The Blood of Rome

by Simon Scarrow

  Petronella darted forward, her face flushed, and took Lucius by the hand. ‘Come, Master Lucius, we’ll take those straight to the kitchen and cook up a feast for us all. How does that sound?’

  ‘A feast! Yes, yes!’

  Cato and Macro regarded them fondly as they disappeared down the corridor in the direction of the silversmith’s kitchen.

  ‘You have a fine son there, Cato.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ He smiled proudly.

  ‘I hope to have a son one day myself.’

  ‘Petronella’s not . . .’

  ‘Not as far as I know. And not for want of us trying.’

  ‘Ah yes, all that wrestling will pay off in the end,’ Cato chuckled. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a son who will carry on in the same spirit as his father.’

  Macro winced. ‘The gods help me if he does. I was a right handful as a kid.’

  ‘You do surprise me.’

  The fish stew prepared by Petronella was sufficiently bountiful for Cato to suspect the surreptitious addition of other piscine matter from the pantry to bulk out the meal. The four of them were joined by the silversmith. Yusef was a rotund man with bulging eyes and a cheery face who bowed his head in gratitude when Cato indicated that he should take the seat at the head of the table. As the stew was brought in he rubbed his hands together and raised his nose to sniff.

  ‘Ah! Superb!’ He had been primed by Petronella and turned his gaze towards Lucius. ‘I gather we have you to thank for furnishing us with this feast, young man.’

  Lucius grinned with pride as Yusef waited until Petronella was seated before raising his cup. ‘A toast to our skilled fisherman. To Lucius.’

  ‘To Lucius,’ the others echoed.

  The boy raised his own cup. ‘To me!’

  The stew was a revelation to Cato. The fish had been diced and fried before being added to a thick base of onion, tomatoes and spices. There was a little heat to it that made him reach for some more watered wine, but the overall effect was delicious.

  ‘One more reason to make this woman your wife, Macro.’

  The centurion smiled happily and winked at Petronella.

  The silversmith looked on with a mischievous expression. ‘Indeed. But if he doesn’t, then I’d be honoured to take your hand. If only to be certain of being served such divine food.’

  Macro gave him a sharp look. ‘I don’t think the extra pounds would suit you.’

  ‘I jest, Centurion. Truly. No one could ever replace my dear wife, rest her soul.’ He reflected sadly for a moment. ‘A sweet woman, but of a nervous disposition. I dare say she would have found our present circumstances rather frightening.’

  Cato lowered his spoon. ‘Oh?’

  ‘The coming conflict with Parthia. Memories are long and the people of Tarsus still talk of the raids by bands of Parthians the last time Rome and Parthia went to war. The enemy scoured our lands, burning farms and villages, looting, murdering and raping as they went. There are few families in the city who did not suffer at their hands. Not to mention the damage to trade.’ He raised his eyes. ‘It took years to recover. So you will understand if I say that I hope cool heads and common sense prevail and war is averted between your glorious emperor Nero and the perfidious despot Vologases. Tarsus can ill afford such raids again.’

  ‘No need to worry,’ Macro responded. ‘Corbulo knows his business. The eastern provinces will be safe in his hands. Besides, it’ll be a while yet before the army’s ready to march off to war.’

  ‘I trust you are right, Centurion.’

  Cato mentally winced at the exchange. With the cheerful homecoming of the fishing party and the warmth of the shared meal he had been putting off breaking the news about his orders from Corbulo. He cleared his throat.

  ‘About that. I’m afraid we will be in action rather sooner than I’d thought.’

  Everyone was looking at him, spoons poised. Cato set his down and leaned back as he continued. ‘The general has given us our orders. The cohort will be leaving Tarsus in the next few days.’

  Petronella swallowed. ‘So soon? I thought it was going to take months to assemble the army.’

  ‘So did I. I’m sorry that it isn’t going to be that way.’

  Yusef leaned forward with a frown. ‘Is war that close?’

