The Hadrian Legacy

by Gavin Chappell

  Flaminius brushed the water from his hair. The first barbers he got to, he was going to get these lime-washed locks hacked off, even if it left him balder than a priest of Sarapis. And this woad had better come off soon.

  But the raven brand was indelible.

  ‘I wish I could,’ he said. ‘But I have matters to settle in Rome. Besides, the governor has made it clear I’m not welcome in your land.’

  ‘Rome.’ Water trickled down her face and dripped from her eyes. ‘That’s where she is, isn’t she? The governor’s girl.’

  ‘Medea?’ He thought he’d kept all knowledge of his lover from Drustica. ‘No. Medea’s dead.’ I killed her, he thought but didn’t say.

  ‘Then what is waiting for you in Rome?’ she asked.

  Flaminius looked out across the river. The rain lashed the turbulent waters. There was nothing he could think of that wouldn’t sound pompous. He remembered the days, not so long ago, when he’d been a happy-go-lucky tribune of auxiliary cavalry. Before he joined the Commissary. It would be good to settle down somewhere, be someone, with someone.

  ‘I have to make my report to Probus,’ he said at last. ‘He’ll want to know all that has happened here. I’ll tender my resignation. Then, well—Platorius Nepos won’t be governor forever. I can come back here once he’s gone.’

  ‘Will you do that?’ she asked. ‘Will you promise me that’s what you’ll do?’

  Junius Italicus loomed out of the rain.

  ‘I’ve got us passage on a ship bound for Burdigala,’ he reported. ‘From there we can ride to Narbo, then cross over to Ostia by sea. But we’ve got to be quick, they sail in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Thanks, centurion,’ Flaminius said. He turned back to Drustica to add something. To his surprise, she leaned over and kissed him.

  She looked from him to Junius Italicus, seemed about to say something, then walked away up the wharf steps without looking back.

  The rain washed the taste of her lips from Flaminius’ mouth.

  Epilogue

  Rome, 15 October

  Two months later, Flaminius climbed the winding streets of the Caelian Hill to pass through the grim gateway of the Castra Peregrina. It had been a long journey by land and sea, at a busy time of year.

  But the empire was at peace. The rebellion in Britain was over, while news from the east of the emperor’s truce with the Parthians was on everyone’s lips.

  In his office, Probus listened carefully to Flaminius’ report.

  ‘These mystery cults can be a menace,’ he said, ‘but going by the other reports I have had on Mithraism, it has more potential to benefit us. We must keep an eye on it, though. There are other cults in the empire that pose a genuine threat to the Roman way of life. The druids, however, are a thing of the past. From what you say, it was only Corvus that welded them into a force once more to be reckoned with.’

  Probus looked older, greyer around the temples. Flaminius wondered what had happened in Rome while he had been gallivanting about Gaul and Britain, but he was tactful enough not to ask.

  ‘One way or another, they seem to be settled,’ he said, ‘for now. But Corvus got away. Who knows where he’s gone? He may well be planning another attempt. Why was Corvus never picked up in the first place? High profile man like that with seditious tendencies. Isn’t he just what we’re supposed to sort out? And he suggested that someone else was behind him. A bigger fish?’

  Probus looked irritable. ‘The problem with this empire,’ he said, as if it was only one of several he was responsible for, ‘is it’s just too damn big. Until every man in every province is spying on everyone else and until we have enough clerical slaves in Rome to process their reports effectively, a few will inevitably slip through the net. But that’s where you come in.’

  Flaminius preened himself.

  ‘Despite your tendency for dramatics,’ Probus went on, ‘and for romantic entanglements with exotic barbarian maidens... You made quite a hash of things this time. What possessed you to go undercover? Segovesus was far better placed. He was a Gaul, for a start.’ He gave Flaminius’ hair a stare. The tribune had indeed shaved his head during the southward journey, moustache as well, and his scalp still looked like a recently mowed meadow. ‘I told you I had an agent up there. After your last report, I wrote back to you telling you to desist from this absurd course, but clearly you didn’t get my reply. The next I knew, Junius Italicus was reporting you missing.’

