by Jack Whyte
His brother stood up and moved closer to the fire, holding his hands out to the heat and speaking down into the heart of the fire.
“It’s no exaggeration. There is not a single safe route for shipping left anywhere in the world. Not one. It’s not general knowledge, of course, because the ports are still full of vessels loading and unloading. Hundreds of ships are getting through safely. But there are hundreds more being taken, and every one of them is owned by merchants like us who can no longer afford the risks. The money-lenders and the bankers have closed their coffers and are concentrating only on collecting bad debts. Even the Seneca family have closed down their maritime operations, and they were our bankers, world-wide.”
I felt the hair on my neck prickle at the mention of the Seneca name and glanced at Caius, but he had other things on his mind.
“So,” Terra continued, “we are out of the marine mercantile business, as are most of our major competitors.” He sat down again and his brother took up his point, almost without pause.
“In other words, my friends, the Empire is out of the trading business, and you know what that means.”
Plautus, who had sat still during all of this, was blinking in perplexity, a worried frown bisecting his forehead. “I don’t know,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Firma looked him straight in the eye. “It means dissolution, my friend — gradual, at first, but definite, progressive disintegration. Break-up. The end.”
Poor Plautus was baffled. “The end of what, in the name of God?”
Firma snorted with disgust. “Of everything! The end of the chain of supply that keeps the Roman Mob fed and clothed. The end of the web of commerce that keeps the Empire from collapsing. The end of the status quo. The end of Rome’s dominion. Shall I go on? Caius, here, has been prophesying it for years, and we have all been laughing at him and calling him an alarmist.”
“But what about the government?” This voice belonged to Quintus Varo. “Can’t they do anything to help you?”
Terra’s raised, sardonic eyebrow was eloquent. “Ah, yes, of course. The government. They have a lot to say about helping us. For one thing, they are graciously allowing us to remain operative — fully operational and fully liable — in spite of the fact that we choose to opt out. The government has ordered us to continue trading, to continue losing all our investments, and threatens us with seizure and confiscation of all our property if we refuse to obey.” Shocked silence greeted this remark.
“About a week before we left to come here,” he continued, “we received advance notice from a trusted friend that a military detachment was on its way to visit us, ‘to help us protect our interests’. We tidied up our affairs as well as we could in a week, collected our collectable assets — again, as many as we could assemble — cleaned out our vaults, signed a voluntary legal transfer of our fleet to the imperial government and left town before the military arrived.” He eyed us all again. “Everything we could not realize and carry with us has been forfeited as penalty for our crime of non-performance. We are outlaws now — proscribed fugitives. Does that answer your question, Quintus?”
“By God’s wounds, this is infernal!” Varo was on his feet, glowering around him, his eye finally settling on Tonius, the only military officer present. “Is this true, Cicero?”
“Don’t breathe fire at Tonius, Varo,” Terra said. “We are not even from his district.”
Tonius got up and went to pick out a new log to throw on the fire before he answered Varo’s question.
“Let’s say it doesn’t surprise me, Quintus. I suppose it had to come to this, or something like it, although I hadn’t seen it before now.” He looked around at all of us. “They feel they have to blame somebody, so they’re blaming the merchants for the breakdown, on the sea, at least. But it’s not only the sea routes that are closed. Land caravans are almost an extinct phenomenon. Time was when we could dispatch a maniple to escort a major caravan and protect it. Now it takes an army. And even then there are no guarantees.”
Gaius Gallus spoke up. “It’s true. It’s affecting everyone. I have three warehouses filled to the roofs with tiles. They’ve been waiting for shipment for almost six months. To Gaul. Straight across the narrows. There are no ships available, or willing, to take them. Tiles! Clay roofing tiles.”
