The Hadrian Legacy

by Gavin Chappell

  ‘I found the fort almost deserted. The Caledonians were attacking the Wall, as we knew was the plan, but word of attack from the west had been received—you’ll never guess where from! —and a sizeable vexillation had been sent south to Lindum. At that point no one knew where the attack was going to strike, and vexillations had also been sent to Deva to find the place deserted. But the legionaries met a messenger from Kanovium, and learnt that it was Londinium we needed to protect.’

  ‘We must have just missed each other in Deva. I passed through it after the mutiny. Nasty. I suppose Marcius Magnus joined us there, but I didn’t see him until later, and it wasn’t until he turned up in the procurator’s office that everything fell into place. So you got word from Kanovium! That must mean Segovesus got through. They killed him, you know, caught him and killed him, the bastards. But you said word of attack had been received, and I’ll never guess who from. Well, I’m no good a guessing games. Tell me!’

  ‘He can tell you himself,’ Drustica said.

  They had reached the headquarters building and she took him through to the commander’s quarters, where the guards let them into the midst of a heated discussion. Platorius Nepos was there, surrounded by several officers, the presiding figure over a massacre which had almost claimed Flaminius’ own life. Speaking to him impatiently was a familiar bluff figure.

  ‘…would never have received word of this rising if it hadn’t been for the Commissary,’ Junius Italicus was saying. ‘Besides, we answer only to the emperor. You can’t kick us out of the province!’

  ‘I’m requesting that you leave,’ the governor replied. ‘You’ve done your job. Now it’s the responsibility of the legions to clean up your mess.’

  Flaminius was incensed. ‘That’s a little harsh, governor,’ he said coldly. ‘We did our best. The rebellion would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t had word of it beforehand.’

  ‘Who in Hades are you?’ Platorius Nepos demanded. ‘One of the rebels?’ He looked Flaminius up and down in horror, lip curling. ‘Guards! Have this barbarian removed!’

  Flaminius showed him his brooch. ‘Tribune Gaius Flaminius Drusus reporting, sir.’ He tore the serpent stone from round his neck, and flung it away. ‘And what I said is true.’

  ‘Tell that to the men, women and children beheaded or violated by the rebels,’ said Platorius Nepos. ‘While you and your colleagues were playing cloak and dagger without reference to me, the supreme representative of the emperor in this province, the rebels and the Caledonians were planning wide scale slaughter. When I left the Wall to come to Londinium’s defence, the Caledonian attack was still being supressed, though they’ve since been chased back into the heather. If you knew all about their plans, as Centurion Italicus says, why didn’t you warn me sooner?’

  Flaminius was tired, and he had only recently narrowly avoided death—not for the first time in recent weeks. Manfully, he kept his patience.

  ‘We had nothing to tell you except vague rumblings of rebellion,’ he said. ‘We infiltrated Dumnorix’s Troop, the troop that had murdered Pulcher, and waited until we were able to find out the facts. That took time. And when we knew what was happening, getting the information to the right sources was difficult. Besides, I no longer knew who to trust.’

  ‘So you went rogue,’ said the governor. ‘Didn’t discuss it with me, man to man, you just joined the rebels.’ He grunted. ‘Heard some very strange rumours about you, tribune.’

  Flaminius sighed. ‘All this is of no consequence. The fact is, the men responsible for the rebellion are getting away.’ He rubbed his bruised head. ‘They may already have got away. I had the Archdruid himself as my prisoner until he escaped.’

  The governor stared at him. So did Drustica and Junius Italicus.

  ‘The Archdruid?’ Drustica asked.

  ‘When was this?’ asked Platorius Nepos. ‘How did he get away? Where is he now?’

  ‘I was knocked unconscious by some of his men,’ Flaminius said. ‘Some time afterwards I awoke only to find myself about to be decapitated. Poetic justice, I suppose, or it would be, had I been a headhunting bagauda’—he thought it better not to mention that he had indeed been one for a while— ‘I don’t know how long I was unconscious. As for the Archdruid—or Lucius Julius Corvus, as we knew him better—I should think he’s at sea by now.’

  Half an hour later they were all aboard a ship sailing downstream. ‘We should be looking for a galley with red sails emblazoned with a golden lion,’ Flaminius said.

