Soldier of Rome- Reign of the Tyrants Read online

  Lucius’ motivation behind volunteering for this particular mission revolved around his desire to remain with the legion. While a command tour for legates and chief tribunes was normally three years, the staff tribunes from the equites served for only six months. This suited most of them, as their ambitions collectively lay more along the lines of becoming magistrates and mayors of the imperial cities. A very select few with the right family names and political connections could, perhaps one day, become governor of either Egypt or Judea, the only provinces that were managed by equites rather than senators. Lucius Artorius, however, despised politics and bureaucracy. All his life he had longed to be a soldier, like his father and grandfather before him. He oftentimes cursed the fates for making him the elder Artorian brother.

  The sun broke through the clouds, adding a bit of reprieve from the chill, as he dismounted outside the gate of the fortress, handing his horse over to one of the guards. When he reached the large principia building, the legionaries on either side of the door came to attention and saluted. Lucius returned the courtesy before entering the legion’s headquarters.

  The outer foyer served as an office to the aquilifer. An older soldier, of much experience and education, he held the esteemed honor of carrying the sacred imperial eagle into battle. He was also the senior paymaster for the entire legion, and his rank was equivalent to that of a centurion primus ordo from the elite First Cohort. Despite his status and the immense respect his position warranted, he was still subordinate in rank to the staff tribunes. As such, he stood respectfully when Lucius entered the large foyer, his helmet tucked under his arm.

  “Tribune, sir,” the aquilifer said, with a respectful nod.

  “I have my report to make to the commander,” Lucius replied.

  “Of course. He is out conducting an inspection of the Eighth Cohort at the moment, but will return within the hour.”

  “Very good,” the tribune nodded. “I will be in my quarters freshening up. Please inform him that I will see him once I’ve made myself presentable.”

  While Lucius was anxious to meet with Verginius, as much for his personal goals as the contents of his findings, he was glad for the brief reprieve. Unlike the soldiers in the ranks, who lived in cramped barracks with up to eight men sharing a pair of rooms, tribunes were each given their own house within the fortress. Though smaller than the abodes of most men of their social status, they were large enough to house three or four servants and to give the legion’s staff officers a sense of privacy and personal space.

  Another privilege of his rank was the use of a far more private bath than what legionaries were required to share. Though the hot plunge pool was only modestly warm on this afternoon, Lucius decided it would take too long for the slaves to reignite the fires and heat the waters. The stages of a typical Roman bath, from the cold frigidarium to the warm tepidarium, the scalding plunge in the caldarium, to finally the scraping of the skin and an oil massage by slaves, could take an hour or longer. Lucius Artorius settled for a simple warm water plunge, followed by a shave and a quick rubbing of oil on his tired muscles.

  A pair of servants then helped him dress. His deep crimson tunic with gold trim may not have been as formal as wearing a toga, but it was still a lot more fashionable than the plain red or white tunics worn by the men in the ranks. He buckled his brass plated leather belt around the waist and donned his caligae sandals. These were the most well-worn part of his attire, yet they were also the most comfortable. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair, grabbed his stack of reports, and made the short walk back to the principia. A simple affirmative nod from the aquilifer told him the legate was in. With a deep breath, Lucius marched over to the commanding general’s door and knocked.

  “Enter.”

  “Tribune Artorius reporting, sir!” he said, with a sharp salute.

  “At ease,” Verginius said. He held out a hand, accepting the rather thick packet of notes and observations that Lucius had made during his short time in Gaul.

  “Very good,” the legate said, glancing quickly through the reports. “A lot of attention to detail, I see.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lucius replied. “Vindex intends to go through with his rebellion. He is, essentially, devoid of any other option now. His support is limited to just a few of the old tribes who still harbor resentment against the empire dating back to the time of Caesar. He is hopeful this discord will spread throughout the region.”

  “Hmm,” Verginius said, still looking through the parchments. “That will be all, tribune. Dismissed.”

  “If I may, sir,” Lucius said hesitantly. “I did have one request, which I wish to address with you.”

  “Indeed?” Verginius asked, setting down the reports.

  “As you know, my time with the legion expires in two weeks...”

  “Yes, and as I understand it, you will be taking a short leave in Ostia before returning to Ariminum,” the legate interrupted.

  “About that, sir,” Lucius replied. “I have no desire to return to the world of city and regional politics, at least not yet. I did file a request for an extension with the legion before I left for Gaul.”

  Having accepted the mission to Gaul as a means of proving his value to the legion, Lucius hoped it would sway his commanding legate’s decision to grant his extension. The expression of dismissiveness on Verginius’ face put an end to any such notions.

  “We have six staff tribune positions,” he said patiently, his hands resting atop his desk. “It is compulsory for each young man within the equites to perform six months of service in the legions. Half those who come here want nothing to do with the army, the other half wish to become career soldiers. Perhaps one in every five requests for extension gets approved, and that is for those with critical skills that the legion needs. You have been a good officer, Lucius, but unfortunately there is little you can offer that your peers cannot. I know your family’s reputation for service, and I admire your willingness to go beyond what is expected of a tribune. Your intelligence gathering in Gaul was excellent, and I will write a personal commendation for you.”

