Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7]

by Douglas Jackson

  A bearded giant in fish scale armour and a green tunic grinned down at him from the saddle. ‘Our commander ordered us to take you alive,’ he said in a guttural and heavily accented Latin. ‘But he did not say you should be undamaged.’ To reinforce his words he jabbed his spear point into Valerius’s thigh. Valerius cried out and hacked at the shaft with his sword. The wound did no serious damage, but he could feel the blood running down his leg. Another point jabbed into his buttock and he spun to face his laughing attacker. The Parthians could do this until he was bleeding from a dozen wounds and still keep him alive long enough to suffer the torment Claudius Harpocration planned for him. He forced despair from his mind. As long as he could hold his sword they wouldn’t take him alive. But the resolution lasted only as long as it took for the ash shaft of an enemy spear to smash down on his wrist. Valerius cried out with frustration as the sword fell from his numbed fingers. His tormentors only laughed all the louder and the ring of spears closed in.

  ‘What is happening here?’ The imperious demand came from a tall, mounted figure who appeared at the top of the bank, silhouetted against the sun. Valerius looked up and raised his wooden right hand to shade his eyes. The man cried out in astonishment. ‘Valerius? I thought you were dead.’

  Valerius had to choke back an outburst of hysterical laughter. ‘I will be unless you can convince these snakes to draw in their fangs, Pliny.’

  ‘Release this man,’ Gaius Plinius Secundus snapped. The Parthians looked up in bewilderment at the imposing figure in a legate’s armour and scarlet cloak. More mounted figures appeared beside Pliny, the members of his personal guard. ‘Put up your spears,’ he repeated the command. ‘Or you will not live another heartbeat.’

  The bearded giant rasped out an order and the ring of leaf-bladed points receded. Valerius scrambled through a gap in the iron and clawed his way up the bank to the governor’s side. From here he could see the legionaries continuing their steady march towards Tito’s Asturians, who stood in a disorganized huddle by the road. ‘Pliny,’ he said urgently. ‘You must withdraw your men. These are not your enemy. They are.’ He pointed to the Parthians on the dusty plain below, and beyond them the two cohorts of the Sixth.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Pliny said. ‘Those are Roman soldiers.’

  ‘Melanius persuaded them to march on Tarraco. He was stealing the Emperor’s gold, Pliny. The proof is in the leather sack tied to the saddle of that horse. Melanius is dead and I doubt they’ll fight, but you must believe me …’ His voice failed him for a moment. ‘Mars save us. Serpentius!’ Only now did he notice that a single conflict still continued among the milling Parthians. Two horses wheeled and circled as their riders fought for position. ‘A mount, Pliny. A mount and a sword if you love me as a friend.’

  Pliny responded instantly with an order and one of his escort jumped from the saddle and led his horse to where Valerius stood.

  ‘I will call off the attack.’ The governor handed Valerius his own sword. ‘Go to Serpentius and stop this bloodshed. Cassito?’ he called to the leader of the escort. ‘Take ten men and bring me whoever commands the Sixth, by force if necessary.’

  Valerius galloped down the slope without waiting for the escort, snarling at any Parthians who blocked his way. A strange listlessness had overcome the bearded cavalrymen as they began to understand the significance of the newly arrived troops and they gave way without protest. Others formed a circle around the battle between the commander who had never lost a fight and the astonishingly swift enemy who had already brought him twice to the brink of defeat. A cry of agony pierced the air as Valerius broke through the Parthian ranks and his heart stopped as he saw Serpentius reel away clutching his stomach. Claudius Harpocration wheeled his horse, sword raised for the death blow. But Valerius’s gelding was cavalry-trained and didn’t break stride as he drove it chest to shoulder with the Parthian’s mount. The impact threw Harpocration clear of the saddle and he scrabbled in the dust to avoid his falling horse.

  Valerius dismounted and advanced on his enemy as Harpocration struggled to his feet. A few Parthian spearmen moved to block his way until Cassito and the men of Pliny’s escort galloped up and snarled at them to stay clear. Harpocration was clearly suffering from the effects of the contest. His chest heaved beneath the heavy mail of his protective armour and the left arm of his tunic was soaked with blood where Serpentius had cut him at least once. But his eyes glittered with loathing and blood-rage. He moved confidently to meet Valerius’s approach.