  ‘I didn’t know who I could trust,’ Flaminius confessed. ‘I thought I’d met your agent. Drustica. Going undercover was her suggestion.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Probus. ‘One of your many followers. Yes, I’ve been employing her. She’s ideally placed up there by the Wall, to gather tittle-tattle. But she’s a woman. Not temperamentally suited to be a real spy.’

  ‘Some of the best spies I’ve known were women,’ Flaminius said, and looked away. ‘I want to go back,’ he added.

  ‘Back to Britain?’ said Probus. ‘Oh no. You’ve made yourself distinctly unpopular in those parts, you have. I’ve read the letters of complaint, not to mention hearing Centurion Italicus’ account.’

  Junius Italicus reported in on returning to Rome. Flaminius had spent last night in several Subura bars, waking that morning in the bed of a somewhat elderly whore, from whose importunate demands for remuneration he had escaped out of a second storey window. But it had been a tame affair compared with his adventures that summer.

  ‘Have you now?’ he said in reply to the Chief’s grumbling. ‘When I file my written report, I’ll be making a few complaints myself. Mass decapitations, Roman citizens condemned to be torn apart by wild beasts…’

  ‘You’re only angry because one of those decapitations was almost you,’ Probus said.

  ‘Yes I am angry,’ Flaminius said. ‘And I still want to go back to Britain.’

  ‘To your barbarian mistress?’ Probus asked. ‘Oh no. You’re more use to me elsewhere.’

  Flaminius rose to his feet. ‘I wish to resign.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Probus. ‘Sit down. That’s an order.’

  Flaminius remained standing. ‘Technically, centurion,’ he said, stressing the last word, ‘I outrank you.’

  Probus gazed up at him levelly. ‘Technically, yes. In actuality, you are the apprentice, I am the master. Now sit down and don’t let me hear any more of this nonsense about resigning, you young pup.’

  Flaminius did not sit down. He felt like crying, and he hadn’t done that since his first night in the legions. He’d been very young then. Now, only a few action-packed years later, he was a fully-grown man, and he didn’t intend to let old Probus tell him what to do. ‘You’ll receive my official letter of resignation tomorrow at cockcrow.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Probus told him, ‘I’ll still be in bed. And if I receive any such document, I’ll tear it into tiny pieces and feed them to the cock.’ He pounded the table. ‘You are not resigning, do you hear me, lad?

  ‘You’ve made yourself unwelcome in Britain. A shame. You had some good contacts in those parts, even if you would insist on getting into bed with half of them. But I’m going to find a new field for your undoubted skills.’

  Flaminius sat down and leaned across the table. ‘A new field? Not Britain?’

  Probus looked pained. ‘We may be above the law in the Commissary,’ he said. ‘We may answer only to the emperor. But Platorius Nepos is a senator of some eminence. Cross him, and your career has got problems.’

  Flaminius sat back. ‘I don’t care about my career.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ Probus snapped.

  ‘You keep calling me a fool,’ Flaminius grizzled, ‘and then you tell me that you need my skills!’

  ‘I need your skills,’ Probus reiterated, ‘and I need to nurture them. You’ve got a lot of promise, young feller. Shame you keep making such empire-shaking mistakes.’

  Flaminius’ eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not the one responsible for the annihilation of an entire
legion.’

  Probus sighed irritably, as if Flaminius had reminded him of a minor indiscretion. ‘The Ninth still exists,’ he said. ‘Some cohorts are currently garrisoned in Batavia.’

  ‘Really?’ said Flaminius, intrigued despite himself. ‘I thought the whole legion had been annihilated.’ He scowled. ‘Anyway, most of the cohorts were slaughtered. And you and I know exactly how that came about.’

  Probus waved an airy hand. ‘His Imperial Majesty also knows. He considers it to be regrettable, but still recognises that I am worth keeping on. And that’s exactly how I see you. You made some mistakes in Britain, just as I did. And just as the emperor kept me on regardless, I’m keeping you. But not in Britain.’

  Flaminius sighed. Fighting Probus was like wrestling the Tarpeian Rock. ‘Where, then?’ he said. ‘Gaul? Corvus is still at large. I’ll bet he’s somewhere in Gaul or Germania. Have you sent men to his estates?’

