Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) (11 page)

“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 thank
ed 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 cha
mber, 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 empir
e 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 were 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.

“Let me find what I seek,” he said to whatever force in the universe may have been listening, “and then consign me to oblivion.”

Chapter VII: Somewhere Far Beyond

Fortress of the Twentieth Legion, Cologne, Germania

August
, 41 A.D.

***

Metellus had been required to return to the fortress after his month of leave, but Artorius had no such orders
. He would make certain to pack up as much of his household as reasonable, though he knew his return to the legions would be temporary, a few years perhaps, and then he intended to return to Ostia. He also rightly suspected that his reassignment had been at least partially influenced by the rumblings coming from Britannia.

Tribune Cursor’s selection
as commander of all cavalry forces in both Gaul and Germania only added to the speculation. He would finish out his term as tribune of the plebs, which would end at the start of the new year, and join his regiments the following spring. He and Adela had been kind enough to host a dinner for Artorius and Diana before their departure for the Rhine. It was strange in a way for Artorius, returning to the house he grew up in, only now it was owned by his friend rather than his family. And while he knew his way around, it did not feel like his childhood home anymore.

“How is Adela handling your return to active service?” Artorius asked when the two men were alone in Cursor’s study after dinner.

“She understands,” he replied. “She held back her tears, only saying that she was glad I found something I could fight for again. To be honest, that is only partially true. I
hope
I have found that which I seek, but I will not know for certain until well after we have launched the invasion and landed across the channel.”

“And what exactly is it that you seek?”

“A chance to build, rather than destroy,” Cursor explained. “Not to sound overly idealistic, but I want to leave the world, or at least part of it, a better place than I found it. Britannia, I think, will give me that chance.”

“And is Adela accompanying you to the Rhine?” Artorius asked.

“She is, for she understands my intent. Between us, old friend, I do not think I shall be coming back from Britannia. We’ve already arranged to sell the house and the vineyards, and I foresee a new life for us across the water. Of course, all of this is dependent on the success of our mission and my not getting killed in the process.”

He let out a dark chuckle at the last assessment. It was a cold reality, though; even if the invasion went as planned and the tribal kingdoms were quickly subdued, there would still be Roman soldiers paying the ultimate price in blood. Artorius took a deep pull off his wine and wondered silently if he would be returning from Britannia.
His conversation with Cursor confirmed his suspicions that the emperor intended to conquer the province. It all made sense in the end. Claudius needed to secure his military credentials, as this would maintain his popularity with the people, along with strengthening his own personal security. And demonstrating that Rome stood by her allies also gave Claudius enormous political influence, regardless of the circumstance that required said allies to become subjects of the empire.

“Claudius is determined to make his name in Britannia,” Artorius observed. “And we will be the ones who make it for him.”

“Welcome home, brother!” Cartimandua said, extending her arms and embracing Alaric. “Forgive me for missing you, but I had pressing business away south. Had I known you’d come back to us, I would have delayed a day in order to be here to greet you.”

Though it had been two months since his return, this was the first time he had seen the queen. The years had only added to her beauty, enhancing her womanly features. She was tall for a woman, almost able to look him in the eye. Her light brunette hair was braided on both sides, which were pulled together in the back. She wore a thin, gold band around her head as a type of crown. Her long gown was lightweight and colored in earthen tones. The queen of the Brigantes resonated both regality and strength.

“My queen,” Alaric said, bowing deeply.

“Please,” Cartimandua said, taking him by the hand which brought a shiver up his spine. “When it is just us, we can dispense with the formalities. Walk with me; I want to hear all about your travels.”

“Of course,” he replied, “but first I want to know about my mother.”

Though the
day was warm, if a bit overcast, Cartimandua shuddered slightly, as if chilled. She said nothing for a few moments as they strolled amongst the hedgerows that ran along the grounds behind her great hall.

“Forgive me,” she said once again. “I should have first offered my condolences to you. You know she was very dear to me as well.”

“What happened?” Alaric persisted. “She was not an old woman, and her health had never been poor.”

“Dear brother, you’ve been away for many years,” Cartimandua said. “Your mother aged considerably over the last few years. She and my father were very close. Although they never married, nor made public any sort of relationship, it was plain to me that there was much more between them than just close friends and companions. When he passed on seven years ago, she took it very hard.”

“I am sorry,” Alaric replied. “Breogan practically raised me, and was the only father figure I ever knew.”

“His death was unexpected,” Cartimandua remarked. “He fell ill during a really bad winter, yet he refused to be bedridden or cease in his work. He weakened himself to the point that by the time he did rest and recover, it was already too late. Milla insisted on not leaving my side during the time of mourning, though I think this was as much for her own sake as mine.”

“And I was long since gone,” Alaric added, suddenly struck by feelings of guilt.

“You must not blame yourself,” the queen consoled him. “
You had to find your own way in the world, and your mother never faulted you for it. She did always hope that she would see you again, but as the years passed, she assumed something tragic had befallen you. Before she left us, she told me
‘I go to be with my husband and son’
.”

