The Last Caesar

by The Last Caesar (retail) (epub)

  ‘Not nearly enough, you coward. You could at least have had a noble death, in battle, like Sextus. But instead you ran here, hoping I’d do all the hard work for you. Well, here’s your reward.’

  Quick as a whip, I grabbed the dagger from Quintus’s belt and flung it towards Vindex. Its point stuck in the muddy ground with a squelch, just in front of the despicable man.

  Quintus appealed to me. ‘Is this really necessary?’

  I didn’t look at my friend, but kept my eyes fixed on the governor. ‘Either he kills himself with it, or I’ll do it for him. Say your goodbyes, Vindex, you have five minutes.’

  With that, I walked a respectful distance away and turned my back. I could hear him whimpering to Quintus, and chose not to listen. After a few minutes, the blabbering stopped. There was a brief moment of silence, then a faint gushing sound, and then nothing more but the distant echo of an army in flight. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘It’s done,’ Quintus said.

  ‘Good. We need to get moving.’ I started to search for a riderless horse.

  ‘Aren’t we going to bury him?’ my friend asked.

  I stopped, and sighed. ‘What with? Besides, there are hordes of men who want to loot and take prisoners as slaves. We have to move, now.’

  ‘One minute, then.’ Before I had a chance to argue he had run back to his father’s body, and grabbed a handful of dirt. He sprinkled it over the corpse, whispering a short prayer. He took two small coins from somewhere, and laid them over Vindex’s closed eyelids, before bending over to kiss him on the cheek. Finally, he slipped the large golden family ring from his father’s finger, and placed it on his own.

  As much as I had despised the man, it didn’t feel right not giving him a decent burial, but the events of that day had hardened my soul, and I had to put practicality over sentiment. As we searched for a couple of horses, walking side by side, Quintus must have sensed that an explanation was needed, but I didn’t want to interrogate him so soon after the deaths of his brother and father.

  ‘I am not like my father,’ he began.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said acidly.

  ‘Don’t judge him too harshly. He wasn’t the man he thought he was. It seems everybody knew that, except him.’

  ‘And yet you knew he planned to drug me and try to take the glory for himself.’

  He looked at me fiercely with those tear-stained eyes. ‘Actually, he planned to poison you, and tell Galba that you fell in battle. He ordered me to poison your cup, so I gave you a weak sleeping drug instead, and made sure there was a horse tied up nearby when we left camp.’

  I was taken aback. Quintus and I got on well, but I had no idea that he had been willing to disobey his father to protect me.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we needed you. Why else? Father had nothing to do with Albanos’s decision to torture you, though at first he did have him watch you. You saw what father was like. He was proud and stubborn, and he resented how you took over the whole campaign. I don’t know what made him decide to poison you in the end.’

  I did. Every time I went off alone, to talk with Rufus or to do anything important, I had noticed Vindex looking increasingly malcontent. The negotiations yesterday must have been the final straw. That explained why there had been an empty third cup, to use in case Vindex decided that his dignity had not been compromised and that he would spare my life. It dawned on me that I didn’t deserve a friend like Quintus, who had risked his father’s wrath so many times by siding with me, in the interests of the campaign.

  ‘I’m not sure how I can even begin to thank you. It can’t have been easy to disobey your father.’

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Quintus said irritably.

  How can you thank a man for saving your life when you have just pressured his father into committing suicide? There is a poignant moment in the Iliad when old King Priam goes into the tent of Achilles to beg for the body of his son, after the Greek hero had dragged it behind his chariot round the walls of Troy. Yet somehow each man retains respect for the other. That is the nearest comparison I can think of, a blend of pity, anger, remorse and forgiveness. One day I would thank him properly, but all I could say in that moment was ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded his acceptance. Any other thoughts were unspoken.

  Hoping to avoid the pillaging army, we took a detour to the west before heading northwards to the city. It was clear that I had to find General Rufus and discover his intentions, let Galba know what had happened, and if possible stay close to the general and update Galba accordingly.