Poor Varo was almost spluttering in his hopeless efforts to comprehend what was being said here. “But… but… what does it all mean? You mean… you mean the government’s impotent? That it’s victimizing innocent merchants, making scapegoats out of them, and there’s nothing anyone can do? What about the army?” He was looking in bewilderment from me to Tonius and back to me. “Why doesn’t the army do something? They’ve done it before. Elect a new Emperor and form a new government! Why not?”
Gaius Gallus shook his head. “It’s no good, Varo. That won’t work. It’s too late. No new government could undo the damage done already. Even the idea that an army can elect an emperor is an admission of the futility of the whole thing.” He pointed a thumb towards Caius. “Ask Britannicus.”
All eyes switched to Caius, who sighed deeply as though suddenly feeling the weight of his age. “What do you want me to tell you, Quintus?” he asked. “That they are wrong? That all is right with the Empire and the world? You want me to change my opinion after all the years you’ve known me?” He shook his head. “No, my friend. They are right. They are right. The signs are all around us, everywhere, world-wide. I had no idea until now that they were so bad, so strong, so final. But I’ve seen it coming — we all have, from time to time, if we will but admit it. Rome has finally starved the whole world into rebellion. And it is happening today.”
“But not here in Britain,” said Plautus.
“No, Plautus. Not here in Britain. But Britain stands alone in that.”
“Britain will always stand alone!” This was Tonius Cicero, and Caius took him up on his comment.
“How so, Tonius?”
“Because Britain is an island — surrounded by water — defensible.”
“Against whom?”
“Against all comers!” There was anger in Cicero’s voice.
“Even Romans?” Caius was gently mocking.
“Even Romans!” Angry still, but now he looked uncomfortable.
“That’s treasonous talk, my friend. It could get you killed.”
Cicero’s face was flushed. “This whole conversation is treasonous, Caius. According to those maggots in Rome and in Londinium, Terra and Firma commit treason by refusing to bankrupt themselves throwing good money after bad. By refusing to destroy themselves to provide an illusion of normality for faceless thieves who live in terror of the Mob, the Mob that wants everything for nothing. Why do you people think the Emperor and his Court live in Constantinople? They decided long ago that they wanted nothing to do with Rome and her sweaty, evil-tempered, vile-smelling citizenry. Think about that!” He glowered at the faces that watched him, as if defying any of us to disagree with him. “According to the maggots, none of us around this fire has any right to life. We exist for their benefit. And at their pleasure. Faugh! It makes me want to spew to think that SPQR, the symbol of the Senate and the People of Rome, was once the greatest symbol of freedom and the rights of free men in history! The people in Rome are a herd of murderous, carnivorous cattle, and the Senate is a eunuch! If it be treason to refuse to sacrifice everything we hold noble to the gluttonous maw of the Roman Mob, then I am a traitor!”
At the end of this outburst there was another period of silence. Tonius had risen to his feet, and now he subsided into his seat, his face flushed, angry and defiant.
“Well said, Tonius.” Caius spoke softly into the silence. “You will find no dissenters from your viewpoint here, I think. But I have to remind you that you are a general of the armies of Britain and bound by holy oath to maintain that status. That opinion of yours places you squarely in conflict of interest.”
“Not so!” Cicero sat forward, the intensity of his feelings obvio
us in every line of him. “Not so, Caius. Not at all. I am a general of Britain, true. Commander of a military district. For how long, God alone knows, since imperial favour is as fickle as it ever was. I may have been replaced since I came here, but, by God Himself, as long as I hold the rank and the privilege, I will direct all of my energies to the care of my responsibilities, which are all things military and civil within my jurisdiction. I will discharge my duties fairly and to the best of my abilities according to the ancient laws of Rome, which are the only laws I believe in. And my duty is to maintain the Pax Romana in my district and in this land. Nowhere else!” He stared around at each of us.
“You all heard Varo speak of the army appointing a new emperor. It would not be the first time, but this time it may be the last. I have heard talk that the army in Spain has done just that. One of their generals. I forget his name. If it’s true, he’ll have to fight for his title, and he’ll be up against many another with ambitions the same as his. That is what makes the Empire’s case so hopeless. It has become a matter of the conquest of the strongest, for the good of himself!” He had everyone’s attention as he went on.