  Cato was aware that he should not divulge any further details in front of his host. He liked the silversmith well enough, but there was a chance that he was the kind of man who might pass the information on socially and thereby inadvertently alert a Parthian agent to Cato’s orders. ‘I cannot say any more than that.’

  ‘What’s to become of us?’ Petronella asked. ‘Me and Lucius? Are we to go with you?’

  Cato shook his head. ‘I could not take the risk. You must stay here with Yusef.’ He turned to the silversmith. ‘That is, with your agreement. I will leave enough to cover their accommodation and food.’

  Yusef nodded, his heavy jowls quivering as he smiled kindly. ‘It would be an honour, Tribune.’

  Lucius had been sitting in silence, and now he spoke up, his lip quivering slightly. ‘Daddy and Uncle Macro are leaving us?’

  Petronella put an arm round him. ‘They have to, my pet. They need to help the emperor save us from the bad barbarians.’

  ‘But I don’t want them to go.’ Lucius pursed his lips and blinked as the first tears pricked out of the corner of his eyes and ran over his small cheeks.

  Petronella sighed as she rose from the table and picked the boy up. ‘Come, it’s time for sleep in any case. I’ll tell you some stories if you’re brave and dry those tears up.’ At the doorway she turned and met Macro’s gaze. ‘We’ll talk more about this later.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about, my love. We’ve got orders to obey. That’s all there is to it.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Hmmphhh.’

  With Lucius gazing tearily over her shoulder she turned and left the room. As her footsteps echoed softly off the walls of the corridor Yusef stirred and lifted his ponderous bulk from his chair.

  ‘I feel it is best I leave you two gentlemen to discuss the matter alone. No doubt there are things to be said that are not for my ears. I bid you a good night.’

  He shuffled away and left Macro and Cato alone with the half-eaten meal.

  ‘I’m not looking forward to having that talk with my beloved,’ Macro puffed as he scratched his chin. Then he shifted round to face his friend with a gleam in his eyes. ‘So where are we being sent, then?’

  ‘Artaxata, capital of Armenia.’

  Macro’s eyebrows rose and he let out a low whistle. ‘Just us? One cohort to invade an entire kingdom?’

  ‘No, there’ll be others. We’re the spearpoint unit. I hope we’ll be picking up some auxiliaries along the way. And there’ll be another force of native troops, led by Prince Rhadamistus.’

  ‘Who?’ Macro’s brow wrinkled as he concentrated. ‘Oh yes, the pretender to the Armenian throne. How many men has he got?’

  ‘A few thousand. No idea of their quality. But we’ll find out when we join forces with them . . .’ Cato reached for his cup of watered wine and took a sip. ‘Same goes for Rhadamistus.’

  ‘Any idea what’s he like, then?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him yet. But from what I’ve heard, he’s quite a character.’

  ‘In a good way?’

  Cato shrugged. ‘We’ll know soon enough.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Fuck me, he’s a giant,’ Macro muttered as the man who would be king of Armenia entered the general’s office.

  It was true, Cato noted, as Rhadamistus was obliged to duck his head to avoid the door frame. He was also broad enough across the shoulders to instinctively lead with his right in order to comfortably fit the width of the doorway. His bare forearms were like hams, and tanned almost to the colour of rind, so the comparison was apt. Jewelled rings glinted on his hands and his dark, oiled hair was held back neatly by a thin purple strip of silk.

  He bowed
his head to Corbulo and then eyed the other two officers carefully as the general returned the bow and gestured towards Cato and Macro as he spoke in Greek, the common tongue in the eastern Empire.

  ‘Your Majesty, these are the two officers we spoke of yesterday. May I present Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, commander of the Second Praetorian Cohort, and this is Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro, his senior centurion and second in command.’

  They bowed their heads as they heard their names. Cato, who could speak Greek fluently, had no difficulty following the introduction, but Macro, whose knowledge of the language was rusty struggled to keep up.