  We rounded the woods, and had no choice but to head for the Roman camp on foot. If I remembered rightly, it was only another five minutes’ walk beyond the crest of that hill whence the victorious army had come. The wind changed, and began to blow from the east, wafting the stench of death towards us. We were no more than half a mile from the point where Sextus’s inglorious charge had crashed into the Roman flank, but the stink was enough to make you retch. It begins as a sickly sweet smell, but then the rank odour of decaying flesh hits you hard. Quintus bent over double, heaving the contents of his stomach on to the hillside. Already the crows had begun to flock from miles around and were circling above us, summoning up the courage to begin their own scavenging, despite the number of men still on the hilltop.

  My attention was caught by a group of horsemen a short way up the far slope. Why should that be strange on a battlefield, you may ask, but the only cavalry I had seen that day were our own. It was only a small group, about half a dozen, yet they seemed to be standing in a vague semicircle around one man seated on a splendid grey horse, and with an especially fine plume on the crest of his helmet. It had to be General Rufus.

  ‘Come on,’ I urged Quintus. ‘You’re about to meet a general.’

  Quintus looked uncertain, but I ignored his misgivings and began walking at a brisk pace towards the victorious commander.

  As we came near enough, I could hear the tone of the conversation, but not the words. It all sounded like light-hearted chatter, the prerogative of those who had just won an easy victory, I thought to myself. One of the staff officers paused in the conversation to look out on to the field, and noticed the two of us approaching.

  ‘What do you want?’ he called out, curtly.

  ‘Messenger to see General Rufus.’

  ‘You don’t look like couriers.’

  I shrugged, and proffered my bloody sword. ‘We came across the Gauls and had to fight our way through.’

  ‘And at the same time lost your armour and horses? A likely story!’

  ‘Saturninus, may I be permitted to take part in this conversation?’ the general said sarcastically.

  ‘These two men, sir, said they had a message for you. But I think they look more like Gallic fugitives than Roman couriers, don’t you, sir?’

  ‘Don’t try and think, Saturninus, it doesn’t suit you. And what I think is none of your business. I can certainly vouch for one of these men, but I’m not so sure who this other fellow is.’

  He looked closely at Quintus, and before I had a chance to say anything, Rufus’s face brightened. ‘Oh, I remember you now. You must be Vindex’s eldest, Quintus. We were introduced at that dinner your father hosted in Lugdunum.’

  It took a few seconds and several gasps from his entourage before he realized his mistake. He had just publicly identified my friend as the son of Gaul’s, if the not empire’s, most wanted man. The careless remark was as good as a death sentence.

  All of a sudden there were cries of ‘Traitor!’, and worse, and the staff officers made to seize Quintus. Reacting quickly, I clasped a hand to Quintus’s shoulder, and declared: ‘This man is my prisoner!’

  ‘Your prisoner? Then why is he armed?’ one of them asked.

  ‘He gave me his word.’

  ‘His word!’ another sneered. ‘Why would you trust a grubby little Gaul?’

  ‘Because he is a senator of Rome, or at least he will be soon. Vin
dex is dead, which makes his son here of senatorial rank.’

  ‘Then who are you to take a senator prisoner?’ asked the first officer, Saturninus.

  ‘Senator Caecina Severus, formerly of the Twentieth Valeria Victrix, with the thanks of the Senate. And you are…?’

  I do love pulling rank sometimes. The young subaltern took a moment to compose himself. ‘Tribune Cornelius Saturninus…’ I glowered at him, ‘…sir.’

  ‘Then, Tribune, you can give me your horse while I have a talk with the general back in his quarters.’

  Sheepishly, the young man dismounted and offered me the reins to his horse. I thought it would be pushing it a bit to demand another horse for Quintus, so instead I manoeuvred beside Rufus and said, ‘After you, General.’

  Rufus nodded courteously, and then turned to one of the aides. ‘Send a message to the Legate Valens, asking him to meet me in my quarters as soon as possible. We shall be interrogating the prisoner.’

