by Peter Tonkin
Antony was typically mercurial but unusually verbose because he had consumed most of the contents from the wine flask on the map table. Artemidorus had no real idea of its origin, strength or age. But he had heard that if one brought a flame close enough to the surface of Falernian wine, it would catch fire. And there was certainly no arguing with its effect.
The four of them – the Antonii brothers, Enobarbus and Artemidorus, were seated in the makeshift tablinum office area of Antony’s tent. Grouped round the table which held no papers or food. Just another flagon of that lethal Falernian. Likewise the secretaries’ tables were still vacant. This was a secret briefing. Any records that might be made in the end would come from Antony – and through the filter of their plan’s outcomes. Its success or otherwise. Who, if anybody, survived its execution.
‘I think time will achieve that objective, General,’ observed Artemidorus. ‘They simply cannot stay friends for much longer. The more Cicero tries to control Octavian, the less Octavian likes it. And it seems to me that controlling Octavian is Cicero’s strongest suit. It’s almost all that’s keeping him in a position of power and influence in the Senate, in fact. As Decimus seems to have stopped obeying him while Governors Pollio and Plancus are only making a show of obedience, as General Lepidus observed. While Brutus and Cassius also seem reluctant to bring whatever forces they have amassed out of the east and into Italy.’
‘All this,’ emphasised Enobarbus, ‘during a politically unstable time which results from the deaths of the Consuls Hirtius and Pansa at Mutina. It could be argued that technically the Senate can’t meet until new consuls are appointed...’
‘So,’ said Antony’s brother Lucius. ‘Septem goes to Octavian with some cunningly worded letters from you, eh Marcus? And pouf! They are at war. Alight like Greek Fire! And Cicero hasn’t really got a leg to stand on because no-one has imperium to raise Senatorial or Consular legions now that the two consuls Hirtius and Pansa are dead. That’s all there is to it?’
The other three looked at him. Artemidorus felt some affection for the man because they had both been gladiators in the past. Though they had never fought in the same circus because Lucius had trained and battled in Hispania. But he simply did not have the intelligence or acuity of his two brothers. Which was why he was here with Antony while Gaius was acting as Governor of Macedonia. Unless Brutus and his legions had managed to defeat him already.
‘You have the final objective clear enough, brother,’ said Antony indulgently. ‘But it’s not a mission to be completed just like that!’ He snapped his fingers. ‘No indeed! Whether it holds together when things get tough or not, we need to start with a plan...’
***
‘Iter primus, first stage,’ said Enobarbus sometime later, ‘Is to get through the mountains. You will need guides and possibly disguises. And probably some kind of escort. Word is coming down of Decimus’ legions running out of control up there.’ Frowning, he looked around the faces of the men and women assembled in the big tent housing the extended contubernium.
‘Gretorex will be able to advise on that,’ said Artemidorus. ‘He knows the passes. He knows the locals. I’ll wager he knows what’s going on as well as anybody does. He can supply information, horses and, if necessary, disguises. And an escort as you say.’
‘Then, second stage.’ Enobarbus continued. ‘You have to get round or creep through Decimus’ lines...’
‘Two things there,’ said Artemidorus. ‘First, if Plancus has joined Decimus, then the General needs to know – so we may need to do a little intelligence gathering – then send someone back with details of whatever we’ve established.’
‘Intelligence gathering sounds like a job for me,’ rumbled Furius. ‘All I’ll need is one captive and we’ll have all the intelligence we need. Guaranteed.’
‘Whoever Gretorex lends us can come back with a message once Furius has practised his skills as an interrogator,’ said Puella. ‘They’ll have run out of usefulness by then in any case. We won’t need any more guiding. Or guarding, if the gods are with us.’
‘Good point,’ nodded Artemidorus. ‘But it would be a waste of an excellent chance to do some mischief if we just go round the enemy lines without sewing a little discord. No matter what intelligence Furius helps us to collect.’
‘You can be generous with promises,’ said Enobarbus. ‘That will tempt a good many if you drop your honey in the right ears.’
