At last we came to the back wall of the building. There on the brick floor was a great trapdoor, so big the old officer needed a hand to lift it. The trapdoor was a brute to lift. I looked down, expecting to see nothing but pitch black, but there was a faint, flickering light that revealed the beginning of a stone staircase. Tuscus went first, a set of keys jingling in his hand as he made his precarious way down the steps.
‘Would you close the trapdoor behind us, sir? We can’t have some nosy clerk following us.’
‘What about a torch?’ I asked.
‘No need. The torches at the bottom give enough light to see by.’
I was hesitant. I had braved battlefields and torture, but if there is one thing I cannot bear it is confined spaces. Taking a deep breath, I followed Tuscus underground.
I could see the prefect ahead of me, and I could just make out some shapes at the bottom of the tunnel. As I paused, the darkness seemed to crowd about me. The timber props in the tunnel wall seemed so close I could almost make out the curve of the grain. Keeping one hand firmly planted on the wall, I edged carefully down the steps, not trusting myself to look all the way down to the bottom but keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead. Eventually, I made out the two shapes at the bottom to be guards, standing either side of a stout door. Tuscus spun the keys on his finger impatiently.
Pulling myself together, I came down those last few steps as nonchalantly as I could manage, not wanting to lose face in front of the guards. Tuscus busied himself with the keys, muttering as he jiggled them in the lock, obviously having forgotten which key was which. At last the lock clicked, and Tuscus swung the door open.
My eyes were greeted with a sight to make a poor man weep. On my left was the entire wealth of the Fourth Legion, and on my right was that of the Twenty-Second. On each side were hundreds of denarii neatly stacked in identical columns, piled around a solid-looking chest, each protected by a hefty padlock. There was enough gold in those strongboxes to pay an entire legion for three months!
But I wasn’t here to look at the gold. Directly ahead there seemed to be a strange collection of weapons propped up against the back wall. The torchlight danced about the chamber, so I had to force myself further into that cramped place to have a better look. Then I understood. Two small alcoves had been carved into the wall, some two paces apart and at about shoulder height. Beneath the right-hand alcove was an assortment of barbarian weaponry, mainly German. The left-hand pile was far more varied. I recognized German spears, and slings from Hispania, their leather darkened and stiff with age. These rested at the foot of a beautiful Celtic shield, painted with swirls of blue and green. I even found a solitary gladius in the mix. These were the weapons of the legion’s enemies since the day it was founded, laid to rest beneath the niche in the wall that I had come to see, the home of the legion’s eagle.
I bowed my head in respect, and was about to sink to my knees in prayer when Tuscus coughed loudly. The prefect began to unwrap the bundle he had brought down from his office. When the last knot was undone, he pulled away the cloth covering and revealed a new set of weapons. It was mostly a ragtag collection, a rusty conical helmet that the Gauls sometimes use, an old shield boss and a few daggers. But I recognized the pride of the spoils, a pair of finely crafted swords with the telltale Celtic swirls etched into the iron. There was a lump in my throat as I remembered when I had last seen them, in the hands of Bormo as he swung and slashed his way into the Roman army at Vesontio.
Tuscus held out the weapons, expecting me to make the offering to the eagle. I just couldn’t. I mumbled something about not knowing the proper ritual, and asked him to do it instead. How could I, the legion’s new commander, dedicate an offering to my new legion’s eagle that was made up of the weapons of my Gallic companions? It would have been blasphemous to the gods, and disrespectful to those brave men who had died for a cause that wasn’t of their making. I had meant to say my own prayer to the eagle, but when Tuscus had finished making the offering I told him that I had seen enough and wanted to go back upstairs.
Hurriedly, I led the way out of the room and back up that suffocating tunnel. As Tuscus locked the door, it was as if I was leaving the past few months behind me, buried deep with Bormo’s swords.