  Rhadamistus made his way into the centre of the office and folded his arms as he looked down on the three Romans in front of him. Macro, who was already shorter than most, felt the flesh at the back of his neck bunch up slightly as he looked up at the Iberian prince. For the first time in his long career he felt himself to be in the presence of a man who would defeat him without question if they ever met in a fight. Worse than defeat, thought Macro. Rhadamistus would crush him with his bare hands as easily as Macro could crush a tomato. He felt his stomach tighten anxiously at the thought. Just as well the bastard’s on our side . . .

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Tribune.’ Rhadamistus spoke in a voice that was higher pitched than Cato had expected. Nonetheless it was pleasant to the ear. ‘And you, Centurion. My friend, the general, speaks highly of you both. I am pleased that you will be serving under me when I return to Armenia to kill that Parthian dog Tiridates and retake my throne.’

  Cato stirred slightly at the implication that he would not be in command of the column. He met Corbulo’s gaze and the general gave the slightest shake of the head to reassure him.

  ‘And the centurion and I will be honoured to fight alongside you, Your Majesty.’

  Rhadamistus smiled politely and turned back to Corbulo. ‘I have already sent word to my soldiers in camp outside Antioch. They will march to Bactris as soon as they receive the order.’

  ‘Good. I’m sure that they will make good use of the training I have arranged for them.’

  Rhadamistus’s smile faded slightly. ‘I can assure you that they are already well trained. All they require to achieve victory is the support of our allies. We can do most of the fighting.’

  ‘Of course. No one doubts the prowess of your Iberians. It’s just that it would make sense for them to be familiarised with the way Roman soldiers operate, so that we can work together closely and effectively.’

  ‘I understand and accept that, General. And now, what of my demand for siege engines? If Artaxata holds out against me I will need them to breach the walls.’

  ‘I have given consideration to your request.’ Corbulo laid just enough stress on the word for it to be noted. ‘However, I have none to spare at present. They will be required to level the Parthian fortresses along the banks of the Euphrates when I cross the river and place my army between your kingdom and Parthia. Besides, most of the equipment is old and poorly maintained. It will be a considerable time before I have a siege train worthy of the name.’ Corbulo opened his hands. ‘Believe me, Your Majesty, I would willingly provide it to you if I could.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I must have bolt-throwers, onagers, towers and rams. Or my forces will be powerless before the least of the fortifications held against me in Armenia.’

  ‘As I said, I wish I could help you.’

  Rhadamistus drew himself up to his full height and stared back imperiously. ‘I sense that you do not trust me with your precious siege weapons. If I am not given what I need, then there is very little point in me leading my men, and your soldiers, into Armenia. I will instead remain in Antioch and await the outcome of your campaign before I decide to act.’

  Corbulo took a deep breath before he answered: ‘Majesty, we have an agreement. You are to reclaim your kingdom as swiftly as possible, with whatever support I can furnish at this time. In return, when my army is ready to go into the field against Parthia, Rome has sworn to uphold your claim to the Armenian throne, whatever the cost.’

  ‘My agreement is with your emperor. Nero has promised to give me the resources I need to take back my kingdom. I need siege engines. You will provide them. Or would you prefer that I send an envoy to Rome to take the matter up with the emperor directly?’

  Cato watched as his general reflected on the threat and then accepted that he had been outflanked. If Rhadamistus did as he said, then, by the time the envoy returned with the response, there would be barely time to mount any operation in Armenia before winter fell across the mountainous landscape. Besides that, there was every possibility that the emperor would be infuriated at having his agreement with the prince questioned by one of his subordinates. Corbulo risked being recalled and his command handed over to Quadratus, a man who had very little military experience, while being desperate to win glory; a dangerous combination. It was in Rome’s best interest, not to mention the general’s, that Rhadamistus acted as swiftly as possible to recover his throne. All this Cato saw in an instant as his general wrestled with the dilemma and came to the same conclusion.

  ‘Very well. For the sake of the sacred alliance between Your Majesty and the emperor, I will find some serviceable siege weapons to accompany your column.’

  Rhadamistus nodded his gratitude graciously.

  ‘But, as you will appreciate, the technical nature of the equipment requires specialists to operate and maintain it. Therefore the siege train will be entrusted to Tribune Cato and his men. They will ensure that it reaches Armenia safely and they will use the weapons to bring down the walls of your enemies, Majesty. I trust that is an arrangement that is acceptable to you?’

