The Emperor's Blood (e-novella)

by M. K. Hume

  Andragathius was speaking in a reasonable voice and he watched keenly as the guardsmen weighed up their predicament. In truth, he felt some sympathy for them but, at the moment, they were wasting his precious time.

  ‘But the magistrate will crucify us for our failure to protect him once you have left our town,’ one of the guards muttered softly. ‘I’d prefer to die at your hands than perish in agony on the cross. I’m sure you understand how it is, sir.’

  ‘I do understand.’

  Then Andragathius turned on Tatius Septimus like an unleashed panther. He was all muscle, violence, bloodlust and animal cunning as far as the magistrate was concerned. ‘What about you, Septimus? Do you understand the quandary in which we have been placed?’

  Septimus had been watching the interplay between the captain and the guards with the mesmerised eyes of a coney that has been trapped by a stoat. He swallowed convulsively and curled into the foetal position.

  ‘No! No! I don’t understand at all.’

  ‘Then let me explain the guards’ problem to you in simple language, Septimus.’

  The magistrate nodded convulsively, and tried to make his well-fed body as small as possible.

  ‘You must surely see that these men know you much better than I do. I think you’re probably just a provincial nobody who collects taxes and helps to keep order in this arse-end of the Empire. I’d like to believe that you’d never, ever try to destroy the lives of these men because you made a wrong choice and supported the wrong side in a struggle. But I’m afraid that your guardsmen don’t think as charitably of you as I am inclined to do. They think you’ll attempt to execute them as soon as my troop rides away. Is that correct, fellows?’

  The four guards nodded wordlessly.

  ‘So! I’m in a quandary, Septimus. If I were to believe these men, I’d have to either kill you, to save their lives, or kill them to spare them from a horrible death at your behest.’ Andragathius grinned nastily. ‘I don’t much like either possibility and I’d prefer to stick to my reading of your character, but I just don’t know what to do . . . not yet!’

  ‘I won’t harm them,’ Septimus wailed desperately.

  ‘I don’t think they believe you,’ Conanus interrupted with a sweet, unnatural smile.

  ‘I’d hate to return in a few days and find them dead, them being fellow brothers-in-arms,’ Andragathius added. ‘You do understand my position, Septimus, don’t you?’

  Tatius Septimus had no idea whether to agree or shake his head so, to his personal embarrassment, he burst into tears once more.

  ‘There you go! You do see the predicament that is laid out before me, Septimus. But I think I have a solution. If you were to give me everything I want, and assure me of your good intentions, I will be prepared to leave you hale and happy, and with a whole skin. I’ll even pay for my requirements. But, when I return in a few days, I’ll be trusting that you will protect these good fellows just as well as you’d care for yourself. Why, I like Cabillonum so much that I’m sure I can find time to drop in periodically, once my master has secured his throne. I know you’d never stoop to taking revenge on loyal servants. Look, these men are prepared to die for you and, in fact, you seem to have the makings of your very own Praetorian Guard. I’m impressed.’

  Conanus snickered from the comfort of his couch and spun his knife so the filtered light played on the dancing blade. He admired his captain’s control and the manner of his toying banter with the venal, self-satisfied magistrate.

  ‘I’ll do anything you say . . . anything you require,’ Septimus muttered, his chins and belly quivering as much as his soft, rouged lips and cheeks.

  ‘There! That short burst of honesty was easy, wasn’t it?’

  The horse captain turned to face the guardsmen.

  ‘Are you satisfied, my good fellows? Or do you want me to make you completely safe?’

  ‘I think we’d all prefer that you allowed the magistrate to live, master. Mostly, he is a good master and he is liberal with food and drink,’ the oldest guard offered cautiously. Thoughts of the consequences that would result from the execution of an imperial servant made the guard feel ill with foreboding.