XVIII
The lady Cotta left the next day, at last abandoning the villa that was going to be my home for the foreseeable future. It was a sumptuous place. Of course not quite as grand as, say, Galba’s palace in Tarraco, or even my villa back in Corduba. At least there I’d had a splendid view that stretched for miles across the achingly beautiful plains of Baetica. This view was… well, how shall I put it? German.
It was high summer, the month of Augustus, and the climate could hardly be described as pleasant. The mist from the valley moved sluggishly before eventually breaking up under the sun’s feeble rays. There were the edges of the great German forest beyond the Rhine. In short, nothing spectacular, but it was home now and I would have to make do. Totavalas had little enough to bring from my temporary quarters, and I decided that it would be safest to leave everything as it was, knowing full well that my wife would soon turn the place upside down and back to front to create the perfect look. You know how women are.
Actually, Cotta’s wife had taken several cartloads of furniture with her, so there was little to sort out. Those first days felt very strange, being alone in that big, empty place. Totavalas was thrilled to have the slave quarters all to himself. That would soon change. Soon there would be cooks, cleaning girls, janitors, an ornatrix, slaves for show, a tutor for Aulus, then the house would be teeming. I had a letter from Salonina saying that their little convoy had set off and would be with me very soon. She’d asked her father for some money to finance the journey, and couldn’t wait to be with me again. She was also bringing a new tutor along for Aulus, one who could teach him all the subjects now that the specialists in Rome were out of reach. I was sure that Aulus would love growing up with the army, there would be so much for him to do. The soldiers might even take a shine to him; after all, they did to Caligula!
I passed the days waiting for them handling the bureaucracy, taking parades, drinking in the officers’ mess, learning everyone’s names, that sort of thing. I mean, being stationed on the Rhine isn’t the most active posting, not like in Britannia, where three legions barely controlled half the island. The veterans in the legion probably saw Vindex’s rebellion as a pleasant diversion from camp life, and wouldn’t expect another chance like that for several years. The tribes in Germania are fierce, but not stupid. They know they can never hope to defeat us without great numbers, and for that their tribes would have to unite. Fortunately there was about as much friendship between them as between a mass of rats in a sack.
Things were quiet now, though, so quiet in fact that I decided to head into the town and buy a present for my wife. Jewellery is always a pretty safe bet with Salonina, but apparently I lack taste. So I brought Totavalas with me; these Celts have a fine eye when it comes to precious stones and craftsmanship. I was in full uniform except for a helmet; I like to think I have few vices, but I have to admit that vanity is one of them. Plus, the market-sellers would hardly dare to con a senior Roman officer. I was idly browsing through a collection of amber necklaces when I felt a hand on my arm.
My hand darted down, gripped my sword hilt, and I spun round, the tip of my sword at my assailant’s throat. I was a flick of the wrist away from puncturing the impudent fellow for laying his hand on an army officer, when I saw the shock of ginger hair, and the nervous smile.
‘Lugubrix! I might have killed you!’
‘You still might, unless you put that sword away,’ the Gaul riposted.
‘Sorry,’ I said, sheathing my sword. ‘But what do you expect if you creep up behind me and put your grubby little hand near my nice clean uniform?’
‘It is a smart uniform, I’ll grant you. Legate of the Fourth Legion, you must be delighted. Makes a change, doesn’t it?’
I pau
sed. ‘Shall we talk somewhere a bit less public?’
‘My thoughts exactly. There’s a tavern a couple of streets down, the landlord knows me.’
‘Sounds fine. Come on, Totavalas, shopping’s over.’
Totavalas made to follow, but Lugubrix put out his hand to stop him. ‘Friend of yours?’
‘Slave, actually. He’s a Celt too, as a matter of fact.’
There was a very brief conversation between my old friend and my new slave. Lugubrix seemed satisfied, and we were on our way.
‘So what brings you to this fine town, Lugubrix?’ I asked.
‘Business.’
‘Just business?’
Lugubrix grinned. ‘That can wait.’