  The procurator’s galley had been missing from the wharf when they reached the riverbank, and Flaminius had used his powers as a Commissary agent to commandeer the nearest vessel. The skipper had looked about to argue when he saw Platorius Nepos himself had joined them.

  Now Londinium was far behind. The river had less traffic than Flaminius remembered from his previous journeys. Word of the revolt had spread, discouraging potential visitors.

  Platorius Nepos came down from the stern where he had been talking to the helmsman. ‘Feller’s counselling caution,’ the governor said, disappointedly. ‘We’re entering an area of dangerous shoals as we reached the mouth of the estuary. We don’t want to run aground.’

  ‘If we waste time we’ll not catch up with the man,’ said Drustica, scowling at the passing waters.

  ‘If we hit a sandbank we’ll never catch up with him,’ said Junius Italicus. ‘We don’t want to end up like that ship.’ He pointed at a galley that seemed to have run aground near the north bank of the estuary. Its sails were furled and its crew were trying to push it off using the oars. Even as they watched, escaping galley slaves flooded over the side and began swimming for shore. Crewmen started shooting arrows at the fugitives.

  ‘Quite right!’ Platorius Nepos said.

  Flaminius went astern and spoke with the helmsman. The ship approached the stranded galley.

  ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’ the governor asked, as the crew weighed anchor a little way off. ‘We want to be after that Archdruid.’

  ‘I think we should see what’s happening here.’ Flaminius led them to a boat. Accompanied by legionaries, they rowed across to the stranded vessel.

  Flaminius, first to climb aboard, found a scene of confusion. Galley slaves were fighting their way up from below while men in auxiliary uniforms were fending them off. At the stern stood a small group looking despairingly at the chaos.

  Flaminius recognised Metellus first; to his surprise the man was leading the rebellious galley slaves against the auxiliaries. Watching him in horror was Marcius Magnus, Epasias—and Corvus. Flaminius was not entirely surprised. He had recognised the ship itself from his earlier voyage to Londinium.

  Corvus had caught sight of them. ‘Never mind the slaves—’ware boarders!’

  A decurion saw Flaminius and the others coming over the side and shouted orders. Several of the bagaudae broke off from the fight with Metellus and the escaping slaves and turned to face the legionaries. One of them ran straight for Flaminius. He recognised Bellomarus, his face seamed with new scars, but having survived the fall from his horse at the battle on the Verulamium road.

  ‘Traitor!’ The man swung a blow at Flaminius with a blood-spattered sword. Flaminius forced the bagauda back in a hail of blows.

  ‘I’m no traitor,’ he spat. ‘You served Rome, and you betrayed her.’ He cut in low but Bellomarus parried the attack. By now they were in the waist of the ship. All around them figures were fighting. Escaping slaves continued to leap over the side.

  ‘I served my people.’ Bellomarus thrust his sword at Flaminius’ throat. Flaminius parried. ‘My people! Who you Romans have crushed beneath your heels for generations!’

  ‘To the strong belong all things,’ Flaminius replied.

  ‘Typical Roman sentiment,’ Bellomarus snarled.

  ‘I was quoting the Gauls who sacked Rome,’ Flaminius replied. Bellomarus opened his mouth to speak and Flaminius cut in low, hacking through the man’s knee. Bellomarus
fell to the deck.

  Flaminius stepped over him. Passing the furled sails, he reached the stern, where Corvus was surveying the fight with horror on his face, Epasias and Marcius Magnus beside him. Flaminius brandished his sword and pointed.

  ‘Archdruid!’ he shouted. ‘We’re coming for you!’

  Corvus turned and ran to the rail. Epasias tried to seize hold of him. As Flaminius approached, he shrugged her off and leapt overboard.

  Flaminius reached the stern. Epasias turned to look coolly at him. Marcius Magnus sprang away from his bloody blade. ‘I had nothing to do with any of it,’ the fat little man wailed. ‘They forced me to join them. I’m a loyal citizen!’

  ‘Silence, Magnus,’ said Epasias. ‘The tribune doesn’t wish to hear your screeching.’ She approached Flaminius, eyeing him boldly. ‘Such a strong man,’ she breathed. ‘A conqueror.’