“She assumed your father was now with your mother,” Alaric surmised, quickly wiping a tear from his eye. “And naturally she wished to be with my father again. A tragedy that she thought I had also passed into the afterlife.”

They walked in silence for some time. The rolling terrain extended as far as he could see from the top of the hill. Just to the east was the port village, where both merchants and fishermen plied their wares.

“I understand you spent
time in the Far East,” Cartimandua said at last.

“Somewhere far beyond,” Alaric replied. “I was at sea for a number of years, never fully appreciating just how large the world really is. The lands of the east are dry, hot, and arid; far different from the temperate climate here.
Not nearly as green, though beautiful in its own way. The people are fascinating, albeit they share one common aspect with us, in that they are constantly fighting each other. One sad lesson I learned is that the world is a brutal place no matter where you go.”

“Yes, the Judeans are quite the peculiar race,” Cartimandua concurred. When she noted Alaric’s perplexed look, she explained, “I have met a couple in my time. The occasional wealthy merchant has landed on our shores, although this is extremely rare. Traveling this far from their homeland is very costly, not to mention fraught with risk, as I’m certain you are far more aware than I. And the resources we do have, namely precious metals, can be found in other parts of the world readily enough, so there is no real need for them to ever journey this far except out of personal curiosity.”

“You mention
the world
, yet you never say
Rome
,” Alaric observed.

“Anymore they are practically one and the same,” the queen sighed. “Tell me, in all of your travels, did you ever spend time in any place not annexed by the Caesars?”

“Only here, when I returned home,” Alaric said. “And I wonder how long that will last. Mother was terrified that the legions would one day march upon our shores.”

“
She was correct in her assumption,” Cartimandua replied. “The reason for my journey south was to meet with both members of the Catuvellauni, as well as a few nobles of the Atrebates who have chosen exile over being subjects of Caratacus. King Verica has gone to Rome with the intent of one day returning with a host of legionaries who will restore him to his throne; at least that’s what the exiled nobles said.”

“I thought you were not opposed to the idea of Romans coming to Brigante?” Alaric asked as they reached a small stone wall that overlooked a short cliff. Below them stretched vast farm fields, worked by both Brigantes as well as slaves.

“I don’t,” the queen replied. “But you understand I have to be very cautious. We know little about this new emperor, other than he is the uncle of the previous madman who sat on the imperial throne. If he elects to support Verica, will he make a farcical show of force, like Gaius Caligula did? Or perhaps launch an expedition with too few men, like Julius Caesar a hundred years ago? Either of these is possible, just as much as he will send a massive army, large enough to conquer the entire isle. If I side with the Romans prematurely, any coalition that is raised against them can be turned on us. And if I side against the invaders, and they do in fact come to conquer, then they will take our lands and annihilate my people. Whether the pride of our warriors can accept it or not, a Roman Army unleashed is an unstoppable killing machine.”

“So I have seen,” Alaric said darkly.
“I spent time in Rome itself and have seen many wondrous things within the various corners of their empire. Yet what you cannot see on the polished marble surface is that their civilization was founded on the subjugation and destruction of other races.”

“All nations are built in such a way, not just Rome
,” Cartimandua asserted. “When you left on that merchant ship all those years ago, I thought that perhaps you would make your home in some exotic land.”

“Home,” the young man remarked, shaking his head. “I’ve never known such a place, not even here. Although I suppose this is as close to a home as I will ever have. Something told me I had to come back, though in all honesty, I have not known what to do with myself.”

“Landon tells me you acquired some skill with a sword,” the queen observed.

“A little,” he shrugged.

“He also says you acquitted yourself well in battle during your travels.” Cartimandua’s words caused Alaric to stop abruptly. She gently pressed him further. “It was for the Romans that you fought, wasn’t it?”

“
Believe me, I did not fight alongside the Romans willingly. I had no choice if I wanted to live.” He went on to tell the queen about his time aboard a Roman warship that was bound for Judea, and of their battle against a renegade pirate ship. He explained how he’d used his share of the prize money from the captured vessel to live on while in the east.

“I am vexed as to what I should do
over the next couple years, should the legions march on Britannia.” Alaric raised an eyebrow at this, and Cartimandua was quick to explain. “Like I said, my business in the south had to do with the Atrebates. You may have passed through their lands, or at least what used to be theirs, during your journey.”

“I did. And I saw the burned out remains of what I guess was once their king’s great hall.”

“Verica was a friend and valuable trading partner,” the queen stated. “His former nobles, now living in seclusion, told me the Atrebates were Roman allies. If true, and if their king has left for Rome to petition them to restore him to power, you can bet they will come. Claudius has not been emperor long, and honor will demand he stand by his allies.”

“You have not said what you will do if the Romans come to Britannia.”

“Trust me, brother, when I say it’s not a question of
if
, but rather
when
,” Cartimandua replied. “Unlike the Atrebates, we are a very large kingdom. Our lands cover much of middle Britannia, up to Caledonia
1
. We even still possess territories on the east coast of Hibernia
2
. And Caratacus, for whatever he has done to the Atrebates, is highly respected amongst all the tribes, and is also a close personal friend of my husband.”