* * *
We wound our way down a couple of back streets towards the river. You could tell this was a shadier part of town just by looking at the cobbles. They were darkened by flecks of dirt and scraps of rubbish that would have been swept up in the middle of town, and each cobble was rough and bumpy, laid at the same time as the smarter town centre but not worn smooth by countless footsteps.
‘Is it much further? I don’t have a good history with riverside inns.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s just round the corner.’
It was a drab little place, but then I suppose if all you’re after is a cheap drink, you aren’t particular about where you have it. The mortar was crumbling and grey, the door didn’t quite fit in its frame, but I was only going in there for a talk, not a bed. Lugubrix caught the eye of the landlord, then tossed him a coin.
‘My usual table free, Bel?’
‘Anything for you, Lugubrix,’ the landlord said.
‘Belenus,’ my friend told me, ‘owes me a favour or two.’
We were shown to a back room, with a solitary table and a bench on either side.
‘A beer for me, and a cup of decent wine for my friend. Make sure we’re not disturbed please, Bel.’
Totavalas spoke up. ‘Shall I wait outside, master?’
I thought about it for a moment. If he was going to be my body slave, I would have to trust him sooner or later. ‘No, you can stay. Just stand by the door and keep quiet.’
‘Also,’ said Lugubrix, ‘have a check through the cracks in the door now and again to make sure no one is eavesdropping. Now, to business.’
‘Have you heard from Quintus?’ I asked.
Lugubrix looked surprised. ‘You don’t want to hear the big news first?’
‘That can keep for a few minutes. How’s Quintus?’
‘Emotionally shattered. What do you expect? He’s lost almost his entire family.’
‘Is he still in Lugdunum?’
‘No, Galba has appointed a man called Junius Blaesus to replace Vindex, and when this man Blaesus arrived, Quintus went back to his family with the Aquitani.’
‘Are you going to see him any time soon? I’d like you to give him a message.’
‘I might see him next month, I suppose. What’s the message?’
‘If he wants it, I could keep the post of tribune aside for him. My current tribune goes back to Rome at the end of the year.’
‘You’ve grown quite fond of the lad, haven’t you?’
‘He was a good, loyal friend. It’s the least I could do. He’d do a good job too, I mean, he’s probably the most experienced man of his age in the entire empire!’
‘Very true. I’ll pass on the message, I promise.’
‘Thank you, Lugubrix. Now, you said you had big news…’
‘Huge news, more like. Fonteius Capito has been killed. By two of his legates, Cornelius Aquinus and Fabius Valens.’
Valens! I thought. What was that ambitious snake up to now?
‘Killed? Why?’ I asked.
‘Valens proclaimed that Capito was planning to march south with his legions and declare himself emperor, and had asked the legates to join him in the conspiracy. Of course, Valens and Aquinus, as loyal servants of the Senate and People of Rome, saw no honourable course open to them except to kill him with their own hands.’ Lugubrix clearly had the same low opinion of Valens as I did.
‘Valens killed his own commander? That’s hardly going to endear him to the legions. They would probably have followed Capito, drunken sot that he was. How did the troops take the news?’
‘Somehow, he managed to convince them to swear an oath of allegiance to Galba.’
‘Galba!’ I said, astonished.
‘I know. Valens doesn’t exactly strike me as the self-sacrificing type. But it makes a lot more sense when you hear what really happened.’
There was a loud knock, and my eyes darted to the door.
‘Your drinks are here, sirs,’ a female voice called out.
‘Let them in, Totavalas.’ The slave cautiously opened the door and a young serving girl came in, carrying a full tankard of beer, an old goblet and a skin of wine. We said nothing as she set the cups down on the table, and steadily began to pour my wine. I was aching to hear the news, and the stream of crimson liquid seemed to spill almost lazily into the cup. At long last the girl left, and Lugubrix could continue.
‘It was Valens and Aquinus who approached Capito, pledging their support if he declared himself emperor. For whatever reason, Capito refused. Maybe he realized he wasn’t up to it, or maybe he was afraid to take the risk. So, this leaves Valens and Aquinus with a problem. They have revealed to the governor that they are more interested in personal power than allegiance to Nero or the Senate, and are on the brink of mutiny. Rather than risk Capito reporting their treachery, they murder him, on the pretext that it was Capito and not them who was being disloyal.’