  ‘Well! That’s decided, so find some servants and organise some food and drink for us.’ One of the guards stumbled out of his trance and snapped to attention. ‘One further matter needs attention, Septimus. Order your servants to arrange for food to be taken to my men. They haven’t broken their fast, so I imagine that they must be starving – just like me!’

  ‘And me,’ Conanus added with a grin.

  ‘I have a list of requirements that I’ll need your guards and servants to hunt up for me. I will give you the list and I’ll also need a serviceable wagon and the appropriate horses to transport these items. You can keep an accounting of all costs and I’ll see to the payment before we leave. Now! Hop to it!’

  The guardsmen scattered and a group of slaves appeared as if by magic, bearing platters of food, including porridge, honey, pitchers of milk and neatly cut slices of fruit. These viands were followed by more trays containing a haunch of beef, half a cheese and several jugs of newly brewed beer. Conanus felt his mouth begin to water from the delicious smells.

  ‘I must compliment you, Septimus, on the quality of your servants and your food. Please, my friend, feel free to help yourself. I suggest we eat and then, when the needs of my men have been met, you can tell me everything you know about Gratian.’

  With a cheerful smile, Andragathius ignored the porridge and sliced away at the thick piece of roast beef, while inhaling the smell of cooked meats with obvious pleasure. With a beatific expression on his face, Conanus also put his knife to good use as well, using a plate to display the dainty good manners of an aristocrat. Although his stomach rebelled at the thought of food, Tatius Septimus used a wooden spoon to fill a bowl with thick porridge and slathered honey over it. He ate tentatively at first, but when the Roman officers took no notice of him he began to eat with more gusto until the sweet, filling glue of the porridge had warmed the cold stone in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps, everything would work out, as long as the Roman with the hot eyes was kept happy.

  With a fervent prayer to his god that he would safely navigate these dangerous waters, Tatius Septimus, Magistrate of Cabillonum, made a considered decision to betray his old emperor and support his successor. After all, he could always change sides again if Maximus should lose.

  Outside the villa in the morning sunshine, Andragathius found that his orders had been obeyed to the letter as he was putting the first part of a slowly devised plot into operation. In the blue sky above the river, a hawk plummeted down to snatch up a fat, careless rabbit that had allowed its wanderings to be seen. Its shrieks of terror were whipped away on the breeze as the hawk soared upwards again, heading for its nest and the almost-grown offspring which were waiting greedily for their share of the rich, bleeding meat. Across the wide carpet of land, some living things killed and other less fortunate beings would die as the never-changing patterns of kill, or be killed, continued daily.

  And Gratian, resting beside the same river, was enjoying a further day’s rest at his encampment that was only five hours away by fast horse. Time and Lady Fortuna had begun to spin her wheel, as the world turned and waited on the outcome.

  CHAPTER V

  An Unexpected Trickery

  We live, not as we wish to, but as we can.

  Menander, The Principal Fragments

  Before midday, the troop had left Cabillonum at a ground-devouring canter. Behind the horsemen, a light wagon was making good time, although it was burdened by a covered object that had excited considerable curiosity among the mixed Roman and British column that was following the captain. The men were replete with good food and beer. One wag suggested that the doomed men had eaten a last, hearty meal, but he had been howled down by h
is friends. The men’s spirits were high, in response to Conanus’s obvious satisfaction and the resolution in Andragathius’s eyes that promised that a hated enemy was about to die.

  The lower ranks amused themselves with gossip about their superior officers and no man was a more favoured subject than Andragathius. His undoubted ability on the battlefield had been mitigated by his lowly birth and his devotion to Flavius Magnus Maximus, another brilliant strategist who was ruled unworthy by the aristocratic classes whose offspring dominated the promotional processes. The cavalrymen felt sympathy for their captain, although his manner could be abrasive, demanding and ruthless.

  ‘He’s one of us,’ one man from northern Gaul pointed out to his fellows. ‘But he’s got a temper on him and I wouldn’t willingly try his patience.’