  The young tribune looked completely devastated. Verginius could sympathize. After all, many of the more adventurist young equites hoped to find glory and fortune during their service with a legion. Yet during the six months of Lucius Artorius’ tenure, little of interest had occurred along the Rhine. He had come to Mogontiacum towards the end of the normal campaign season, and the barbarians across the frontier had been surprisingly docile this spring. And now he was slated to leave the legion before what appeared to be a very likely campaign to suppress a rebellion in Gaul.

  “Even if I approved you remaining with the legion for another six months,” the legate explained, pulling out a scroll from under his desk, “it would matter little. The Governor of Ariminum has personally requested that you return to the city. I may be a senatorial legate, however, I cannot countermand orders regarding magisterial appointments. Like those of us in the senatorial class, you equites have your own political obligations. Make a name for yourself in Ariminum, become friends with the right people, and in time you may be fortunate enough to serve as a deputy commander of auxilia infantry or cavalry with the possibility of a future regimental command. And, if you are especially ambitious, make friends with anyone who might be associated with the Praetorian Guard. Just remember the reality of the world we live in; name recognition and having the right political connections will get you further than any number of consecutive tours as a military staff tribune. Dismissed.”

  Lucius saluted and left his commanding legate’s office feeling dejected and, in a sense, betrayed. He knew such thoughts were unbecoming, as was his incessant envy towards his younger brother. While Gaius had done well with the legions and had risen in rank to optio, life for all plebian soldiers was harsh. The training was brutal, discipline fierce, and even an optio’s wage was but a fraction of what the tribunes were paid.

  “Still, at least Gaius was able to make his
own choices in life,” Lucius grumbled, as he returned to his quarters.

  He later chastised himself for his selfishness. After all, Verginius had offered to write him a favorable recommendation, which would carry at least some weight, whenever the time came to apply for another military posting. And though he knew he was being granted a substantial opportunity in Ariminum, while living in the governor’s palace along with his adoring wife who he’d not seen in almost six months, he found himself yearning for the savage and austere life of a soldier on the frontier.

  It was late afternoon when Verginius summoned the commanding legate of Legio XXII, Claudius Zeno, to a meeting at his principia. Tribune Lucius Artorius’ report gave a very thorough analysis of the overall strategic situation.

  “So what do you think?” Claudius asked. “Is Vindex simply another Sacrovir looking to ‘liberate’ the Gauls?”

  “Vindex may be of Gallic blood, but he is still a Roman,” Verginius noted.

  “So was Sacrovir,” his fellow legate countered.

  “This rebellion is different,” Verginius emphasized. “This is not simply tribal barbarians who seek independence from Rome. These are Roman citizens who mean to overthrow the emperor, and replace him with one of their choosing. Vindex does not want Gaul to be free from Rome. He wants the whole of the empire to be free from Nero.”

  “And what of Galba?” Claudius asked. “Rumor has it he is supporting this little rebellion implicitly. For all we know, he could have been declared its leader.”

  “Apparently, Otho stated that Lusitania will follow whatever course Galba decides,” the governor added. “Though he has no legions, Galba is from one of the oldest families in Rome. His roots are deeper within the ancient aristocracy than any. This could generate sympathy for the rebellion within Rome. However, whether or not he supports Vindex, as far as we know, he has not budged from his province. Any threats Galba may or may not present will be diplomatic and political, rather than military.”

  “What do we know about Vindex’s strength?” Claudius asked. “We can’t worry about some old sod in Hispania when we have an actual rebellion to quash on our doorstep.”

  “Of the sixty-four tribal peoples within Gaul, only three have answered his call, the Aedui, Arverni, and Sequani.”

  “Those are three of the larger tribes,” Claudius noted. “They could likely muster a rather sizeable force, which could cause us much trouble.”

  “They are larger, I’ll grant you that,” Verginius remarked. “However, Vindex has no legions nor any trained auxiliaries. What cohorts there are in Gaul have remained silent and have fortified themselves within their camps. His army will likely consist of little more than untrained and lightly armed militia.”

  “We can rally both legions from Mogontiacum,” his legate said. “The Twenty-First Legion can detach a vexilation to watch the border in case the barbarians across the Rhine get a little adventurous.”

  “Yes, but our two legions will not be sufficient even with auxilia attachments. I am going to use the emperor’s prerogative, which I have the right to in the event of such a crisis, and have detachments from Legio, V Alaudae, XV, and XVI, as well as the First Germanica Legion.”

  “Capito won’t like that,” Claudius replied, thinking back to his recent interaction with Fonteius Capito. “He did not outright say it, but he left the impression it should be he who leads any expeditions to put down a rebellion.”

  “Piss on Capito!” Verginius scoffed. “That worthless old twat couldn’t fight his way out of a brothel full of aged whores, let alone lead legions into battle. He will either send me at least four cohorts from each of his legions or he can explain to the emperor why, in the empire’s moment of need, he chose to sit on his ass and let rebellious provincials run amok.”

