucked in a breath and muttered. ‘Fuck, even I can see where this is going . . .’

  The legate half turned on his stool and faced Cato. ‘Prefect Cato. You are the best man for the job, in my opinion. I can think of no man I would prefer to see take on such a vital, and dangerous, mission. Due to the risks entailed, I insist that you are accompanied by the redoubtable Centurion Macro. Your orders are straight-forward. Take command of the Second Cohort of the Guard. Proceed directly to the mine at Argentium as swiftly as possible. I suggest that Cimber, here, goes with you. He knows the people and the area. He’ll be useful.’

  Cimber shook his head. ‘But I’m not a soldier.’

  ‘Fear not, my good fellow. You’ll come to no harm with Prefect Cato and his men protecting you.’

  ‘All the same, sir, I’d rather stay here in Tarraco.’

  ‘I am sure you would, but I require your service in assisting me to defeat the rebels. You will go with the cohort willingly, or in chains.’ Vitellius folded his hands and tapped his forefingers together. ‘If I were you, I’d choose to go willingly.’

  Cimber stared back and then nodded meekly.

  ‘Good man. Like the saying goes – one volunteer is worth ten pressed men.’ Vitellius turned his attention back to Cato. ‘Now then, Prefect, once you reach the mine you are to safeguard the bullion, and conceal it in the event that there is any danger of it falling into enemy hands. You are to remain there until I arrive with the rest of the column. Do you have any questions?’

  Cato shook his head, and then Macro raised a hand.

  ‘Well, Centurion?’

  ‘And what if this Iskerbeles gets to the mine before us, sir?’

  Vitellius smiled faintly. ‘If that happens, Centurion Macro, then I expect you to attack at once and retake the mine, whatever the odds against you.’

  Macro frowned. ‘That could be suicide, sir.’

  ‘In that event, I would be sure to commend your sacrifice when I report back to Rome. Perhaps there might be another decoration to add to your fine spear, albeit posthumously.’

  Macro nodded. ‘Fuck you very much, sir.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath as some of the other officers glanced at the centurion but Macro remained deadpan and Vitellius’ eyes narrowed briefly before he took a long breath.

  ‘You have your orders, Prefect Cato. You can assume command of the cohort at once.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘May the Gods be with you, Prefect. For if you fail then no one will have mercy on you. Not Iskerbeles, and if by some miracle you escape the enemy, you can expect no mercy from me, nor the Emperor, nor the people of Rome. So, do this well, or die in the attempt.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘The bastard’s stitched us up like a pair of kippers,’ Macro growled as they marched through the tent lines of the Second Praetorian Cohort, in their camp outside the walls of Tarraco. The soldiers immediately around them stood and exchanged salutes with the officers as they strode past. There was noticeably more formality than was the case with the legionaries that Cato and Macro had served with in previous campaigns. The goatskin tents were not stained and patched like those of the legions and appeared to have been taken directly from the Guards’ stores, unused. Their armour and shields had the same look, gleaming, with not a spot of rust in evidence.

  ‘Orders are orders, Macro. Ours is not to reason why.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You know full well why Vitellius picked us for the job. Chances are we’ll march slap bang into the rebel army and be cut to pieces. Even if we reach the mine first, Iskerbeles will hear of it soon enough and come to find us. Same result. We’re for the chop, and all these lads along with us. Fuck . . .’ They walked on in silence a few paces before Macro glanced at his friend. ‘You don’t seem duly pissed off with our lot.’

  ‘Like I said, orders.’

  As they approached the headquarters area in the heart of the camp the two Praetorians on duty at the entrance to the largest tent presented their spears and stood aside to let them pass. They ducked under the flap and several clerks instantly rose from around the large campaign table where they had been working.

  ‘At ease.’ Cato looked round. ‘Who is the senior officer in the cohort?’

  ‘Centurion Gnaeus Lucullus Pulcher, sir,’ one of the clerks replied. ‘There’s a tribune attached to us as well.’

  ‘And who are you?’ Cato demanded.

  The clerk snapped to attention. ‘Optio Metellus, First Century, Second Cohort, sir.’

  ‘Right then, Metellus, I am Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato. The legate has just appointed me to command the cohort. This is Centurion Macro, my second in command. I want Pulcher, the tribune and all the other centurions and optios to come to headquarters at once.’

  The optio quickly recovered from his surprise at this turn of events. ‘Fetch the officers, yes, sir.’

  He hurried out of the tent and Cato turned to one of the other clerks. ‘You, take two men and go down to the port. There’s a trireme just arrived from Ostia. Have my kit, and that of the centurion, brought here. The rest of you, outside.’

  Once the tent was empty Macro sat on one of the stools and set his helmet down on the table. ‘The lads in the camp look tidy enough. I wonder how they’re going to cope with several days of forced marching. Especially since they’ve done bugger all but lounge around in Rome for the last few years.’

  Cato folded his arms. ‘Not all of ’em. Some will have transferred from the legions. They’ll set the standard for the rest. And despite what you think, even the Praetorians have stiff selection standards. They’ll do well enough . . . They’d better.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Macro thought a moment. ‘This is everything that Vitellius could wish for. He’s got us out here with him, and now he can send us right into the heart of danger and if we survive then he’ll claim the credit for a prompt decision to save the bullion. If we find ourselves in the thick of it, then we’ll do our best to hide the bullion and he’ll take the credit for that too. Of course, our heads will be decorating the gateposts of some tribesman’s settlement, but hey ho. Bloody bollocks. If the Emperor awards us another silver spear for giving our lives for Rome, I’ll tell you where I’d stick it.’

  Cato cocked his head
. ‘Posthumously? Good luck with that. But you’re right. We’re at his mercy while we’re here. I can’t help wondering why he insisted on having us assigned to his command.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Cato. It’s clear as day. The bastard hates our guts. We’ve crossed swords with him on many occasions in the past. Too many occasions. And now he’s taking his revenge. He picked us for this little excursion so he could drag us off to some dusty corner of the empire and have one of his men do us in. As things stand, it could be the rebels who get to do the deed for him and he returns home with his hands clean.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s it,’ Cato responded. ‘It’s a lot of effort to go to to get rid of us when he really has no need to. When he has tried to kill us, it’s because we stood in the way of his plans. There’s no point in doing that now.’

  Macro shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s clearing the decks for the future, in case we stand in his way again.’

  ‘But we might just as easily be of use to him alive.’ Cato frowned. ‘In any case, there’s something odd about some of the other officers he has picked to serve under him.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘When I spoke with them on the voyage over from Ostia, they were puzzled by their selection. They’re not part of Vitellius’ circle. Indeed, they’ve even opposed him in the past.’

  Macro scratched his jaw. ‘That don’t make sense. Why surround yourself with men you can’t trust? What’s his game?’

  Cato closed his eyes and lowered his head for a moment. He was still weary from the restless state in which he had endured the sea journey and had to struggle to concentrate. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe it isn’t about Vitellius at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Cato tried to force his weary mind to concentrate. ‘What if picking us and the other officers has more to do with getting us away from Rome for some reason?’

  ‘What reason? Come on, Cato, you’re not making much sense.’

  Cato blinked his tired eyes open and looked at Macro. ‘I don’t know exactly. But I’m sure Vitellius is up to something. Or if not him, then he’s acting for someone else.’