“Soldiers,” Fergus’s voice boomed out across the parade ground. “I am proud to have led you into battle this past year. We have been through a lot. You have all proved yourselves worthy. Let no man ever dispute that. Wherever you met the enemy you proved victorious. That is a credit to yourselves and your officers. In this grand conflict, that has already lasted nearly three long years, we have played only a small part, but for us this war was never about maps and territory. We fought for each other. We fought for the honour of the legion. We fought for the glory of Rome and our gods.”
Fergus paused as his stern gaze swept across the massed ranks of legionaries. The men were staring straight back at him.
“Often alone, outnumbered and besieged we watched and waited as the enemy tried to annihilate us, only to be thrown back,” Fergus continued in a loud voice. “Yes, we lost good friends and comrades, all of us did. But we came back after long months, from the jaws of death and out of the mouth of hell, while all of Rome wondered, when shall the reputation and courage of the men of the Fourth Scythica fail. With your actions, courage and resolve you have set an example of what it means to be a legionary of the Fourth. An example that I am sure is being talked about in the halls of the gods and the abodes of our forefathers. An example that will act as inspiration for future generations. When in the long years to come, men come to talk about us they shall look back on what we have done and say, “do not despair, do not yield to doubt, remember the men who captured Seleucia and Doura, who killed prince Sanatruces and who brought back their vexillation banner in good order. They marched straight forward, and they died if need be – unconquered. They brought honour to the Fourth Scythica. That is what you have achieved. That is all that could ever be asked of you. That is your victory!”
As Fergus fell silent his eyes swept over the troops standing stiffly to attention on the sandy exercise ground. Not a sound could be heard. Then slowly at first, but swiftly gaining in strength, the legionaries began to stamp their boots on the ground and a cry rose that was taken up by hundreds upon hundreds of voices.
“It is yours,” the legionaries cried out, “it is yours. This is your victory Fergus. This is your victory.”
Swiftly the chanting changed, and the men began to call out Fergus’s name as they stamped their feet on the ground.
***
As Fergus finally finished his verbal report and debrief, the stuffy and packed room inside the camp’s principia, HQ, remained silent. Out in the corridor and crowding around the doorway into the office were more officers and men, all eager and keen to hear what he had to say. Reaching out to his cup of wine, Fergus took a sip. The vexillation had been away for nearly a year and Fergus sensed that many of the officers and men wanted to know what had become of friends and comrades who’d not returned. Around him in the cramped legate’s office, a host of sombre looking senior officers remained silent as they pondered what had been said. Some of the tribunes were gazing down at the floor whilst others were fidgeting with their cups. At last, Gellius the legate, motioned for the slaves to refill the officer’s cups.
“You brought back the vexillation standard,” Gellius said, turning to Fergus and breaking the oppressive silence. “That’s all that truly matters. This war was ill conceived from the start, but no one can find fault with the performance of the Fourth. You did well Fergus. I am going to give you and all your officers and men a three-day pass starting at midnight tonight.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Fergus replied stiffly.
“The latest news that I have is that Trajan is besieging Hatra,” Gellius growled as he turned towards a large map that hung from one of the walls. “I would have given you and your men a longer period of leave, but the situation is serious. I need every man that I have got. Most of the rebellious cities in Northern Mesopotamia have been recaptured, but Armenia is still in a state of open revolt and I doubt that spineless boy Prince Parthamaspates is going to last long in Ctesiphon, when King Osroes returns to claim his throne. If Osroes does overthrow our Parthian puppet, then Trajan is going to have to make peace with Parthia or plan a new invasion. My money is on a peace treaty, especially if the emperor listens to Hadrian. Osrhoene too, is still an unsettled kingdom,” Gellius growled, as he tapped the map with his fingers. “Eight of our cohorts are spread out across the territory trying to maintain law and order. It’s a mug’s job. The locals clearly don’t want us there. Trade and commerce have all but ground to a halt. There is no tax money coming in and my men are exhausted. There was some sporadic fighting when the uprisings started, but since Quietus sacked Edessa things have calmed down. Still I expect that we shall have to abandon Osrhoene soon.”
“Why is that Sir?” Fergus asked with a frown.
