Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) Page 9
“A pity my father isn’t here to see this,” Artorius said quietly as he took Diana’s hand. “Given the kindness he and Juliana showed Camilla at the end of her short life, how fitting that her daughter now joins our house.”
“Those who we love never really leave us,” Diana replied, squeezing her husband’s hand in emphasis.
Marcia was practically beaming in her radiant white gown and floral crown. Metellus had elected to wear his uniform, minus the helmet. His armor was highly polished, as were the phalerae discs that adorned his chest. The priest bound their hands together and recited a few prayers for long life, happiness, and fertility. As he finished, Metellus and Marcia spoke their very brief vows as they became husband and wife. As they slowly walked through the small number of guests, Marcia released her husband’s hand and embraced Artorius.
“Finally, I can call you ‘father’,” she said with a tear rolling down her face.
To which he replied, “And I, at last, have a daughter.”
Claudius had looked forward to his meeting with the exiled allied king. It was only seven months since he became Caesar, yet with no other plots or seditious talk of trying to restore the republic. He could now focus his attention on crucial matters both within and outside of the empire. Though the son of Germanicus had been an abysmal failure as emperor, the soldiers were willing to extend their fealty to their revered former commander’s brother. The general populous may not have liked the emperor curtailing the excessive festivals and expensive celebrations, yet he had promised to still honor Rome’s sacred holidays with proper festivities. And besides, with wasteful spending curtailed, the imperial coffers had begun to grow once more. Now was the time to, at last, give audience to the exiled Britannic king.
Claudius sat on a throne on a small dais that rose a few inches from the floor. A number of senators and equites were also present; many out of curiosity, to see for themselves this exiled foreign king who came to them for aid. The emperor was flanked by several men on the dais. Ever-present was his freedman clerk and advisor, Narcissus, and next to him was a prominent senator named Aulus Plautius.
Plautius was a battle-hardened soldier who had put down a slave revolt in southeast Italia seventeen years prior, subsequently served as suffect consul five years later, and now served as governor-general of Germania Inferior. Now in his late forties, and despite much of his hair on the sides and back graying, he was still in solid health and had lost none of his tenacity or prowess. He was also one of the few senior members of the senate who was battle tested, a proven strategist, and had the ability to take the long view of a campaign.
In addition to experience, Claudius knew he needed men who were young enough to be of an innovative mind and willing to think beyond the borders of conventional wisdom. Standing on the other side of him were two brothers who possessed both of these traits, Flavius Sabinus and Flavius Vespasian. Though only in their early thirties, they had already established their military credentials through previous campaigns on Rome’s frontiers. Sabinus was a year older, well respected by the legions, and had a slight edge in experience, and yet he readily admitted that it was his younger brother who was the true military genius between them. Many generals possessed tactical savvy and were best suited for leading their men into battle, while others were more apt at looking at the overall strategic view of the campaign. Vespasian was that rare commodity who possessed both traits in equal measure. Plautius held both brothers in high regard, and it was he who recommended them to the emperor.
Though no one was specifically talking about a military operation in Britannia, the previous emperor, Caligula, had toyed with the idea. And if a deposed ally was coming to them for aid, then Roman honor would compel them to act decisively.
“The noble Verica, King of the Atrebates!” the porter announced as a short fanfare was sounded by a pair of horns.
“King Verica,” Claudius said slowly, both to be sure the Briton could understand him, and also so he made certain not to stammer. “I welcome you to Rome, as one ally to another.”
“Honored, Caesar,” Verica replied, with a bow. To do so forced him to lean over his walking stick, and his nephew kept a hand on him for balance. Seeing this, Claudius signaled to the porter.
“A pair of chairs for our guests,” he ordered.
Tribune Cursor assisted the porter before taking his place next to Sabinus and Vespasian.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” Verica said as he eased himself slowly into the chair. “I am a king in exile. My lands, at least those not destroyed by the invaders, now fall under Caratacus of the Catuvellauni. Despite being one of the smaller kingdoms within the isle, we have always remained a loyal ally and trading partner to Rome.”
“Indeed,” Claudius concurred. “Your rates for silver and tin have always been very generous.”
“I would gladly hand over much of the silver within my kingdom to be rid of the scourge of Caratacus,” Verica replied candidly.
This remark brought some quiet mutterings from amongst the senators and equites, and even Plautius’ face twitched in a half smile. The emperor, however, was utterly serious as he leaned forward and rested his chin on his steeple fingers.
“Access to your silver mines in exchange for restoring your kingdom to you is a fair offer,” he said slowly. “But know that any expedition we mount cannot be simply to depose one ruler in order to restore another. By your own words, you are a small kingdom. What happens if we restore you to power by force and then leave?”
“If Rome comes, then she is there to stay,” Cogidubnus said with an expression of understanding.
“We have other allies and trading partners to think of,” Plautius explained quickly. “The tribes of Britannia are in an endless state of war with each other, as your situation well illustrates. Rome can bring stability and order.”
“At what price?” Cogidubnus asked. When the Romans did not reply, he let out a resigned sigh. “There will be many, especially amongst the tribal nobilities, who resent the interference of outsiders. And while we are grateful for whatever assistance you can render, your very presence could unite many of the rival factions in an effort to expel you from our lands.”