‘And there may even be some gold that we can invest in bribing a centurion or two,’ suggested Ferrata. ‘Centurions are notoriously open to that sort of thing...’
He rocked back on his stool and easily avoided the amiable punch the centurion Artemidorus threw his way, but moved into Puella’s reach so she slapped him on the back of the head instead.
‘And checking whether Octavian is up to the same game come to that,’ said Enobarbus pointedly ignoring the childish byplay. ‘Word is he has been extremely generous with promises – and has the gold to back them up.’
‘Though I thought you told me Octavian’ spies were being run by Agrippa and Maecenas,’ said Ferrata, rubbing the back of his head.
‘True enough,’ nodded Enobarbus.
‘That’s something else we can check on the ground, surely,’ suggested Kyros.
‘Yes it is,’ agreed Enobarbus.
‘Get our hands on one of them, and see what a little gentle persuasion can do, like I say,’ repeated Furius the torturer. ‘Then the job will be done. Quick and easy.’
‘As long as it’s not too noisy and messy,’ concluded Artemidorus. ‘I’ve seen all too clearly what carnifexes can do.’
iv
Artemidorus took over the briefing then. ‘Stage three. We get across Gallia Cisalpinus...’
‘Get onto the Via Placentia and then on down the Via Aemilia to Bononia,’ said Mercury knowledgeably, having carried messages along routes like this before succumbing to the twin lures of gold and Puella and turning traitor to Octavian, whose secret messenger he had been.
‘Then we just stroll into Octavian’s camp?’ asked Venus, who was well recovered from yesterday’s injury. Used to getting into anywhere she wanted with a winning smile and the bat of an exquisite eyelid.
‘Or Septem does,’ added Adonis.
‘Yes,’ said Enobarbus. ‘Septem does. Just like Antony strolled into Lepidus’ camp last month. Bold as brass. Because of the following:’ The tribune began to count off reasons on his fingers. ‘Octavian knows Septem.’ One finger down. ‘Knows and trusts him as the General’s messenger.’ Second finger down.
‘Knows him as the man who saved him at Mutina,’ added Ferrata. The tribune folded a third finger down, nodding agreement.
‘Which may not be quite as positive as it sounds,’ warned Artemidorus. ‘Octavian is young but he’s no fool. He’s suspicious by nature. All the more so given what happened to his adoptive father Divus Julius. A helping hand from an enemy centurion may seem too good to be true. He’ll be looking for some way I pulled off a deception...’
‘And in any case,’ observed Puella wisely, ‘he’s surrounded by men who might be jealous of Septem’s actions. They’re all young, ambitious and jockeying for position like the Greens and the Reds at the races in the Circus Maximus. Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa might have wanted to ride to his best friend’s rescue. Or Salvidienus Rufus. Or Gaius Maecenas.’
‘Who can be devious and deeply untrustworthy,’ agreed Enobarbus. ‘But the element that should swing things our way, to begin with at least, is the fact that Septem will be carrying passes and official letters from Antony suggesting that the pair of them – three if we count Lepidus – should get together for a conference...’ He folded down his fourth finger and closed his thumb over them to make a fist.
‘Right,’ said Quintus. ‘That sounds like a plan. Now all we have to do is get the backing, the transport, the disguises, the escort, the supplies, the maps, the passes, the letters, the documents and the weapons we need in order to make it
work.’
‘Talking of supplies,’ said Ferrata, ‘I think I’ll go and see if I can scare up some cena. My belly’s flapping against my backbone like a trireme’s sail in a dead calm.’ He pulled himself to his feet and strode out, followed by the others.
Until only Enobarbus and Artemidorus remained. ‘But first,’ said the spy to the spymaster, ‘we have to decide who, beside the slaves, drivers, escorts and guides we can trust to go on the mission alongside me. ‘
***
It’s a balance,’ continued Artemidorus a little later. ‘The people we’ve recruited most recently have skills we need.’
‘That’s why they were recruited,’ agreed Enobarbus and Quintus nodded agreement. The three of them were now in the tribune’s tent which was otherwise empty. Grouped around a table bearing three bowls of fish stew, a modest flagon of watered wine and three small goblets. When their discussion came to any sort of a conclusion there would be several contenders to create an official record of what they decided – beginning with Adonis.
