Betrayal: The Centurions I

by Riches, Anthony

  ‘Obviously. Although what such a desire to keep us from seeing a brother officer receive Roman justice says about the relationship between Rome and the Batavi, I hesitate to think.’

  Taking their places in the principia’s main hall, they stood quietly at the back of the room and spoke only to one another, ignoring the collected military officers and well-connected civilians who made up the bulk of the audience before whom the drama of their countryman’s trial and that of another half-dozen men would shortly play out. Hramn looked around the room counting crests, stopping when he got to thirty, nodding at Marius when he saw the man in the midst of the Fifth legion’s officers, standing next to a legatus with a scarred face.

  ‘This must be every centurion in what’s left of both legions. They’re not taking any chances, are they?’

  Draco shrugged.

  ‘Vitellius is their emperor. They made him, and they’re going to make very sure that no tribesman with a grudge gets within a mile of the man. Or any soldier who fancies collecting on the price that Otho has put on his—’

  ‘Stand for the Emperor!’

  The newest ruler of the civilised world swept into the room behind the formal escort of his lictors, clearly legion veterans who had been dressed for the occasion as a tacit reflection of his power base, while the legatus who had called them to attention continued speaking.

  ‘Imperator Aulus Vitellius Germanicus, the one true ruler of the empire!’

  ‘Germanicus?’

  Draco nodded sagely at Hramn’s whispered question.

  ‘He’s a cautious man, that much is clear. He won’t take the title of Caesar until he feels secure enough to do so, for fear of upsetting the Senate, I expect. We’ll just have to hope that his caution and calculation extends to our brother Kivilaz’s case.’

  The new emperor raised both hands to salute his men, clearly feeling himself to be among friends. A tall man dressed in a brilliantly white toga, florid and heavily built from a lifetime of indulgence, he limped heavily. Draco leaned closer to Hramn, whispering in his ear.

  ‘The limp, they say, is the result of a chariot accident. Apparently Caligula took it into his head to—’

  ‘My friends, please take your seats and allow me to lower these poor tired bones into a chair myself.’

  ‘A nice touch.’ Draco pursed his lips in amusement as a centurion carried forward a solidly constructed camp stool of the type used in the field for the emperor to perch upon. ‘See, I am nothing more than a humble soldier forced to accept this position by the weight of opinion.’ He grinned at Hramn’s grimace of disgust. ‘Trust me, as the leader of Claudius’s Bodyguard I saw many worse pieces of posturing. As I’m sure you did under Nero.’

  A uniformed clerk had risen at the signal from his legatus, now that Vitellius had taken his seat, and was introducing the day’s business.

  ‘The emperor will now hear the cases against the following accused and will rule as to their fate!’

  He nodded to a centurion.

  ‘Bring out the prisoners as they are named!’

  Consulting the list, he called out the first name.

  ‘Pompeius Propinquus!’

  A centurion opened the door behind him, beckoning to the first of the men who could be seen waiting in the shadows within. The prisoner walked blinking into the room’s light, looking about himself with an expression that eloquently bespoke his terror at the circumstances in which he found himself. The centurion, having closed the door behind him, tapped him forcefully on the thigh with the vine stick in his right hand, barking an order at the cowed prisoner.

  ‘Bow to your emperor!’

  Waiting until the formality was complete, and had been received by Vitellius with nothing more welcoming than a cold stare, the clerk spoke again.

  ‘Pompeius Propinquus, you stand accused that on the second day of Januarius, in your position as the imperial agent in the province of Gallia Belgica, you sent a messenger to Rome, to the usurper Galba, informing him that the legions of Germania were revolting and refusing to accept the authority of his illegal regime. Your communication was in direct contradiction of the will and direction of every legionary on the Rhenus frontier, a far larger and more legitimate constituency than the single Spanish legion with which the usurper seized Rome, committing the heinous crime of using his cavalry to scatter and murder innocent petitioners of legio First Classica from the gates of the city, blameless men recruited by his predecessor Nero from the fleet who were simply seeking reassurance as to their future enjoyment of imperial service. What do you have to say in your own defence?’

