Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) (10 page)

They continued to walk in silence for a few minutes as Marcia tried to take in all that he had said. It was a clear night, and the crescent moon glowed off the water as the waves lapped gently over the sand.
Metellus was momentarily startled when he felt her reach over and take his hand.

“And now you’re a centurion in the legions!” Marcia noted respectfully. “A pity we could not have met much sooner.”

“There is time,” Metellus said. “I have another three weeks left on my leave before I have to start my journey back to the Rhine.”

“Then we’d best make the most of it,” Marcia replied with a smile. This walk with the young centurion seemed to be exactly what her wounded soul needed. Since she was a young girl she had longed to find the man she thought was her father. Finding that he was not had shattered her hopes, and yet now she dared to think that perhaps events were transpiring as they were meant to.

Guide me, mother
, she thought wordlessly to herself.

________

Chapter Endnotes:

1 – Bordeaux, France

2 – Silchester, England

3 – The Brigante Kingdom covered much of what is now Northern England, as well as portions of the Midlands. Their capitol was in what is now Yorkshire. A tribe of the same name also controlled several counties in Ireland, though if these were the same people is unknown.

4 – English East Midlands

Chapter VI: A King in Exile

The Imperial Palace, Rome

July
, 41 A.D.

***

It had been twenty-six years since Verica had succeeded his elder brother as king of the Atrebates. They were but one tribal kingdom among the many that inhabited the Isle of Britannia. Originally of Gallic and Belgic origin, they were a conglomeration of
various peoples who came to be ruled by the kings of Atrebas. One of the smaller kingdoms on the isle, their far more powerful neighbors constantly pressed their borders. Verica’s twenty-five year reign had been one of near constant turmoil, until finally Caratacus decided to do away with his kingdom altogether and annex the lands as his own in a short but brutal war of conquest.

Though the king and a small escort had been saved from capture by a Roman warship, they had not been allowed to see the emperor
after their arrival. At the time, Caligula was making a spectacle about his pending invasion of Britannia, and so he felt he had no need to deal with those who could not even hold onto their lands in the face of barbarian invaders. As such, Verica and Cogidubnus had remained just outside the city, in the area known as
Campus Martius
, or
Field of Mars
. It was populated mostly by foreign dignitaries and hosts of those waiting to get into the city proper. Their stay was comfortable enough, and they were put up in a block of rooms near the Baths of Agrippa. Both the king and the few warriors who accompanied him were in awe at the sight of the imperial city. The tents, small cottages, and even the great meeting halls of the Britannic kings were but humble shanties of squalor when compared to the massive and ornate structures that dotted the Roman landscape.

Now, a
fter a year in exile and seven months following the assassination of Gaius Caligula and the rise of Claudius, Verica was at last summoned to the imperial palace. The elderly Briton was helped by his young great-nephew as they were escorted up the steps by several squads of praetorian guardsmen. The massive city was worlds apart from where Verica had come. He stood for a moment in awe of the massive stone pillars and gigantic statues portraying men and deities; seeing them up close for the first time.

“These men will restore us to our rightful place,” he asserted
, as he looked over at his nephew, Cogidubnus.

“A bitter irony that we must first subjugate ourselves to a foreign emperor,
” the young man said, for what must have been the hundredth time since they began their journey several months before. “I petitioned them for assistance when no others would come.”

“And what would you call Caratacus and the
Catuvellauni?” Verica retorted. “Are they not a foreign people who now occupy our kingdom? We have not the size or strength to resist them like the Brigantes, who sat idle while our people were slaughtered and enslaved. Caratacus sacked our capitol and sits in my great hall, provided he has not burned it to the ground. We may share similar ancestry and religion, but he is just as much a foreigner to us as Emperor Claudius of the Romans.”

As the two men conversed, a tall, bald Roman in a resplendent toga
, accented with a narrow purple stripe, descended the steps to greet them. He was well built with a prominent nose, and he carried a small ornate baton in his right hand.

“King Verica,” he said
, “I am Aulus Nautius Cursor, Tribune of the Plebs. On behalf of the people of Rome, I welcome you.” He then placed his hand over his heart and gave a short bow of respect. “I am to escort you to the emperor, who is most anxious to meet you.”

“And I him,” Verica replied.
“I am glad he is a more receptive host than his predecessor was.”

With the decades of trade between their nations, plus status as a Roman ally, the king had learned to speak Latin at a very young age.
As he had elected to dress in Roman garb, while cropping his hair shorter than usual and shaving so as not to stand out as conspicuously, the trace of foreign accent was the only thing that betrayed Verica’s origins. Cursor’s mouth twitched knowingly at the king’s last remark, though he held his tongue. He waved his hand towards the entrance of the palace and guided the men up the long steps.

With Metellus’ leave at an end, he would be making his way back to the Rhine soon
. However, he would not be traveling alone. Though his union with Marcia may have felt a bit rushed, Artorius was by no means disappointed. It proved to be a rather small gathering, as Marcia only had a handful of friends, and all of Metellus’ companions were with the legions in Germania.

“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 d
aughter 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 h
e 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 equi
tes, 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.

“A
ccess 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.”