  Any man who wounded Serpentius was a warrior to fear, but Valerius felt the anger growing in him like lava ready to vent. His eyes never leaving his enemy he strode forward with his sword raised and his right side exposed. In battle, Serpentius had always acted as Valerius’s shield, or his strong right hand. Now that flank was an invitation to strike.

  And Harpocration took it.

  The Parthian commander lunged with the speed of a thunderbolt, the point of his sword like a dart aimed at Valerius’s unprotected chest. His victory cry rose in his throat, but it remained unfulfilled, because the air rang as Valerius swatted the blade away with a speed and a power that left Harpocration gaping. Before he could react Valerius hammered his wooden fist at the Parthian’s face. Harpocration ducked his head. It was all that saved him because Valerius had deployed the hidden blade and the point would have taken him in the right eye. Instead it was deflected by the iron dome of the Parthian’s helmet. Harpocration flailed blindly with the sword, forcing Valerius to step back and winning a moment to recover. But Valerius was back within a heartbeat, the sword in his left hand probing relentlessly at Harpocration’s flank and forcing him to parry awkwardly in a move he’d never trained for. Valerius could feel him slow as the strain of the fight with Serpentius continued to take its toll. Claudius Harpocration’s muscles were battle honed, but no man could fight for ever.

  Harpocration cried out as Valerius’s edge added another cut to the one Serpentius had inflicted. Oddly, the shoulder wound seemed to galvanize the Parthian and for a few deadly seconds he hacked at Valerius with renewed strength. For the first time he noticed the blood that streaked Valerius’s legs and filled his sandals. A new confidence welled up inside him as he sensed his opponent weakening. Suddenly Valerius’s thrusts were less certain and Harpocration knew he had one chance to finish this quickly. He launched a whirlwind attack that tested first right, then left and as his opponent reeled, a final double-handed overhead cut that should have split Valerius from skull to chin. Instead, it met thin air.

  Serpentius had taught Valerius that footwork was as important to a swordsman as the blade in his hand. Now Valerius put all the gruelling hours of practice into effect. He spun clear in a pirouette that positioned him for a savage backhand. If it had landed perfectly the blow would have taken the top off Harpocration’s skull as if it was an egg. The Parthian managed to sway out of killing range, but the point of the sword scored a bloody line across his eyes.

  The Parthian reeled away shrieking as he realized he was blinded. He clawed at his face with his left hand, but he still had the presence of mind to retain his sword in the right. He staggered backwards sweeping the blade from side to side in a desperate bid to survive. Valerius disarmed him with an almost casual flick of the sword point and kicked him in the chest so he fell on his back. For a moment he stood over his enemy, breathing hard, staring down at the ruined features of the man who had planned to torture him to death.

  In that moment it occurred to him that a life condemned to eternal darkness was what Harpocration deserved. But that was not Gaius Valerius Verrens’ way. He lifted the sword and plunged the point into Harpocration’s throat with enough force to sever his spine. Blood spurted the length of the blade and the Parthian jerked and flopped like a stranded fish before going still.

  Looking down at the dead man, Valerius felt terribly weary, weary unto death. Then he remembered Serpentius.

  The Spaniard lay on his back a dozen paces away with Tito
kneeling at his side. The younger man had his head bowed as if he was listening. Valerius approached them and Tito looked up, his hatchet face a rictus of anguish and his cheeks wet with tears. Shaking his head, he rose slowly to his feet and walked away.

  Valerius took his place, wincing at the dark stain on the Spaniard’s tunic; he’d never felt such helplessness and despair. He reached to pull the torn cloth aside but Serpentius’s hand came up and his fingers gripped Valerius’s wrist so fiercely the Roman thought they would tear the flesh.

  ‘No point.’ The former gladiator managed to open his eyes. ‘I’ve killed enough people to know when I’m dead. My sword?’

  Valerius reached for the fallen blade and placed it in his friend’s hand. ‘Hold on,’ Valerius whispered. ‘Pliny will send his personal medicus.’ Serpentius closed his eyes and gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. Valerius had always thought of the Spaniard as a big man; now he realized that his size was an illusion created by his strength and his speed and his presence. He bit back the sob that filled his chest and turned it into a cough.