  Propinquus looked around him, spreading his arms imploringly.

  ‘I—’

  ‘The accused will address the emperor!’

  Swallowing, the accused man looked to Vitellius with a beseeching expression.

  ‘Caesar, I only did what any good servant of the empire would have done in my place! My duty was to the man acclaimed emperor by the senate, although—’

  Vitellius spoke over him, ignoring his entreaty.

  ‘You fail to deny your crime, and are convicted of loyalty to the previous emperor, the usurper Galba, out of your own mouth.’ He looked at the cringing Propinquus with hard eyes. ‘You will be executed, today, as full and final punishment for your crime. Next.’

  Leading the dumbstruck prisoner to another door, the centurion pushed him through it with a single word before turning away to fetch the next man to be tried.

  ‘Execution!’

  Hramn stared in amazement at the scene.

  ‘An imperial agent, condemned to death just like that? Gods below.’

  ‘Keep your voice down, nod and look approving.’ Draco’s reproach was so quiet as to be barely audible. ‘If these men get so much as a hint that we don’t agree with them we’ll be the next to feel the noose closing our windpipes. That’s better, and look a little more triumphant. I promised myself not to get killed unnecessarily today, and I’m keen to deliver on the oath.’

  ‘I thought if you couldn’t take a j—’

  ‘Bring out Julius Burdo!’

  The next prisoner to be led out was dressed in a clean tunic, and after the obligatory bow to Vitellius his head was held high in the face of his accusers.

  ‘Prefect Julius Burdo, you are accused that on the third day of Januarius, in your position as commander of the fleet upon the river Rhenus, you refused to swear loyalty to the one true emperor, Aulus Vitellius Germanicus, stating that you were loyal to the man appointed to the role by the people and the senate of Rome. Further, you are accused of having plotted against the emperor’s predecessor as legatus augusti of Germania Inferior, Gaius Fonteius Capito, and with having conspired in his murder by the self-confessed assassin, the naval centurion Crispinus whose execution the emperor has already ordered.’

  Draco breathed a comment into Hramn’s ear.

  ‘An execution that prevents any evidence of Burdo’s involvement emerging. I wonder if the prefect has any connection to the new emperor’s circle of intimate friends?’

  Burdo turned to Vitellius and bowed deeply.

  ‘Caesar, I can only entreat your mercy for a man who sadly misunderstood the circumstances of your timely and reluctant assumption of imperial authority, which I now know was motivated by no other urge than to save Rome from the depredations of a miserly, divisive man whose authority was based solely on the support of a single legion. A man who had spent most of the last decade sheltering from the vicissitudes of Nero’s cruelty in Spain, while better men stayed in Rome and risked their lives for love of the city and the empire, which is the prime reason why the men of the seven German legions decided to declare their loyalty to you. Declarations of loyalty to which I will hopefully be allowed to add my own and that of the sailors I command. Further to that, I strenuously deny any connection with the actions of this man Crispinus who, whilst a part of my command, was not personally known to me.’

  The emperor stared at him for long enoug
h that the assembled officers leaned forward involuntarily, but at length he nodded his understanding.

  ‘Prefect Burdo, the position you took was very clearly based on your loyalty not to the former emperor Galba, but rather to the empire, and misinformed to a degree that I know has left you personally embarrassed. You have offered to take your own life if required to do so, and while I laud your courage in making this offer, I cannot allow you to bring upon yourself the same honour enjoyed by Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo when the matter involved is so ambiguous. I could only be criticised by my colleagues in the senate for such a course of action, and with good reason …’

  He paused as though further considering his verdict, and Draco leaned close to his friend.

  ‘Or to put it another way, while the soldiers want him dead for the alleged crime of plotting against the previous legatus augusti, Vitellius knows that executing him will turn the fleet against him, which is why this tidy little accommodation has been reached.’

  ‘And so I find you guilty of the charge, but with mitigating circumstances that require me to stay my hand from the ultimate sanction available to me. You will be imprisoned, treated fairly and given the leisure of time to regret your mistake, while the fleet you have previously commanded will now answer to your deputy, who I trust will ensure that no further acts of disloyalty occur.’