  She locked her eyes with his. ‘You don’t need that sword,’ she said. ‘We’re all friends here. Corvus has gone to the Otherworld, we can forget what has passed. Let us depart in peace.’

  Her eyes seemed to grow larger. The noise of the fight receded into the mists of Flaminius’ mind. He felt the soft touch of her hand on the inside of his elbow and involuntarily he lowered his sword. Still those eyes gazed into his.

  ‘You are our friend,’ she breathed. ‘You will assist us in our departure. We do not wish to throw ourselves to our deaths like Corvus. You will take us to the shore in your little boat.’

  ‘But the governor,’ he began.

  ‘The governor need not know,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he’s our friend.’

  Flaminius was no longer sure who she meant by “we.” He had a feeling that Marcius Magnus had left, but everything beyond the druidess’ eyes was hazy and uncertain.

  ‘You are our friend,’ she went on. ‘I knew it from that first time we walked together in the villa gardens.’ She touched his cheek, his brow, his neck. He couldn’t move. His head felt heavy. What was she doing to him? He tried to struggle, but couldn’t persuade his muscles to work.

  ‘You will be well rewarded when we return,’ she added. ‘We will live there safe, in the depths of the forest. Safe. Safe. Safe like in the old times, when the forest was our home. Give me the sword.’ Flaminius’ arm moved without his volition, extending the sword hilt first to the woman.

  He heard a thunder of feet on the deck, another blade flashed, then Epasias jerked, choked, and vomited blood, staring down in wonder at the sword that had pinned her to the stern post.

  ‘What were you doing?’ Drustica demanded.

  Flaminius turned slowly to look at her as she tried to tug the sword back out of Epasias’ limp body.

  ‘What’s happened to the procurator?’ asked Junius Italicus’ voice. ‘Sir, we’ve taken control of the vessel. Now I’m aboard, I recognise it as the procurator’s galley. Tribune Metellus here, he says he freed the galley slaves and steered it onto the sandbank deliberately so Corvus would get caught. But where’s Corvus?’

  Flaminius shook his head, cleared the cobwebs from his mind. He looked up from Epasias’ corpse and said, ‘He jumped ship.’

  Junius Italicus stood there, Metellus at his side, the tribune looking both exultant and fearful. Flaminius gave him a weary look. The man had seen which way the wind blew.

  They went to the rail. Drustica peered over the side. She gave a low laugh.

  Flaminius leaned over to see a figure floundering desperately in the mud below them. Looking up, it revealed the angry face of Lucius Julius Corvus, procurator of the province of Britain. The Archdruid.

  ‘Help me!’ he shouted up at them. ‘Help me!’ It was not a request. Even in this direst of straits, Corvus did not beg. It was an order.

  —35—

  The following day they were all present in what had been the procurator’s office. Platorius Nepos sat behind the desk.

  ‘The Caledonians are routed, and now their leader has been taken from them, the rebel auxiliaries are directionless,’ the governor told them. ‘Men of the Sixth, the Second and the Twentieth are combining to hunt down the remaining rebels. The Wall will remain heavily garrisoned, but I intend to strengthen positions in the south.’

  ‘Good,’ said Flaminius. ‘Hadrian’s legacy to this province was strong defences but a soft underbelly. Keep the underbelly protected as well, and peace will prevail.’

  ‘After all, sir, lose Britain and you might lose Gaul,’ Junius Italicus said, ‘as Corvus intended. And that would be a loss too close to Rome.’

  Platorius Nepos nodded complacently.

  ‘If you want to keep a hold of Britain,’ Drustica interrupted, ‘you would do well to listen to the concerns of Britons. Last time I spoke to you, governor, I told you of my people’s plight.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Platorius Nepos. ‘I remember your petition. I’ll consider it. Some arrangement whereby you may pasture your flocks north of the Wall. We intend to re-establish forts that far as soon as we can. The plan is to move the frontier north if we can hold it there…’

  ‘Then my peoples’ lands will come back into the empire?’ said Drustica. ‘That is good.’

  ‘What about Corvus?’ Flaminius asked. The governor had pardoned Metellus for his involvement in the conspiracy, since he had been instrumental in defeating it, but the fate of the other plotters had not yet been made public.