“Does your nephew speak for you?” Claudius asked Verica.
“He speaks for my people,” the king replied. “It is he who we ask you to restore as ruler of the Atrebates, not me. I am an old man, decrepit and hardly the warrior that needs to be an example to my people. No, it is he who must lead us now.”
“And by your words, do you still seek our help?” Claudius asked Cogidubnus.
“Yes,” the young man said, slowly nodding his head. “I simply wish to confirm that which I suspect. Rome comes to not just aid an ally, but to conquer a province.”
“And you would find this disagreeable?” Claudius asked.
While the Atrebates appreciated the emperor’s candor, it unnerved them a bit, the thought of their lands, as well as those of their neighboring tribes, being occupied by foreign soldiers. Still, they knew they had little choice but to accept it or leave their people under the rule of Caratacus and an endless state of conflict.
“I only ask that once we are restored, you treat my people with the respect and dignity due to allies and friends,” Cogidubnus stated. “I do not wish to replace one usurper with another. And as my great-uncle says, much of the silver mines are yours, provided our people are not neglected or mistreated. I also want your assurance that Roman soldiers will be there to protect us from those who would label us traitors to our common ancestors.”
“The Atrebates are allies and friends of Rome,” Claudius asserted. “And you are recognized as their rightful king.”
Cogidubnus nodded in respect and then asked, “When will your expedition be ready to launch?”
Claudius looked to Plautius for an answer, though he, in turn, glanced over to the Flavian brothers. It was Vespasian, having the soundest grasp of logistics and movement of large armies, who spoke.
“Two years,” he said flatly.
The two Atrebates leaders looked at each other with expressions of disappointment.
The general was quick to explain. “As you said, it will take a massive force to conduct a full-scale invasion. And whatever forces take part in the expedition, many will be there to stay. We do not have spare legions and auxiliary regiments just lying about.”
“Forces within the empire will have to adjust to cover those regions on the frontier previously manned by the invasion force,” Sabinus added. “It is already August. We could perhaps launch a strike with a single legion and a few thousand auxiliaries, but how long would they be able to hold any kind of ground, especially if their presence does, in fact, unite many of the tribes against us?”
There was a long pause as the words of the two generals sank in. Rome may have been the largest empire the world had ever seen, with an army that bordered on invincible, yet they were not gods. They could not simply make forty-thousand men appear from nowhere, ready to invade and conquer Britannia in one fell swoop. Both Verica and Cogidubnus bore looks of consternation that the emperor sought to ease.
“More than a century ago,” Claudius remarked, “Julius Caesar learned a hard lesson when it came to invading Britannia with too small of a force. He was driven to the sea, and his men who fell died in vain. I will not make that same mistake. Plautius, how many legions do you anticipate you will need?”
“Four, Caesar,” the general replied. “We will also require a substantial number of auxiliaries, especially cavalry. All told, this invasion force will require between forty and forty-five thousand men.”
“Most of next campaign season will be spent in logistical preparations,” Vespasian continued. “An army marches on its stomach. And unless we intend to purge Britannia of all its food resources, which will not win us any friends, then we need massive quantities of rations for our troops, as well as animal fodder. There is also the matter of wagons for the artillery, blacksmiths, spare parts for weapons and armor, and a host of other logistical necessities. It is a different kind of endeavor when one has a standing and well-equipped professional army, as opposed to part-time warriors.”
The words were not meant to insult either of the two Britannic leaders, yet they felt undeniably humbled at the thought that this vast empire could afford to field a massive armed force; where each soldier was a warrior by profession, and every one of them equipped with better weapons and armor than even the wealthiest tribal king.
“This will be an epic undertaking,” Claudius said. “One that I think will continue for many years to come. But you can rest easy, my friends, knowing that Rome stands by you. You will remain here as my guests, until such time that you are restored to the throne of the Atrebates by the blades of legionaries.”
Deliberations and preparations would begin another day, and the emperor dismissed the king and his great-nephew, who thanked him for his promise to assist them and their people. As they made ready to leave the hall, they were met by the porter.
“You are to remain in the imperial palace as the emperor’s personal guests,” the man explained. “It is far more comfortable here than in those flats at the Field of Mars.”
“They were still far better than the predicament our people find themselves in,” Verica muttered.
“But we still thank Caesar for his hospitality,” Cogidubnus added.
Though visibly flustered that Roman soldiers would not be coming to their shores sooner, they knew they had no choice but to wait. They soon left with the porter, who promised to have accommodations for them that were befitting an allied king.
As the throng exited the audience chamber, the emperor spotted the plebian tribune and called to him.
“Tribune Cursor!”
“Yes, Caesar,” Cursor replied, turning about and walking back to the dais.
“I was d…disappointed when I heard you will not be seeking re-election when your term is up.” Claudius privately cursed himself for his stammer, but was thankful that at least his voice had not failed him when the Atrebates were present.