  Burdo bowed again, and was led away by the obviously disapproving centurion.

  Draco nudged his companion.

  ‘The legion would have cut his throat. It seems the emperor has put a saddle on a hungry lion.’

  ‘Bring out Julius Civilis!’

  The two men exchanged glances, watching impassively under the scrutiny of the men closest to them as their fellow tribesman was led into the room. Dressed in a tunic that was almost as clean as that sported by Burdo, he had clearly been allowed the opportunity to prepare himself for the trial, his hair neatly cut and combed, his boots clean, and his expression almost serene. Draco nodded approvingly.

  ‘He might just get away with this, if he can be bothered to make the effort not to piss Vitellius off.’

  ‘Gaius Julius Civilis, known among the Batavian tribe as Kivilaz, you are accused that you have plotted against the empire. It is charged that you encouraged the rebel Gaius Julius Vindex in his revolt last spring, stating that you could deliver your tribe and its auxiliary cohorts to his support of the usurper Galba, and that you have additionally sought to inspire your countrymen to acts of disobedience against the rightful rule of Rome over your homeland. What do you have to say in your own defence?’

  Looking around the room, Kivilaz shook his head in evident rejection of the charges laid before him. Draco shook his head in horror.

  ‘Oh gods, he’s going to get himself killed.’

  Then, before Vitellius had any chance to react to his previous silent gesture of refusal to accept the clerk’s assertion, Kivilaz made a deep and fulsome bow.

  ‘Caesar, may I take this opportunity to offer you my congratulations on your well-deserved elevation to the throne? I would have made my declaration of loyalty earlier, and in person, but the officers of the Fifth and Fifteenth Legions I see gathered to witness your judgement have denied me that opportunity by means of my imprisonment incommunicado.’

  Vitellius acknowledged the statement with a slight inclination of his head.

  ‘I thank you for your informal declaration of loyalty, Civilis. You may yet have the chance to repeat it more formally, if I judge your imprisonment to have been without good cause. Now proceed with your defence.’

  Kivilaz bowed again, turning to look around the room at his accusers.

  ‘With the greatest of respect to the gathered officers of the two illustrious legions I see gathered here …’

  ‘Good start. At least he’s trying.’

  ‘… I find myself outraged at the treatment that I have received at the hands of men I once considered to be my brothers-in-blood!’

  ‘Ah …’

  Vitellius raised a hand to forestall half a dozen centurions who had risen from their chairs with furious expressions.

  ‘Much as I appreciate your prompt attempts to interject, gentlemen, the empire has a fine tradition of allowing an accused man to conduct his defence and at the very least receive a dignified hearing until he has concluded his words. Let us therefore allow Julius Civilis to state his case before we decide upon his guilt?’

  Kivilaz bowed to the emperor once more.

  ‘Thank you, Caesar. As I was about to add to my previous statement, perhaps “outraged” is the wrong choice of word. “Saddened” might have been more appropriate. Perhaps “mortified” would have better expressed my horror. “Bereft” would have served no worse. For I am all of these things in the face of having been imprisoned on charges that I know to be patently false, and which make light of my life of service to the empire.’

  ‘You do rather seem to attract accusations, do you not, Civilis?’

  Kivilaz nodded in respectful agreement.

  ‘It seems I do, Caesar, although I find myself baffled as to how a man of my often demonstrated loyalty can be so traduced. I swam the river Medui to take my spear to the Britons’ chariot horses, making it possible for the Second Augustan Legion to force the crossing by their outstanding bravery, untroubled by the enemy’s best swordsmen. And I did this for Rome. I swam the ocean in the far west of that country to Mona, to take my iron to the tribal priests who encouraged their followers to resist our advance. For Rome. And I stood with the Fourteenth Gemina against ten times our number of the Iceni tribe, on the day of our glorious triumph over that murderous revolt, and gladly gave an eye to play a small part in that great victory. For Rome. In every battle the Fourteenth Legion fought, the Batavi were at their sides, myself no less than any other man, and I have the scars to prove it, not one of them in my back. All of them incurred in the service of Rome, and worn with pride as badges of my loyalty at any price to myself. Whereas my accusers have fought nothing more troublesome than a head cold since their brief trampling of the Frisii people thirty years ago.’