  ‘And nor would I,’ one of the Britons responded. ‘He’s a hothead all right, but there’s no man I’d rather follow into a tight spot, even a suicidal pursuit like this one.’

  As the cavalcade was riding in almost-companionable harmony, Conanus attempted to extract some information from his commander concerning his intentions. The night had found the Briton unable to sleep as he fretted over the strange wagon, his leader’s secretive habits and the impossible odds they would face when Gratian was before them.

  ‘I’m not quite ready to give you the details of my plan, Conanus. However, I’ll be able to tell you everything when we reach some high, protected place where we can overlook Gratian’s camp and develop my strategy. I’ll explain all you need to know when we get there, so have some patience. I’m still considering the finer points of how we’re going to complete this mission and extricate ourselves.’

  He grinned boyishly and showed his friend an uncharacteristic streak of his humour.

  ‘At that point, you’ll be able to consider the whole plan for yourselves.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Good!’ Andragathius clapped his junior officer on the shoulder. ‘For my part, I’ll be content if I die after we’ve killed Gratian. If I do perish, ensure that you lead as many of our lads back to Maximus as possible and tell him the good news in person. While we’re on this subject, I have one last task that I want you to carry out for me. Check that our fat informant in Cabillonum kept to his word. You’ll know what to do if the vows of Septimus were false and he has taken revenge on his guards.’

  ‘You’re not planning to leave me out of this adventure, are you?’ Conanus asked suspiciously. ‘I’m damned if I’ll miss out on the fun while you garner all the credit.’

  Conanus was only half-joking, but the captain accepted Conanus’s comments at face value with his usual gruff brevity.

  ‘Please cure my curiosity, Andragathius, but there is one question I’d like to ask of you. What is it about Flavius Magnus Maximus that makes you so loyal to him as a man? I’ve never really understood your unquestioning obedience to your commander.’

  ‘Is it wrong to obey our generals and commanders with every drop of our blood?’

  Andragathius raised one sardonic eyebrow.

  ‘I agree that there is nothing wrong with giving due honour to our masters, but you appear to worship General Maximus as if he was a god.’

  Conanus knew he was sticking his neck out by asking such personal questions, but his captain had been acting strangely in recent weeks. Among other oddities, he had been suffering from queer dreams and was often engrossed in thought, characteristics that were foreign to the centurion’s nature.

  Still, the junior officer was quite surprised when the captain bothered to answer him.

  ‘When I was a child, Maximus saved my life at some cost to himself. I have never forgotten the risk he took.’

  Conanus waited for further elaboration, but nothing further was volunteered. Andragathius had retreated back inside his shell and the troop rode on in relative silence for another thirty minutes.

  Suddenly, Andragathius turned in the saddle and beckoned Conanus to join him.

  ‘Can I trust you?’ he asked Conanus.

  Two lines formed between the Briton’s eyes as he frowned with resentment. ‘Just when I was starting to like you, Andragathius, you decide to insult me anew. If I wanted to betray you, I could have done so on hundreds of occasions and many places, including Cabillonum.’

  ‘Granted, Conanus – and I’m aware that you’d never break ranks or turn and run during a battle. Nor do I believe you’d try to connive with our lads to mutiny against their legitimate masters. But you’re impulsive and I’m worried that you might catch sight of Gratian, or his encampment, and have a rush of blood to the head. I would betray my scruples and my master if you were killed during some hare-brained heroics at a time when your common sense was needed to complete our mission successfully.’

  ‘You’ve really offended me now, Andragathius. My head is a damned sight cooler than yours, sir, as I have shown on any number of occasions.’ Conanus realised he was in danger of overstepping the mark and insulting his superior officer for, despite the easy camaraderie of the cavalry, discipline still demanded that the commanding officer should always be treated with respect. ‘I can promise you that I won’t try to kill Gratian, even if he rides up to me and asks for directions to Rome, if that is what you wish.’

  Andragathius waved his hand to indicate that he accepted Conanus’s word. A little mollified, the Briton urged his horse forward so it could walk beside his captain’s roan.