‘And the only way to save face in front of the men is to claim you acted in a noble cause,’ I surmised, ‘by pretending that Capito was the conspirator. Capito is dead, the legates do not lose face, but gain the approval of the next emperor by winning the loyalty of the lower Rhine legions. It’s genius.’
‘Cold-blooded, ruthless genius, but genius, I grant you,’ Lugubrix agreed.
‘But how do you know all this while the legions don’t?’
The Gaul smiled. ‘I’m afraid I make a point of never revealing my source. It would be bad for business. I swear by Toutatis, or Jupiter if you like, that it is the truth.’
I was stunned. I knew Valens was an ambitious bastard, but plotting a conspiracy, murdering your governor and doing a quick about-turn to save your own hide, all in a matter of days, was sheer bloody brilliance. The only good thing to come out of this whole business was that the troops in Lower Germania had now sworn their allegiance to Galba. Nothing could stop him now.
‘Lugubrix, there’s something I have to do.’
‘I understand. The latrines are out the back.’
I chuckled. ‘Not that. It’s politics. What do you know about our governor, Verginius Rufus?’
‘Not a lot. I’d heard he’s a strict constitutionalist, that he’d just sit tight and let events pass him by.’
‘Well, let’s just say he’s thinking of stirring himself.’
There was a flash of understanding across Lugubrix’s face. ‘You’d better hurry, then.’
We both stood up, and I took his arm in mine. ‘Thank you, old friend. You will get that message to Quintus, won’t you?’
‘Right away. And if you ever need to get word to me, give a letter to Belenus and it’ll reach me.’
‘Won’t it be opened?’ I asked.
‘Not in my network it won’t. Go on, I’ve got some more business to do here.’
‘Thank you again.’ I picked up my untouched goblet and drained it in one, the wine’s sharpness leaving a vinegary taste. I reached inside my tunic and fished out a small bag of coins, taking out a denarius and throwing the bag to the slave.
‘Have another drink, Lugubrix,’ I said, laying the coin on the table. ‘Totavalas, I want you to go back to the marketplace and buy that amber necklace I was looking at. Get the best price you can, then go back to the villa. I’ll be back
in an hour at the most.’
* * *
Rufus’s quarters in the town were more functional than fashionable, I thought to myself as I sat in his atrium while a house slave went and fetched him. Inasmuch as a man can be judged by his house and its contents, there was little to surprise me. There were no gaudy decorations, no expensive souvenirs from campaigns around the world, just a few benches and pot plants surrounding the impluvium, the small pool that caught the rainwater from the square opening in the roof.
I heard the sound of footsteps smacking along the corridor, and sure enough Rufus came into the hall, clad in thick sandals and a luxurious-looking tunic. His face was tired and wrinkled. I almost felt sorry for what I was about to say.
I rose. ‘Governor, I’m sorry to have to speak so bluntly, but there is no way that you can be the new emperor.’
Rufus raised his hands as if to calm me down. ‘Severus, please…’
‘I’m sorry, Governor, but I will be heard on this. I have important news from Lower Germania. Fonteius Capito has been murdered by the legates Aquinus and Valens, because he would not countenance their plans to make him emperor. After the murder, the legates claimed it was Capito who was the plotter, not them, and have convinced their legions to swear an oath of allegiance to Galba.’
Rufus stood there, stunned. His eyes narrowed, as though trying to understand the enormity of what I had just said.
‘It’s over, sir. The legions down the Rhine as well as my own have sworn allegiance to the Senate and to Galba. They cannot follow Capito, and now they will not follow you.’
He still looked confused. ‘Capito dead, you say?’
‘Yes, sir, dead.’
Rufus told the slave to leave us, and slowly approached me.
The Last Caesar Page 21