“Our manpower is being stretched to the limit,” Gellius replied sourly. “The troops are needed everywhere at the same time. Have you not heard? Uprisings have not only taken place in Mesopotamia and Armenia but across all our eastern provinces. It feels like they have been coordinated. Probably by the Parthians and their allies. There is rebellion in Egypt, Cyrenaica, Cyprus and Judea. Many of the uprisings are being led by the Jews. On Cyprus they massacred the non-Jewish population. Tens of thousands have died; whole towns destroyed. Quietus has been despatched to Judea to put down the revolt there. It’s a fucking mess and it’s not helped by the fact that Trajan’s health is rapidly declining. Some think he will not survive the summer and if the War Party refuse to accept Hadrian as the next emperor, we could be looking at civil war - gods forbid.”
Tactfully Fergus lowered his gaze to the floor and resisted the temptation to speak his mind. Had he not warned Hadrian about the potential for serious unrest and rebellion financed by Parthian gold? Had he not implored his patron to take his warnings seriously? And what had Hadrian done about it. Absolutely nothing. For instability in the east seemed to suit Hadrian. It meant he could argue for a defensive military strategy, a key aspect of the Peace Party’s grand strategy.
“So, what happened to Britannicus?” Gellius asked softening his tone as he turned to face Fergus.
In reply Fergus stooped and rummaged around in his personal kit before placing the bag containing Britannicus’s ashes on the table for all to see.
“He died leading the assault on a Parthian fort,” Fergus said, as he looked down at the bag. “He died leading from the front. I had his body cremated and have promised to return his mortal remains to his family in Londinium. He was a brave man and a good soldier.”
Sombrely Gellius and the officers in the room stared at the bag. Not a man made a sound. Then at last the legate sighed and looked away.
“One more thing before you go on leave Fergus,” Gellius said, snapping his fingers at a slave and sending him off to fetch something. “Ten days ago, an imperial messenger arrived here carrying a letter for you. He had come all the way from Antioch. You had better read it. It looks important. The letter carries Hadrian’s personal stamp.”
***
“What are you going to do with your leave?” Fergus asked, as he and Dio strode alone across the open exercise ground of the Roman fortress.
“I am going to take my dog for a walk along the Euphrates,” Dio replied with a serious looking face. “The bitch will have missed me. After that I don’t know. Some of the officers are planning a visit to Zeugma but I am not so sure I will join them. It would be good to spend some time alone. Maybe I will go fishing.”
Fergus nodded and for a few moments the two of them remained silent as they strode across the exercise yard. As they reached the street leading to the fortress gates Fergus came to a halt.
“Well I’m afraid our paths diverge from here,” Fergus said, forcing a grin onto his face. “I am going home to see my family. I will catch up with you in three days.”
Dio too had come to a halt and for a moment the old veteran gazed down at the sand in silence as if lost in thought. Then he looked up.
“That was a good speech,” Dio muttered. “A damn fine speech
. The men liked that. Thank you and for what it’s worth it has been a privilege and an honour to serve under you, Sir. You led us into battle and you brought us home again. The men will remember that. I will remember that.”
Then swiftly and without warning Dio straightened up and saluted and, as Fergus returned the salute, for a moment the two officers stood stiffly to attention facing each other in the street. At last Dio nodded, turned and quickly strode away without saying a further word.
***
As Fergus caught sight of the lonely villa on the banks of the Euphrates he sighed with relief. The stone building looked undamaged. It was getting late and around him darkness was closing in rapidly. Resisting the growing anticipation and excitement he brought his horse to a halt and gazed at the villa, savouring the moment. Beyond the house the wide peaceful waters of the Euphrates were just visible, and the gardens looked in good shape. Idly his fingers reached up to touch the iron amulet around his neck that Galena had given him all those years ago, when as a young decanus he’d left for the German frontier. The amulet had powerful magic that would protect him. A good luck-charm and so it had proved up till now. On his belt hung Corbulo’s old gladius and the bag containing Britannicus’s ashes. Sharing the horse with him was Hera, the Parthian slave girl from Seleucia. The little girl had not said a word since they had left the legionary fortress and even though they could not talk to each other he sensed that she knew where they were going. The girl was nervous and kept picking at her fingernails.