  Claudius grinned in acknowledgement. He then added, “It’s just as well that we are heading into Gaul. We conduct punitive raids across the Rhine nearly every summer, and it nets little if any plunder for the lads. Most of the time, the barbarians don’t even bother to stick around and fight. And with Gaul being by far the richest province in the western empire, no doubt our soldiers will be anxious to enrich themselves off the spoils of rebellious traitors.”

  Chapter V: The Rebellion Grows

  Vienne, Gaul

  March 68 A.D.

  Servius Sulpicius Galba

  It was early March when Julius Vindex rebelled openly, stating that he had an army that was ready to depose Nero and ‘replace him with one worthy of his once noble ancestry’. Despite having no professional soldiers and only three of the Gallic tribes joining him, their strength was still an impressive one hundred thousand volunteers. This was a vast, but also unwieldy number of men to provide for. And as this was nothing even close to resembling a professional army, there were no supply lines, or even supply bases for that matter. Each man brought whatever food he could carry, many using their own draught animals to transport supplies. At most, his men would have enough rations to last a month. And while Verginius’ silence likely portended that the Army of the Rhine would not be supporting the uprising, Vindex had a more immediate crisis to contend with.

  “Lugdunum has declared for Emperor Nero,” a returning scout reported, as Vindex and Bradan were conducting an inspection of one of the newly-formed regiments of volunteers. Most of these men carried spears and hastily made shields, though few had anything resembling armor. Vindex and his deputy quickly excused themselves and turned the men back over to their captain.

  “Your own damned capital and they slam the gates on you,” Bradan grumbled.

  “The nobility of the city are staunch in their loyalty to Nero,” Vindex explained. “I feared this might happen. Lugdunum is both the capital, as well as the most viable potential supply depot in the region. The River Rhodanus is also the perfect natural logistics line.”

  “If we cannot gain the support of Lugdunum, our army will run out of food long before we can even engage any of Nero’s forces.”

  “Something I had hoped to avoid, but may prove necessary,” Vindex conceded. “There is nothing for it. If we lose Lugdunum, then we lose all control of Gaul. The Rhine army is still in its garrisons as far as we know, so there is time. We’ll lay siege to Lugdunum and hope the nobles and people have the good sense not to risk their lives for that reckless tyrant in Rome.”

  Vindex and his senior leaders soon devised their plan to surround the capital, sending dispatches to every regiment and company within his army. It was impossible to encamp such a large force in one area. They were spread out in a series of camps over a fifty square mile region. He decided to take the largest of these forces, numbering approximately twenty-five thousand men, and march for Lugdunum. They were lightly armed, mostly with oval shields and either spears or hand axes. What was troubling to both Vindex and his leading generals was while many of these people were Roman citizens, their dress and appearance, along with their rudimentary weaponry, gave the appearance of a rebellious barbarian mob rather than an army set to free the empire from a tyrannical despot. However, he steeled himself to the task at hand. He knew overthrowing Nero would be a monumental undertaking. And it would all begin with the taking the capital of Gaul.

  Nero sat in the consul’s chair as the senate convened, a bored expression dominating his countenance, while he turned his gold plated baton over in his hands. He had agreed to a six-month suffect consulship, even though he found meetings within the senate to be utterly insufferable. The constant squabbling and petty debates were tedious even on the best of days. But with the ongoing crisis in Gaul, both Italicus and Galerius had compelled the emperor to accept the consul’s chair, that he may be seen as the one leading his people in crushing the traitors.

  Something else he was being forced to make compromises on was his continued use of accusing members of the senate of treason, in order to procure their family fortunes. While Nymphidius insisted the work of rooting out any and all who would dare betray their emperor must go on, Tigellin
us urged a measure of temperance in light of the current rebellion. A recent letter to the senate confirmed fears that patricians falling out of favor might become emboldened and defiant.

  “Caesar,” Consul Galerius said awkwardly, holding up a parchment. “We received this response from Marcus Vorenius Arius in Greece.”

  “What of him?” Nero asked. “He was convicted of treasonous slander and was ordered to take his own life.”

  “It’s the reply he sent us,” Galerius stated. He shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what he should say.

  “Well, out with it, man!” the emperor snapped impatiently. “What does the letter say?”

  “It says, ‘If that insufferable twat wants me dead, he can try and kill me himself. I piss on Lucius Domitius, who is unworthy of the name Nero and a disgrace to the Julio-Claudian Dynasty’.”

  Nero’s face turned almost purple with rage, his eyes bulging. Not only had this pitiful excuse of a man defied him, but he’d dared call him by his birth name, a name which Nero immeasurably despised.

  “Filthy, defiant traitor!” he screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber. “I’ll sail to Greece at once, cut off his head, shit on his corpse, and then fuck his wife in the ass while his children are forced to watch! And then I’ll execute the lot of them as well...”

  His breath was suddenly short and his brow sweaty. As he had taken to wearing theatrical makeup constantly, this was starting to streak. His rage turned to embarrassment.

  “Senators, forgive me, I am not well. I have not slept in days, and this rebellion in Gaul has upset me greatly. There are so many in the provinces who would seek to wound me.”