  ‘His estates have been sequestered,’ Probus replied. ‘And Corvus himself has been proscribed.’ Flaminius was reminded of Corvus’ own words: How pompous! And how Roman! ‘But I’m not sending you to Gaul or Britain,’ Probus added. ‘Now that Britain seems to be at peace again, the centre of attention is where it always has been—where the emperor is. The East.’

  ‘The East?’ Flaminius wrinkled his nose. ‘Greece?’

  ‘Further east than that,’ Probus said. ‘His Imperial Majesty is currently in talks with the Parthians. You’ve heard of the Parthian Empire, have you?’

  ‘Of course I have!’ said Flaminius, stung. ‘They’re our main rival in the East. A barbarian empire, steppe nomads ruling the lands that Alexander conquered. Trajan defeated them, didn’t he?’

  ‘Not decisively,’ Probus said. ‘Shortly after Trajan’s death, Hadrian retreated from Mesopotamia, that running sore of a province. Quite rightly, in my opinion. But the whole area is in chaos, and not just because of the machinations of the Parthians themselves. The stiff-necked natives resist Roman rule for the most obscure of reasons, religion being one of them. Some of them are more obdurate than the druids.’

  Flaminius had trouble imagining that, but he let Probus continue.

  ‘I’m having you assigned to the Twenty Second Legion, currently based in Alexandria. They need a new Commissary officer, since the last one has vanished without trace while investigating one of those aforementioned religions. Your first duties will be to learn what has happened to him, if he is alive or dead, and if the latter, to ensure those responsible are brought to justice.’

  Flaminius’ mind was in a whirl. ‘You’re sending me to Egypt?’

  He knew little about that ancient country, but a voice at the back of his mind whispered intimations of dry desert winds, vast, cyclopean architecture, and the long dead sitting in state beneath the sand, plotting a terrible vengeance on the living. The gods of the Egyptians had the bodies of men and the heads of beasts; he’d seen the temples of Isis and Sarapis in Rome. Their cults were wilder and weirder and far older than even the beliefs of the druids.

  ‘But what about Britain?’ he added. ‘What about Drustica?’

  ‘She’ll keep, lad,’ Probus assured him gruffly. ‘If she truly loves you, she’ll wait.’

  The story continues in

  OUR MAN IN ALEXANDRIA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Gavin Chappell has been involved in writing and editing for the last decade. He has written numerous short stories, translations, poetry, novels, and non-fiction.

  Also a qualified teacher of further education, Gavin taught English and Creative Writing for many years. He has been published by various publishers including Penguin, and is a member of the Society of Authors.

  Druidsa group of philosopher priests among the ancient Celts. Practised human sacrifice and encouraged resistance to Rome.

  Gaulthe main Celtic province of the Roman Empire; roughly equivalent to modern France

  CaledoniaBritain north of the Roman province; equivalent to Scotland

  LondiniumLondon

  DevaChester; also the original name for the various rivers in the British Isles called the Dee; means 'Goddess' in Celtic

  EboracumYork

  Mithrasa Persian deity whose cult became popular among Roman legionaries

  KanoviumCaerhun, North Wales

  Carvettia Celtic tribe in what is now Cumbria

  CoriaCorbridge, Northumberland

  OnnumHalton Chesters, Northumberland (Kipling's Hunnum)

  HiberniaIreland

  BaiaeRoman resort on the Bay of Naples

  Praetoriansthe emperor's guards

  LuguvaliumCarlisle

  ViriconiumWroxeter

  Via Agricolathe Stanegate

  City Of The DruidsBraich-y-dinas, North Wales; a large, stone walled hillfort with signs of occupation after the Roman conquest; destroyed in the early twentieth century by quarrying

  SegontiumCaernarvon, North Wales

  MonaAnglesey

  Brigantiaconfederation of Celtic tribes in Northern England

  Cornavii Celtic tribe in Cheshire and Shropshire

  Hibernian Oceanthe Irish Sea

  LugdunumLyons, France

  CarnutesCeltic tribe in central Gaul

  Tamesisthe Thames

  peregrinea non-Roman inhabitant of the empire, a provincial

  VindolandaRoman auxiliary fort near Bardon Mill, Northumberland

  VaraeSt Asaph, North Wales

  GesoriacumBoulogne, France