  From his reading about previous wars in Parthia, Cato knew that the armies of the kingdoms of the east had limited expertise in siegecraft. Rhadamistus would be unlikely to make the best use of such equipment if the weapons were handed to him directly, and he knew it.

  ‘Very well,’ Rhadamistus replied. ‘I accept your terms.’

  ‘Thank you, Majesty,’ Corbulo acknowledged as graciously as a man can who has been forced to give something up and be grateful for the privilege. ‘I will see that the equipment is conveyed to Bactris as soon as possible. Well, then, I believe we have concluded our business now that you have been introduced to Tribune Cato and Centurion Macro. I will not impose upon you any further, Majesty. I am sure you have plenty of preparations of your own to make.’

  ‘Indeed, General.’ Rhadamistus exchanged a bow with the Roman officers and then nodded at Cato. ‘I look forward to seeing you again at Bactris.’

  ‘Yes, Majesty.’

  Then Rhadamistus turned and strode from the room, ducking and slightly twisting once more as he passed through the doorway. At once the tension in the room eased and all three Romans breathed easily. They waited until his footsteps had retreated before Corbulo folded his hands together and sat back in his chair.

  ‘I can guess what you are thinking, gentlemen, but we rarely get to choose our allies. That is what we have to work with and right now it is vital that we get our ally back into Armenia, where he can attempt to drive Parthia’s usurper out.’

  ‘Our usurper versus their usurper,’ said Macro. ‘May the best usurper win.’

  Corbulo cocked his head. ‘Are you in the habit of making such comments, Centurion? If so, please desist for the duration of our association, unless you would prefer to be broken back to the ranks.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.’

  ‘Centurion Macro has a point, sir,’ Cato intervened hastily to save his friend from provoking the ire of their commander any further. ‘We need to make sure that our candidate has the best opportunity for success. We can’t afford to leave anything to chance.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. Which is why I am sending you, and now a valuable siege train as well. I’ll let you have sufficient onagers and bolt-throwers to take Artaxata. Our agents in Armenia report that almost all the Parthian troops have b
een withdrawn to deal with Vardanes and his Hyrcanian rebels. Now is the moment to strike and you will have more than enough men to do the job. So, in the centurion’s words, the best usurper will win. Or there will be merry Hades to pay. For all of us.’

  ‘Sir, may I ask what the plan is should Rhadamistus fail to retake his throne?’

  ‘If failure looks certain, then you will extract your men from Armenia as swiftly and as safely as possible. It will be easier to replace our Iberian friend than an elite formation of the Roman army. I suspect Rhadamistus knows it and that’s why he is obviously suspicious about the degree of our support for him. Who wouldn’t be, in his situation? We have plenty of hostages of royal blood in Rome that we could use to replace him. If, for any reason, withdrawal is not possible, then you will ensure that the cohort’s standards do not fall into enemy hands. Rome does not want to repeat the shame of the eagles we lost at Carrhae. That will be your responsibility as senior centurion, Macro.’

  ‘Yes, sir. You have my word that the standards will not be taken.’

  ‘Glad to hear that. It will also be your duty to train our friend’s retainers as best you can before they march into Armenia. Time will be short and you will only have time for the rudiments. But they need to be able to act upon Roman commands if the column is going to fight as one.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll drill the bastards into shape.’

  Corbulo sucked in a breath. ‘The preferred term is “esteemed allies”. To their faces at least.’

  ‘Esteemed allies, yes, sir. Not bastards. Right.’

  Corbulo gave him a withering stare, but Macro did not flinch and gazed back, deadpan. The general turned his attention to Cato.

  ‘Despite what Rhadamistus may think, and what I have just said to him, you will be the commander of the column. I will give you that authority in writing, and since my authority is conferred by the emperor himself, then that should be sufficient to keep Rhadamistus in line. In any case, you must make every effort to keep him on our side.’

  ‘Even at the risk of endangering my men?’