“You have all heard me clearly, I think. This island of ours is still an island of peace. But I know that there are some here in Britain who would like to see an emperor of Rome who lived right here. And, to an extent, I can agree with that. But only to a clearly defined extent. Where any man tries to set himself up as emperor of Rome from Britain, he will find himself in conflict with me. For that is treason. Rome has an emperor — three of the swine, in fact, all appointed and anointed by due process.
“But if, on the other hand, I should hear news of upstart emperors appearing as if by magic from the ranks of the armies in other lands, usurpers who would claw like vultures for the carcass of the world, then, on that day, I would rule in favour of establishing a just government on Roman, Republican lines to govern Britain. But Britain alone! Not the world. A government in Britain, for Britain, with a Senate for the governance of law, according to the Republican standards of our ancestors.”
“Bravo, Antonius Cicero! If such a day comes in our lifetime, you will have my support in your rebellion.” Caius leaned towards him. “But what will you do about the other possibility?”
“What other possibility?”
“The possibility that the emperor might go unchallenged? And that there will come a day when all the armies of all the far-flung outposts are recalled to Rome, on orders of the emperor himself, to defend the Motherland?” Caius continued to speak into the silence he had inspired. “It has to happen, my friends. We have starved the whole world to feed the maw of the Mob that Tonius spoke of. Now the world is full of angry people with no room to live, with no food to eat. And all of them can see that whatever they lack, Rome seems to hold. They want their share now. They see it as their right. Their sons have died for Rome, died by the million, down the centuries. By the million! And those that did not die went home as trained soldiers of Rome. These people know the Roman legions are a myth today. We all know it. We simply will not admit it.”
Varo interrupted. “Caius, Caius! You exaggerate to prove your point, I think. It can’t be all that bad! Listening to you, I can almost hear the screams of savages coming to burn this house! You argue for effect. Admit it.”
“No!” The denial was emphatic. “Not true, Quintus. I am not exaggerating. There are only a few outposts of the Empire where the legions still retain some real strength, and they exist almost by accident. Tonius will agree with me.” Cicero nodded his assent as Caius went on. “This island is one of them, because people like us — like you, like Varrus, like me — are kept away from the seat of power, from Rome and from Constantinople. Men like us are too prickly, Quintus, too unbending for Rome today. We offend their sensibilities just as surely as they offend ours. So we, and others like us, remain in the outposts and maintain our forces. And we, Quintus, and those others like us, are the last hope Rome has.”
Caius turned to Cicero again. “When the crisis comes, Tonius, and it will — when the Roman homeland itself is about to be invaded — our legions will be recalled to the defence.” He paused to let that sink in. “What will you do then?”
“I’ll resign.” It was a deep-throated growl, an unusual sound from his aristocratic throat.
Caius smiled. “No, Tonius, you won’t be allowed to. That would be treason. Direct refusal to obey an imperial command. Instant death.”
Cicero flared again. “Better to die that way than march my men into Hades for a cause I have no faith in, and then watch them slaughtered!” He paused and cleared his throat and spat into the fire. “Anyway,” he went on, “it’s not going to happen. At least not tomorrow, or the day after. I know for a fact that the Supreme Command is getting itself into an uproar. We’re going to be seeing an upgrading of military values and spirit right across the world. For a while, at least. You mark my words: anybody trying to blunt the beak of the Eagle in future is going to be in for some rude surprises.”
“Is that official? What’s going on?” I asked him.
He looked at me and grunted. “Yes, you could say it’s official. Official enough. Recruitment is on the increase all over, and the old standards are supposedly being revived and revised. Valentinian commissioned a study of the military a few years ago. It was done by some fellow called… I forget his name, but I’ve read his book. Pretty good. Nothing new in it, of course. But it praises the way things used to be done — the old ways.”