“I became a suffect plebian tribune simply to fill in for the remainder of the previous holder’s term,” Cursor explained. “That was ten years ago. I’ve been elected to this post three times now, and I feel it is time for me to step down.”
“Tell me,” Claudius said, stepping down from the dais, “in all that time have you found Rome worth serving again?”
He referred to an emotional conversation the two had shared many years prior. Tiberius was still emperor then, and Cursor had helped expose the plot of his praetorian prefect, Lucius Aelius Sejanus, who sought to overthrow him. The emperor’s retribution had exceeded the bounds of justice, even going so far as to order the execution of Sejanus’ youngest son and daughter, who were still underage. That they were also Claudius’ niece and nephew mattered not to the vengeful emperor. And because the order had come from Tiberius himself, Cursor was unable to use his tribunician veto to overturn the sentences. Both he and Claudius had witnessed the horrifying spectacle, which degraded even further when the young girl was forcibly raped while the noose was placed around her neck, so that sacrilege would not be committed by the execution of a virgin.
After that night, Cursor damned Rome as an empire not worth defending. Yet despite his vehement disgust and broken spirit, he was compelled by friends to stand for reelection as plebian tribune and, surprisingly, won easily. Ten years later, these painful memories came flooding back with Claudius’ question, and he took his time in answering.
“Tiberius was one of the greatest military leaders Rome ever had,” he said. “And if one could ignore his perpetually gloomy demeanor and volatile temper, he was in many ways a great emperor. He finished the wars in Germania and maintained a lasting peace throughout most of the empire thereafter. He also left Rome with more coin in its coffers than in her entire existence. And yet, the cries of those children, whose deaths he ordered, will always haunt me. The lifelong admiration I held for Tiberius died with the innocents.”
“My u…uncle’s decline was a slow one,” Claudius observed. “I w…was once told that it began with the death of my father, when I was but an infant. He was later forced to divorce his wife, who he deeply loved, and was compelled to marry Augustus’ daughter, my Aunt Julia. Her scandalous behavior and banishment humiliated him, and he never married again. Just five years after his ascension, he was accused of having my dear brother, Germanicus, murdered. I never believed it, n…nor did my mother. Sejanus’ betrayal later drove him to the brink, and finding out his son was murdered by his own wife plunged him into oblivion. I do not say this to excuse what he did, for his vengeance was terrible indeed. But I cannot damn him, despite the pain the executions of those children caused me. Is it possible to have endured as much as he and not be driven mad? Could you deal with it? Could I?”
“Many dared to hope once more when Tiberius died and Gaius Caligula took the throne,” Cursor continued, ignoring the question. “Spoiled brat he may have been, he was a son of Germanicus. It was thought that perhaps his father’s noblest traits would come through. Sadly, he possessed none of his father’s noble qualities. I mean no offense, Caesar, as he was your nephew.”
Claudius simply smiled and shook his head. He understood, perhaps better than any, the madness that consumed Gaius Caligula. Claudius had been very close with his brother, and Germanicus was universally hailed as one of Rome’s greatest generals and statesmen. Even the gods themselves would not be able to explain how a great man like Germanicus Caesar had sired such a wicked creature.
“And now?” the emperor persisted. “You were always direct and honest, even when my uncle was at his most volatile, so p…please do not let your candor fail you now. Is Rome worth fighting for?”
“Forgive me,” Cursor said, “but you’ve only been on the throne for several months. You’ve yet to even celebrate your first Saturnalia as emperor. I know your qualities as a man, for you w
ere my friend long before you became Caesar. You treat the senate with respect and rule with them rather than over them. So to answer your question, I have found an emperor worth serving beside. Whether or not Rome is deserving, that is yet to be seen.”
“Your not seeking reelection may give you an opportunity to find out,” Claudius stated. “You understand the colossal undertaking we are proposing in Britannia. The terrain there is rough and heavily forested in places. Legionaries alone will not be enough. We will need cavalry, and lots of it. An entire corps of horsemen will be needed if we are to conquer even the southern portion of the isle. They will need a leader, one of rational thought, decisive action, who can be trusted with independent command, answerable only to the commander-in-chief. So I ask you this, not for Rome and not as your emperor, but as your friend; will you do me the honor of leading my cavalry?”
Cursor was stunned by the enormity of what Claudius was asking him. Despite his longing to retire to private life, as well as his promise to his wife many years before that he would never again ride into battle, he knew there was only one answer he could give.
“It is I who am honored to accept,” he replied, clasping Claudius’ hand.
This was perhaps a breach of protocol, as one did not ever lay hands on the emperor, but then Claudius had asked him as a friend, rather than as his emperor.
Cursor’s heart was pounding in his chest as he left the imperial palace. His immediate concern was how his wife, Adela, would react. After thirteen years of marriage she knew her husband intimately, and she would also understand that such an offer of command from the emperor was not one to be ignored lightly. He would have to leave for the frontier by the next spring to begin consolidation and training of his forces. Would Adela accompany him? He certainly hoped so! There were also many intrusive thoughts and trepidations about the coming expedition, not least of which was the very reasonable chance that he would not be coming back. The sky was overcast as he stepped out onto the street. He closed his eyes and raised his head towards the heavens.