  We trotted back to camp slowly, so that Quintus would not be left flagging behind us. I was about to ask the general something, but he cut me off.

  ‘Not yet, if you please. I would rather we had a private conversation, and not within earshot of half the army.’ So we carried on in silence, except when we entered the camp. There were almighty cheers from the men, and their proud general thanked them for their reaction, and congratulated individuals for various acts of valour on the battlefield. Eventually we got past the joyous throng, and at last reached the relative security of Rufus’s tent.

  You might well think that the heart of a Roman camp is one of the safest places to be, but I was very unsure of my political position. Had Rufus had second thoughts when he returned from the negotiations last night? Would he remain loyal, and turn us over to Nero? I must say, a traitor’s death was not an appealing one. Valens was already inside, waiting for us.

  ‘Ah, Valens, you received my message then?’

  The legate looked at Rufus with one of those frosty, superior gazes. ‘Evidently, sir.’

  Rufus ignored the barb, and began to divest himself of his heavy armour. ‘Well, what a pickle, eh?’

  That was an understatement if ever I heard one.

  ‘First of all,’ continued the general, ‘I am sorry for your loss, Quintus. I had only met your father briefly, but he seemed a decent enough man, even if we were on opposite sides today. He must have had a great tactical mind; you almost defeated my army this morning.’

  Quintus forced himself to smile. ‘The credit must go to your fellow senator, General. My father was… indisposed during the battle.’

  ‘Congratulations then, Severus! It was some damn fine soldiering, taking all our spears before luring us into the woods. Such a good move, in fact, that I decided to copy it.’

  ‘Glad I could be of help, sir,’ was all I could think to say. ‘But with respect, might I ask why the army marched this morning?’

  ‘There was damn all I could do to stop them. I had ordered the men on parade to discuss the, ah, unique situation we find ourselves in, when one of the sentries burst in to announce that an army was drawing itself up less than a mile away. Trumpets were sounded, officers rallied their men, and we were off to battle. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways, isn’t that right, Valens?’

  Valens nodded. ‘It could be said that the army commanded their general today.’

  Rufus stiffened at that. ‘I’d be much obliged, Legate, if you didn’t make witticisms like that in my presence, and even more if you didn’t make them at all.’

  ‘Yes, General.’

  ‘If I might interrupt,’ I said, ‘we need to discuss the immediate future. As far as I’m concerned, Gaul has lost a small militia force, and that is it. The fact remains that Nero is a dangerous lunatic, and that Galba is more than qualified to do the job. The question, General, is whether you still stand by what you said last night. Do you?’

  Rufus took his time before replying, and no wonder. It was a politician’s question, though asked in simple, blunt, military terms.

  ‘Speaking for myself, I agree that Nero ought to go, and that Galba is much better placed than most to succeed him, but I don’t see my command as a political role. This has to be done constitutionally, or not at all.’

  ‘I would add that it’s unlikely that the troops here will support the man whose army they have just defeated,’ said Valens.

  ‘That is true,’ I conceded. ‘But what about the legions which aren’t here, the ones further down the Rhine? Could they not be persuaded?’

  ‘I reckon I could probably sway the senior officers, but our governor, Fonteius Capito, I can’t speak for. He cares too much about money and his own sordid pleasures to involve himself in politics.’

  ‘Then it is clear what has to be done. The myth of the Gallic rebellion will have to be presented as fact, so that we can dissociate Galba from the shambles of this morning. General, I would recommend making another attempt to address your men later today, and I can guarantee that there will be no army to interrupt you this time.’

  That brought a small chuckle from Rufus, but for obvious reasons was a little too macabre for Quintus. It was Quintus now who spoke: ‘And what am I to do?’

  I gazed sadly at my friend. ‘You must return to your family, they will need you now. And then you might take up your father’s role in Gaul. I know that you are not yet a senator, but someone needs to replace your father, and I can think of none better. But on reflection I would not live in Lugdunum if I were you. Vienne would be much safer.’