At this stage, however, secrecy was paramount.
‘But,’ said the centurion and spy, ladling some poached perch into his mouth, ‘the new recruits haven’t really been tested. We don’t know who we can rely on. They all talk a good fight – but how will they behave if it comes to sword-work?’
‘This is a fine opportunity to try them out,’ observed the tribune and spymaster. ‘If you keep a careful eye on them, nothing much should go wrong. If the worst happens, you could always set Puella on them. Then they’ll either do or die.’
‘A pious hope,’ growled Quintus, their triarius and equipment officer; the last vital component in the contubernium’s command structure. ‘And, now I come to think of it, what guarantee do we have that they’re not actually working for Decimus, Octavian or the Senate in the same way as we’re working for the General – under cover?’
‘Counter-spies or cowards, the answer’s still the same,’ said Enobarbus. He drew his thumb across his throat. ‘You still have that almost magic dagger which Brutus’ mother Servilia brought in from the far, far, East, Septem. The one that Brutus used to kill Caesar. That slits gullets more effectively than anything I’ve ever seen.’
‘Right,’ said Artemidorus. ‘So the section of our contubernium, the crypteia or hit-squad, that comes on the General’s secret mission will be: Me, because I’m the only one with the required access to Octavian. Ferrata and Puella to watch my back. Hercules to watch theirs. And if Hercules comes, then we can afford to leave Kyros here for the time-being. Furius, because we might need his particular skills. Notus rather than Adonis because they’re both equally good with codes and communications but I don’t want to risk taking Venus. No matter how you look at her, she’s too much of a distraction. She pulls in men like honey pulls flies. So does Puella but at least she’s happy to wear full armour. A breastplate to flatten her bosom and a helmet with flaps that cover her face. Mercury, because after Gretorex’ cavalry has guided us through the mountains, he’s the one who best knows the way across Gallia Cisalpinus from the far side of the Alps and down to Bononia.’
‘But he used to be Octavian’s man,’ objected the tribune. ‘Won’t it be risky taking him into Octavian’s camp?’
‘I don’t think so. Remember, his face was wounded and disfigured at the battle of Mutina. I genuinely doubt his mother would recognise him now, let alone Octavian or any of his legionaries.’
‘Good point. As long as he’s actually as faithful to you – and to Puella – as he seems. It’s still just possible he’s really been working for Octavian all along, you know. But as I said, this is the best time to find out the truth. So he goes. And there’s room for one more...’
Artemidorus turned to the old legionary. ‘Quintus? It’s either you or Kyros. Your choice.’
‘The boy is quick-thinking and adaptable, capable of carrying off a range of disguises,’ allowed Quintus. ‘I’ll never appear to be anything other than what I am.’
‘So, if we choose Kyros, we go one way – all disguised. In the mountains at least.’ Artemidorus nodded. ‘But if you agree to come, then we go another – some disguised as Gauls and some dressed in legionary uniform.’
‘Which approach is the most useful and adaptable?’ asked Enobarbus. Then he answered his own question. ‘I’d say all in disguise...’
‘Not necessarily,’ answered Artemidorus thoughtfully. ‘We know there are supposed to be Decimus’ legions loose up there, so soldiers won’t necessarily stand out. But they could legitimately be carrying a whole range of weapons that Gauls would have to explain if stopped. That would look suspicious under almost all circumstances – maybe fatally so. Especially as only a few of us speak any Gaulish. But, depending on circumstance again, the group could present themselves as Romans with Gaulish escort or prisoners. Or Gauls with Roman prisoners. Or units from both sides working together. That’s the way I’d prefer to go. If you want to come with us, Quintus. And, of course, once we’re through the mountains, we could discard all disguises because a squad of soldiers shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows at all. Finally, now I think of it, I’d place a considerable wager on the probability that a long-service man like you, Quintus, will know – and, unlike Kyros, be known by - a fair number of Octavian’s troops into the bargain.’