  ‘I’ve been making a point in our discussion for a specific reason. I want you to ride ahead and act as a forward scout . . . but cautiously, mind. It would be disastrous if you saw an opportunity to kill Gratian and took it – only to fail and alert the Praetorian Guard that assassins are in the vicinity and searching for their master. My plan depends on his whole camp being caught unawares. You will keep to the verges of the road on the journey to and from his camp, because the Praetorians are a suspicious lot and they’ll post sentries in the vicinity of their camp. You’ll have to use your native cunning, Conanus, because I need all your observations to be detailed and precise. This information is the last link in the chain and, when we have that crucial last link, we’ll be able to finalise a plan that will allow us to complete our mission. You have wondered at my lack of trust in refusing to reveal my plans to you, but I don’t want you to be prejudiced by information when you are observing Gratian’s camp. Nor do I want you to have information that could be extracted from you if you were to be captured.’

  Conanus saluted his commander crisply. Despite his sense of pride at the responsibility and honour conferred on him, a streak of resentment still stiffened his back.

  ‘I’ll not allow myself to be caught, sir. I’m wagering my life on it! And I’ll return with a plan of the landscape where Gratian’s force has set up their camp. If they’re still on the road, I’ll soon know where Gratian is heading and I’ll be able to inform you how far our column is behind them.’

  Andragathius nodded confidently. ‘I have no doubts about your ability, Conanus. Just don’t get caught! Take two spare horses so you can change mounts when your first horse starts to founder. The column can collect them as we travel in your wake.’

  Attuned to his needs, one of the Roman cavalrymen rode up with two horses that would speed Conanus on his way. He handed the reins to Conanus, saluted the captain and returned to his position without waiting for thanks or acknowledgement.

  Once again, Conanus saluted his captain with the raised and straightened arm that was beloved by the legions. Without further delay, he kicked his mount in the ribs so that warrior and horses sped away at a gallop. Small plumes of dust were raised by the horses’ hooves, so the three steeds seemed to shimmer on a dun and yellow cloud as they moved along the roadway.

  When Conanus mounted the long, steep hill some two hours later, he was still trailing the last of his three horses while he was mounted now o
n the second one. He had been obliged to leave his favourite stallion beside the river in a shadowy grove of trees with midnight-blue shadows and long verdant grass. To ensure the stallion was found, he sacrificed a few minutes to tie his red neckscarf to a sapling near the edge of the roadway. Satisfied, he had continued at a fast canter towards a series of low hills overlooking a wide river valley that lay beyond them.

  At the crest of the furthest hill, Conanus was almost betrayed by the close proximity of Gratian’s bivouac that had been established in a fallow field at the bottom of the slope. A short distance off the road, a bend in the river had been used as security on two sides of the encampment and two low ramparts of wood and earth had been erected on the other two sides. The river itself was roughly parallel to the road and was disguised by a long swathe of trees that, by their density, permitted only the occasional glitter of water to be seen.

  Conanus instantly saw the usefulness of the band of willows, aspens, oaks and hazel that formed a verdant hiding place for any number of horses and men to use as a resting place. The camp was close to a ready source of water and the surrounding meadows were flat and deeply grassed. Even at a distance, he could see the occasional patch of colour where weeds and flowers rioted under the afternoon sunshine.

  Aligned north to south and east to west, the camp seemed secure but, in many of its other visible characteristics, the bivouac could have been a fair, rather than an armed refuge for Roman soldiers who were travelling through an unfriendly landscape.

  A series of tents had been raised, these shelters vividly painted with landscape scenes and fanciful illustrations of mythological creatures. Servants scurried between the tents, while disciplined sentries seemed to be guarding all four entrances to the camp. A number of horses had been picketed close to the river, no doubt with their own guards, while those legionnaires and Praetorians who weren’t on duty seemed to be lounging indolently around their tents and cooking fires.