  A growing murmur of outrage started to rise, but the emperor once more raised his hand.

  ‘Silence! Nothing the accused has said so far has been anything other than factual! There is no hard evidence of the crime of which he has been accused, and his war record is indeed exemplary! If I find him guilty you can take out your frustrations on him for pointing out that neither of this fortress’s legions have seen battle in thirty years to whatever degree you think justified and honourable – a flogging, perhaps, before an appropriately swift death – but until then I will have silence!’

  An uneasy quiet descended on the room, and Vitellius raised a hand to indicate that Kivilaz should continue.

  ‘Thank you, Caesar. I will keep the rest of my defence brief. There is indeed no evidence that I lack loyalty to the empire, and to the person of the emperor. No proof of these charges has ever been offered to me, only the accusations of men who are yet to make them to my face. I have already been sent to Rome for judgement in the matter of the Vindex revolt, while my brother was brutally sentenced to death by your predecessor as the legatus augusti of Lower Germania, Gaius Fonteius Capito, a man whose violent death last year is attributed by some to certain local senior military officers as an opportunist reaction to the apparent crime of refusing to join with Vindex and Galba against Nero …’

  He paused to allow Vitellius to consider the implications of his words.

  ‘As to my imprisonment in Rome, I was at length declared not guilty by the previous emperor, may the gods rest his spirit, for the lack of any proof that my visit to Senator Vindex was anything other than purely motivated, and solely intended to encourage him to make peace with Rome. As an innocent man whose brother has been murdered on the same hasty charges that saw me within a whisker of sharing his fate, to find myself accused once more is almost too much to bear. Only my continued faith in the scrupulous rule of Roman law in your own
impartial hands gives me hope.’

  He bowed to the emperor one last time, standing in silence to receive Vitellius’s justice. The emperor stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

  ‘It is true, Julius Civilis, that no man has produced any evidence of outright treason against you with any more strength than rumour and hearsay. And you have made it clear in private testimony that your meeting with Vindex was for the sole purpose of persuading him not to shed unnecessary blood by giving battle to the legions of Germania. It is also true that whatever evidence Gaius Fonteius Capito was in possession of with regard to your brother’s apparent treason, he took it to his untimely grave, and so we shall never know whether that execution was merited. And finally it is true that you were released from captivity by the usurper Galba for lack of evidence, although in the eyes of some men here it seems as if he might well have released you as your reward for having abetted his supporter Vindex?’

  He paused, allowed the muttered agreement with his last point to die down.

  ‘I have never been inclined to have a good man executed on the grounds of gossip, no matter what the emotions behind such accusations might be. And you, Gaius Julius Civilis, are undoubtedly a true servant to the empire. You have fought for Rome all of your adult life, and provided us with an example of courage and determination to achieve victory over the empire’s enemies that I would be proud to own. Therefore my judgement is this: you will be freed to return to your people, on the conditions that you resolve to live a quiet life, devoting yourself to the command of your cohort and encouraging continued loyal service to the empire by the men who serve in your cohorts. Do you accept these conditions?’

  Germania Inferior, January AD 69

  ‘You could have brought a dozen of my guardsmen with you, Hramn, if you’re as nervous about getting back to Batavodurum as you seem to be? Or provided me with something a little more effective than this apple peeler?’

  The decurion looked around him at the winter landscape to either side of the road’s cobbled, arrow-straight line. The main marching route from the legion camp north to the Batavi island ran through farm land for the most part, but the hill they were slowly climbing was studded with boulders too large for economical removal, and had been left as straggling woodland, stripped bare of foliage by the season’s cold. The prince had strapped on the belt that Hramn had carried with him from Batavodurum the moment that he had been freed, relishing the feel of a dagger on his right hip, but Hramn had agreed with Draco that they would neither provide him with a sword, nor even wear one themselves, on the grounds that they would be far less provocative to the men who had imprisoned their compatriot if they weren’t obviously equipped to fight.