‘And that would be a good thing, would it?’ asked Quintus ironically but rhetorically.
v
Antony’s cavalry legate Gretorex, the leader of the Gaulish auxiliaries, was bored. Manoeuvres and mock battles were tediously anaemic as far as he was concerned. But he didn’t have enough men or horses to risk spilling real blood. Besides, he had a soft spot for Puella because she had beaten him in weapons training almost as often as she had beaten Artemidorus. He had been so impressed with her the first time she did so that he had renamed her Spiritum Bellatrix, Ghost Warrior Woman – the name she used when she rode with his command. So he elected to select a small squad of his best men and guide Artemidorus, Puella and their friends through the mountains himself. A day of preparation, a good night’s sleep and they were ready to go. Except for the final checks and adjustments. And breakfast.
Gretorex was a mountainous man with long, braided moustaches that matched his mane of bright golden hair. He wore a heavy checked shirt and a short woollen cloak – even though the weather was Summery and sultry. Long woollen trousers and an impressive range of swords, daggers and axes.
Artemidorus, Quintus and he oversaw the loading of the pack animals by a team of trusty slaves – Gretorex wide-eyed with simple awe at the range of weaponry the horses’ packs contained. Then they widened even further at the sight of the provisions being loaded into the carts they were taking with them. ‘Not planning to live off the land then, I see...’
‘Antony tried that on the way over here last month remember,’ said Artemidorus. ‘Ended up eating tree-bark and drinking horse-piss.’
‘Where in the name of Belenus did you get all this stuff? Not from the General, that’s certain.’
‘Some from Bassus and the rest from Lepidus. They’re both well-equipped and fully stocked.’
‘Carts will limit the passes available to us...’
‘I know. But...’ Even though they were working in an isolated part of the camp, well away from inquisitive ears and spying eyes, Artemidorus lifted a plank from the flatbed of the last unladen cart to reveal a leather sack.
‘Even if that’s what I think it is,’ said Gretorex, ‘it’s still most likely to be the food they’ll be after...’
‘Hence,’ said Quintus, ‘the weaponry in the horses’ packs.’
‘Which you’ll never have a chance to get at in an ambush...’
Gretorex hadn’t finished speaking before Quintus’ dagger was at his throat. ‘As well as what’s in the packs,’ he explained as though to a backward child, ‘we’ll each carry a gladius, a pugio like the one tickling your gullet, and a sling in our belts, a spada at our saddle-bow and a bow on our ba
cks. Ferrata, Hercules and I will be carrying solenon reticulated bows with barrels to aim along for greater range and accuracy. The same weapons the Parthians used to destroy Marcus Licinius Crassus, his sons and his legions. Some of the others have elected to bring their pila spears. Oh and I believe Puella has misused her position as Ghost Warrior Woman to borrow a couple of axes from your men. Those should keep things under control while we break out the big stuff.’
‘Yes,’ said Gretorex, just stopping himself from nodding agreement and slitting his own throat in consequence. ‘I do believe it will.’
‘Stop playing around, you two,’ said Artemidorus with mock severity. ‘If we don’t finish up and get moving soon, we’ll have lost the best part of the day.’
‘I’ll go and stir up my men,’ said Gretorex as Quintus sheathed his pugio once more. ‘they should have finished prandium breakfast by now.’
‘I’ll go and see if the Tribune has the General’s letters and passes yet,’ said Septem. ‘I’ll warn the others on the way. Can you finish up here Quintus?’
‘Finish it up, sort it out and, most importantly, use the latrine,’ said the old soldier. ‘Once we get going, we won’t want to stop ‘til we set up camp tonight.’
***
‘All ready your end?’ asked Enobarbus as he handed over a solid-looking box.
‘Quintus is giving the equipment a last look-over. I’ve sent everyone who’s coming with us to the latrine...’
‘I’ll wager Quintus came up with that idea...’
‘He did. Are all the letters, passes and so-forth here?’
‘They are. Over the general’s seal and neatest signature. It’s so clear and careful it almost looks like a forgery. How did you decide on the disguises in the end, yesterday?’
‘Easily. Anyone with even a word or two of Gaulish is in disguise except for me. The rest of us are in armour.’