“Of Military Matters.” Caius’ voice was quiet. “Flavius Vegetius Renatus. I read it and enjoyed it. Is it going to do any good, do you think?”
“Required reading now for all officers. It’s been accepted, if not as a training manual, then at least as the official text on weapons, methods and tactics.”
“Good. Will it mean a return to armed camps?”
“Armed camps?” Tonius laughed scoffingly. “Hardly! You ask for miracles, Caius! Armed camps! We are far too civilized nowadays for that kind of nonsense! Our poor soldiers couldn’t handle it.”
“They handled it in my command.”
“Ah, Caius! But you were a martinet. You were that crazed whoreson Britannicus whose men were all possessed by evil spirits, so that they behaved like machines instead of men! Nowadays our blasted officers are too afraid of mutiny to insist on discipline. Can you believe that? Roman officers afraid of their own men!”
I was inspecting the faces around the circle of firelight. They betrayed a wide range of reactions to what was being said by the two speakers, but every one of them was rapt, totally taken up by the discussion.
Now Caius sighed aloud. “Aye, I believe it, Tonius. I have seen it. So you think this grand new spirit is doomed?”
“Of course it’s doomed. You said yourself, the rot is too far gone. It’ll have an effect for a few years, I suppose. Perhaps ten, maybe even twenty, although I doubt it. But it cannot last. There is nothing to sustain it. All I can hope for is honourable retirement in the meantime.”
He stopped talking and gazed into the embers again. The fire was almost out. I saw Caius look around him at his guests. Without exception, they wore expressions of gloom and despondency.
“My friends,” he said, standing erect and stretching, “it is late and we’re all tired. Tomorrow is a new day. There are games scheduled in the morning for the children. I suggest we leave them to their enjoyment and meet here again before noon.”
We all eyed him curiously, wondering what was coming, and he did not leave us wondering.
“I have thought long and hard about this problem before tonight, as some of you know, and I have a few plans of my own. Tomorrow I will outline them for you. They may tie in with your plans; at least they will give you something to think about over the coming months. For now. let me say that you should not let tonight’s discussions depress you too much. We have many things in our favour, believe me. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. Good night. I’ll see you all in the morning
.”
Gaius Gallus, however, was in no mood for going to bed, and neither was I, I found.
“Hold hard. Caius.” he said. “It’s not too late, unless you are too tired to continue.” He looked around at the others. “What about you people? I for one would like a preview of some of these plans before I try to sleep tonight.”
There was a chorus of assent from everyone, and I saw Plautus sit more erect and cross his arms over his chest, as though settling in for a long spell.
Caius looked all around the group, his eyebrow perched high on his forehead, and smiled slightly. “You all wish me to go on?” He clapped his hands together lightly. “I warn you, you might all be letting yourselves in for a late night.” He looked at Terra and Firma. “Are you two hungry? You’ve been talking since you arrived and no one has even offered you a bite. There is plenty of food around. I could use another cup of ale before I start talking again.”
Gallo, the steward, had been standing listening, and now he nodded to Caius and hurried off to organize more food.
“Everyone, a pause. We’ve been talking for a long time and I think it might be wise, before we go any further, to stop for a while and let things settle in our minds. Please, get up and move around a bit. Have something to eat, or something to drink. Talk among yourselves, or think things through on your own. If you have questions, think about them and get ready to bring them up.”
“I’ve got a question.” The speaker was a man from Glevum, a friend of the family whose name escaped me.
Caius looked at him. “Ask it.”
“Well, I know there’s a latrine out here, somewhere close by, but I can’t remember where and my bladder’s about to burst. Where is it?”
The. gathering broke up amid laughter as Caius answered him.
XXV
I stood up, rubbing my buttocks, and caught Plautus’ eye as he crossed diagonally in front of me, headed for the courtyard of the main house where there was another, smaller latrine. He jerked his head at me, indicating that I should follow, and I fell into step beside him.