  ‘Well, I think that seems to be everything settled,’ Rufus declared. ‘And what will the two of you do now?’

  ‘I should like to return to what’s left of my family as soon as possible, sir,’ said Quintus.

  ‘Of course. And you, Severus?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, I should like to stay with the army, sir. I reckon I could be of more use to Galba here than back in my province.’

  ‘I shall have some quarters fitted out for you shortly, then, with a proper uniform to go with it, if you’re going to wander round the camp, that is.’

  ‘That would be most kind, General. Thank you.’

  With that, Quintus and I made a polite bow, and left the confines of Rufus’s tent.

  ‘Right, if I’m to go to Vienne, I’ll need a horse!’

  ‘You’re going already?’ I asked.

  ‘As you said, the region needs a governor, and there’s not much I can do here. If you wish to reach me, I’m sure Lugubrix will still be useful. Besides, I need some time alone.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Quintus, young and innocent as he was, was not the sort to discuss his feelings openly, but preferred to wrestle with them alone. So I did not pursue the matter, and rested my hand on his shoulder, and he likewise, before we embraced in a tight hug.

  ‘I promise you, Quintus, I will do everything I can to help you and your family. You will be a senator of Rome now. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.’

  Breaking free, I looked into those boyish eyes of his and said, ‘May the gods be with you, Brother.’

  He grimaced. ‘Not today, Brother. They aren’t with me today.’

  * * *

  All the men under Rufus’s command paraded right after the evening meal. I had donned the uniform of a tribune once again and stood a short distance to the side of the general’s platform, so as to hear him and watch the army’s reaction at the same time.

  The entire army was in camp that evening. After hearing that Vindex’s army had been crushed, the city of Vesontio had surrendered almost immediately, offering up their stores of goods and grain to the legions. All the foragers and various detachments had been recalled to hear what their general had to say. I watched them filing out of the mess tents: some were still scraping the last morsels from their canteens, others were showing off the plunder they had scavenged from the fallen, others still were retelling stories of their brave exploits against the Gallic
hordes.

  Slowly, the formidable centurions and optios began to direct the men into ranks, as the legions formed up in front of the rostrum. Each legion commander stood at the foot of the podium, facing his own legion. Valens was there, in front of the First Germanica, so called because in its entire history the legion had barely ever left the Rhine frontier. The Twenty-Second Primigenia stood in pristine order next to Valens’s legion, and after that came the Fourth Macedonica. A young-looking tribune stood at their head, as I gathered the legate had died in the battle. The remaining space was filled by the smaller detachments of legions from Lower Germania, as well as some auxiliary units. These were Germanic tribesmen who had left their wild lives east of the Rhine and served Rome, in return for food, steady pay, and the chance of Roman citizenship after twenty years of loyal service. Normally these mercenaries served a long way from home, but Rufus had obviously decided that since the enemy were Gauls, and not the empire itself, it would not be too great a risk to use them on the campaign.

  Any chattering in the ranks died away the moment Rufus emerged from his quarters. Resplendent in silver armour, and with many medals dangling over his chest, he ascended the steps on to the platform and positioned himself for the speech.

  Good generals tend to be good orators, as a lifetime in the Senate is the ultimate arena for rhetoric. Aside from the law courts, that is. I did not know much of Rufus’s military background; for years now, Nero had been appointing nonentities and incompetents to important positions, lest he should be outshone. Look what happened to Corbulo. But a man does not get to be consul by being a useless politician, normally, so I was eager to hear how the general would deal with the problem ahead, playing politics with his own soldiers.

  Rufus stood stock still, milking the silent anticipation of tens of thousands of faithful soldiers, all waiting to hear what he had to say. Slowly, he raised his arms high and wide, as though he was trying to encompass each and every one of them in an embrace.

  ‘Soldiers,’ he cried, ‘the gods smiled upon you this day. An insidious army of foolhardy Gauls dared to challenge the might of the empire, and you, the mightiest of that might, have conquered!’