  Platorius Nepos gave a satisfied smile. ‘He will be exhibited in the amphitheatre,’ he said. ‘Then he will be executed. I have something special planned for him. I think Caledonian bears would make for a fitting end.’

  Flaminius grunted. Finding himself fleeing a lion in Hadrian’s own personal amphitheatre had jaundiced his view of such performances.

  ‘And Marcius Magnus?’ he added.

  ‘I hope you have something even worse prepared for him,’ said Drustica. Junius Italicus nodded his agreement.

  ‘Rest assured, they shall both be despatched in suitably spectacular fashion,’ Platorius Nepos told them. ‘Marcius Magnus will be crucified on the Londinium road. We need to make an example of him to any potential rebels of the future. The rule of Rome will not be overthrown. Her justice cannot be flouted.’ He hammered at the desk with his fist. ‘Peace, yes, but peace through strength. That is the new policy. We’re no longer searching after glory—we have all the glory we need. Now we need to hold onto it all. Barbarians and rebels will not be tolerated. Those druids shall be extirpated.’

  ‘What of the cult of Mithras?’ Flaminius rubbed unconsciously at the raven brand in his forehead. Junius Italicus glanced over at him, unhappy. The governor looked away.

  ‘We don’t need foreign cults,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t say this in front of his agents, but the emperor’s interest in eastern religions has encouraged others to take up with some very strange beliefs. I see nothing wrong with the gods of Rome. We need no strange foreign deities or absurd cults. We should preserve our time-hallowed traditions.’

  ‘The old ways,’ said Drustica laconically.

  ‘Sir, I must protest,’ Junius Italicus began.

  ‘Centurion!’ Platorius Nepos barked. ‘I am a provincial governor, and you are a centurion, and you will remember that.’ He scowled. ‘I want you all out of my province at once.’

  ‘I live here.’ Drustica was outraged. ‘I am a Roman citizen. The people of my tribe need me.’

  Platorius Nepos pinched his nose with thumb and forefinger. Without looking at her, he waved a hand. ‘Very well—return to your people. Your intelligence activities must cease, however. As for you, tribune...’ He looked up and gave Flaminius a hard stare. ‘And your insubordinate comrade…’ He gave Junius Italicus an even harder stare. ‘You both leave on the morning tide. I don’t want you in my province a moment longer.’

  A guard marched in. ‘Sir, you have a messenger.’

  ‘Show him in. Get out, all three of you! Ah, you have a message for me?’

  The messenger was an optio of the Second Legion. He had th
e raven brand of Mithras between his brows.

  ‘Sir, your prisoners have escaped,’ the optio reported.

  ‘What?’ Platorius Nepos shouted as the three agents left the room. ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘A door was left unlocked, sir. Both prisoners were at liberty by the time the duty guard came round again. They have not been seen since.’

  ‘Call out the guard!’ the governor was bellowing as Flaminius and his two friends walked away down the corridor. ‘I want them found…!’

  ‘Corvus lives,’ Drustica commented. ‘I wonder how he escaped.’

  ‘The messenger was a Mithraist,’ said Flaminius. ‘No doubt the duty guard was too. Corvus still wields some influence, even if his bagaudae have been crushed.’

  Junius Italicus shook his head as they walked down to the wharves. It was raining again.

  ‘The cult’s not like that, sir,’ he said. ‘Cultists swear loyalty; to Mithras, to each other, but most of all to the emperor. It’s not a conspiracy against society.’ He shook his head. ‘Corvus did something very warped to the local temples. If I get my hands on him…’

  Flaminius was looking for a ship that seemed likely to take on passengers. The governor wanted to see the back of them and the feeling was mutual as far as he was concerned.

  ‘I think he’s long gone. Whether he’s gone back into the hills or if he’d heading for Gaul, who knows. I don’t doubt we’ll hear from him again, sooner or later.’ Flaminius looked at Drustica, then spoke to Junius Italicus. ‘Go and see if you can find us a ship, centurion,’ he said.

  ‘Sir.’ Junius Italicus marched off, leaving Flaminius and Drustica alone in the rain.

  ‘You’re going back to your own people?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘I have no choice. They need me. Most of them can’t understand this modern Roman world. I need to stand between them and Roman citizens who would walk roughshod over their rights.’ Her eyes softened. ‘Stay with me, Gaius.’