Urging his horse onwards Fergus started out towards the villa. As he approached a sudden excited shriek rent the evening air and two young girls came charging out of the doorway towards him. Catching sight of Briana and Efa, Fergus grinned and hastily dismounted, leaving Hera sitting alone on the horse. His daughters were crying out in excitement and joy as they rushed up to him flinging their arms around his waist. Lifting them both up, Fergus laughed with joy. Then another startled cry erupted from within the villa and moments later Galena, carrying young Athena and together with Gitta and Aina, came rushing out of the doorway towards him. As she reached him Fergus caught sight of tears in Galena’s eyes. Hastily and silently his wife buried her face into his chest, clinging to him tightly, her whole body shaking. Fergus chuckled, as for a moment all he could do was remain standing upright as Galena and his girls pressed around him, their joy and relief nearly overwhelming him. His daughters were speaking so fast and through each other, that it was impossible to answer any of their questions. Instead Fergus affectionately lowered his face until it was resting on Galena’s head. The stress of not knowing for a year what had become of him, seemed to have taken a toll on Galena. His wife was sobbing silently, her body trembling as she refused to look up at him.
Gently Fergus broke free from the embraces and turned to look at Hera. Briana and Efa too had noticed the slave girl sitting on the horse and were gazing up at Hera with curious, uncertain expressions.
“This is Hera,” Fergus said. “She is a Parthian slave and will be joining our household. She does not speak any Latin or Greek. You are all to treat her with respect. She saved my life in Seleucia.”
Close by, Briana and Efa exchanged startled glances with each other.
“She is welcome in our house and we will teach her our language,” Galena said in a hoarse voice, as she turned to look at the slave girl. “Come inside Fergus,” Galena added, as she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to look up at him with a sudden smile that broke through like a ray of sunlight on a rainy day. “There is much that we need to talk about. There has been news from Kyna on Vectis. A letter has come. But gods am I happy to have you back with us. You have no idea how hard it is to sit here waiting and wondering whether or not you will be coming home.”
***
The night was already far advanced when Fergus slipped out of bed. Try as he may he could not sleep. Under the sheets Galena muttered something but she did not wake up. In the villa all was quiet. Everyone seemed asleep. Leaving his wife in bed Fergus, stark naked, silently moved from the bedroom and out onto the garden terrace. The night air was cool and along the banks of the Euphrates in the distance a few man-made lights were glowing in the dark. Looking up at the night sky, he grunted at the amazing array of brilliant stars. It was a truly wonderous sight. Lowering his gaze, he sighed and peered out across the dark and wide river. Galena had been right to say that there had been news from Kyna, his mother, on Vectis. The letter however had been nearly eighteen months old when it had finally been delivered. In it Kyna had confirmed what Aledus had already told him when he’d met him in Antioch a year ago. That she and Marcus had been forced to leave Rome and return unexpectedly to Vectis and that the future was uncertain. That Nigrinus, leader of the War Party and one of the most powerful men in Rome, seemed hell bent on killing Marcus and destroying the family. The news was a disaster, a reversal of fortune that he could still barely comprehend. Kyna too, had written about Elsa’s betrayal and the outrageous news that Armin, Elsa’s little brother, had also disappeared together with the bulk of the gold coins which he, Fergus had brought back from Dacia. Marcus had kept the gold at the farm on Vectis for safekeeping and its loss was a severe blow. It meant for starters that Marcus’s position on the senatorial lists was now under threat, because to qualify for a seat on the senate a man had to prove he had wealth of over a million denarii. Wealth the family no longer possessed. Kyna had ended her letter by saying that Marcus was going to try and find Armin and recover the gold fortune. But that had been nearly eighteen months ago. Anything could have happened since then. Nigrinus could have succeeded and murdered his whole family by now. Moodily Fergus rubbed his eyes. Marcus, his father had to solve this feud with Nigrinus by himself. He’d gotten himself into this mess and he needed to get himself out of it too. Slowly he shook his head in dismay. Marcus had sent Aledus to find him and ask for his help, but there was precious little he could do from the other side of the world. All he had been able to do was send a message to his father telling him to have hope and at the same time plead with Hadrian to use his influence to protect Marcus and his family on Vectis. Had it been enough? Had it worked? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know whether Hadrian was aware of his plight or had decided to help him.
At the thought of Hadrian, he suddenly remembered the letter that Gellius had given him. In the emotion and excitement of seeing his family again he had completely forgotten about it. Quietly he stole back into the villa, found his tunic and cloak and retrieved the sealed papyrus scroll. Appearing back on the terrace, clutching a small oil lamp, Fergus sat down on a chair, placed the lamp on a table and turned to study the wax seal. The imprint was Hadrian’s all right. He easily recognised that stamp. Maybe here at last was Hadrian’s answer to his pleas to help his family. Gently breaking the seal, Fergus slowly unrolled the letter and in the flickering light of the lamp he started to read.
Adalwolf to Fergus,
Greetings old friend. I trust that this letter finds you well and in good health for I have good news for you. Hadrian has instructed me to write to you to tell you that in his capacity as the emperor’s official deputy he has promoted you to legate of the Twentieth Legion based at Deva Victrix in Britannia. Your promotion has been confirmed by Trajan. Hadrian wishes you to take up your new post as legate with immediate effect. You are to present this letter to the Governor of Britannia upon your arrival in Londinium. He may have further instructions for you. Letters have already been despatched to Deva to alert the legion to the change in commanders. So dearest friend, as you see Hadrian has come through for you in the end. He will of course expect your loyalty and that of your troops when he becomes the next emperor, but I have assured him that in this respect he has nothing to fear from you. I remain your faithful friend, Adalwolf.
With a trembling hand Fergus lowered the letter onto the table and as he did a fierce blush of pride shot across his cheeks. Legate of the Twentieth Legion. He had been promoted to legate of the Twentieth. That h
ad been his dream and ambition from the moment he had joined the legion as an eighteen-year old youth straight out of basic training. And now he had made it. The dream had become a reality. He had risen to the very top. He had gone from being an ordinary legionary to commander of the Twentieth. It was some achievement. Slowly Fergus exhaled and tried to steady his breathing. Then abruptly he turned to look up at the stars. What would Corbulo, his grandfather, make of this? There was no way of knowing for sure, but it was a good bet that tonight, Corbulo would be proud, very, very proud of him indeed. Fergus raised his hand to his mouth. And that was what it had always been about. To make something of himself. To make his grandfather proud. And now he had.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Galena said suddenly from the doorway into their bedroom. As she emerged into the light from the lamp she frowned as she saw him sitting at the table, stark naked.
“What is it?” Galena added in alarm, as she suddenly caught sight of the scroll.
Fergus was gazing up at his wife. Then he grinned.
“We are going back to Britannia,” he said as he rose to his feet and came towards Galena. “Hadrian has promoted me to legate of the Twentieth Legion. We are going back to Deva Victrix, all of us.”
Chapter Fourteen - Resolve
Summer 115 AD
The fresh sea breeze was buffeting the Hermes’s red sail and the choppy waves were slapping into her prow, making the ship pitch and roll and sending fine white spray flying over the deck. The groaning and creaking of the timbers was accompanied by the screeching of the sea gulls as they rose and dived down on the ship. High up at the top of the mast, the proud pennant depicting the face of Hermes - messenger of the gods, was streaming in the wind. Standing alone by the bow of the small grain vessel, Marcus held onto the rigging and gazed out across the sea at the coastline of the Isle of Vectis, a mile away. He looked old, gaunt and his cheeks were unshaven. Yet despite his age there was a toughness and a flinty hardness in his eyes. A simple brown cloak was fixed around his neck by a broach. Hanging from his belt was an army pugio and on his fingers several rings gleamed in the noon sun. Without taking his eyes off the coastline, Marcus slowly reached out with his right hand to rub the three remaining fingers on his left and try to stop the uncontrollable shaking in his left arm. The strange and worrying trembling of his arm had started in Rome soon after he’d become aware of Elsa’s betrayal. He should have gone to a doctor but there had been no time.
Veterans of Rome (Book 9 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 16