  Serpentius’s eyes opened again and he stared at Valerius’s face as if memorizing it. ‘Cold.’ The word was so indistinct Valerius almost missed it. The Spaniard let out a long sigh and Valerius had a moment of panic-stricken terror, but the grey eyes brightened a little and the gravel voice rallied. ‘You saved me.’ A desperate urgency filled Serpentius’s words. ‘And you freed me. But I was never so free as when I fought by your side.’ His voice faded and he sounded almost puzzled. His final words emerged as one long sigh. ‘I’m going home.’

  Slowly, the iron grip slackened and the lifeless fingers fell away. When Valerius could bear to look the Spaniard’s grey eyes had already dulled. Gaius Valerius Verrens knelt over the body of Serpentius of Avala, a prince of his tribe, a slave, a gladiator and a friend, and wept.

  Historical note

  The Valerius books are works of historical fiction, but I take great pride in ensuring that the historical foundation for the novels is as sound and accurate as I can make it. Most are based on recorded events, such as the Boudiccan rebellion, the Year of the Four Emperors and the Siege of Jerusalem. Saviour of Rome is different. There’s no historical evidence for the large-scale theft of Roman gold mined in northern Spain in AD 72, or a potential rebellion in the province aimed at destabilizing and replacing Vespasian. Yet the conditions existed for just that scenario.

  As the historian Suetonius makes clear, the Emperor Titus Flavius Vespasian faced a financial crisis in the earliest period of his reign, and this despite the vast amount of gold booty taken from the Temple of Jerusalem – the evidence of some of it still visible on the Arch of Titus in Rome. Partly that will have been the result of the depredations of the Year of the Four Emperors – the civil war that raged in the western part of the Empire in AD69 – when tax revenues would have been drastically reduced and farming yields cut. Devastated communities required to be rebuilt; Vespasian’s son Domitian famously handed out money to pay for the rebuilding of Cremona, which had been razed to the ground by his father’s troops under Marcus Antonius Primus. There was also the expensive matter of reconstructing the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill, burned down, by accident or design, when the Emperor’s brother and Flavian loyalists took refuge there from the troops of Aulus Vitellius. Worse, the profligate spending of Emperor Nero, whose death by suicide ignited the civil war, had left the Empire close to bankruptcy. Silver and gold coins minted during the latter years of his rule contained up to fifteen per cent less bullion than their face value suggested. Vespasian needed money to pay his troops and the Praetorian Guard, or he wouldn’t be Emperor for long, for regular handouts of bread to keep the mob happy, and to build the great monuments, like the amphitheatre that people would come to know as the Colosseum, without which his reign would be regarded as irrelevant. He needed the Spanish goldfields producing at full capacity.

  Yet the war, and the Batavian revolt on the Rhine frontier which paralleled it, had left Hispania denuded of troops. A few cohorts of legionaries were scattered across the country to provide security for the mines, the storehouses, and the convoys that carried the gold on the first leg of its journey to the Treasury in Rome. Vespasian had shown he wasn’t impressed by the Rhine legions by disbanding two and refusing to re-establish others that had been wiped out. He couldn’t trust those which had followed Vitellius, and the two generals who had won him the Empire were now deadly rivals with ambitions of their own.

  One person he did trust was Gaius Plinius Secundus, better known to history as the naturalist, historian and all-round polymath, Pliny the Elder. Pliny’s writings show he undoubtedly spent time in Spain, probably during the period Valerius is there, and it’s believed he was governor of Hispania Tarraconensis. He amassed an encyclopedic knowledge of the country’s plant and animal life, its geology, and the tribes and sub-tribes who inhabited its various regions, including Asturia. More importantly for me, he also left behind a wonderfully detailed treatise on Roman gold-mining techniques in Spain, and the terrible conditions the miners endured, which is well worth reading.

  It was more difficult to find the detail that would allow me to paint an accurate picture of Serpentius’s people, but they’ve left enigmatic clues in the wonderful gold work they produced before the Romans came, and the remains of the stone castros – small defended settlements – that litter the hills of Asturia. What is clear is that in the aftermath of the Cantabrian Wars, when Augustus was forced to send no less than eight legions against them, the survivors were driven from their homes and forced to live in Roman-ruled settlements where they could provide labour for the mines that would provide the Empire’s gold.

  The best evidence for what happened next, and the incredible destructive power of ruina montium, is provided by the World Heritage Site at Las Medulas. Great swathes of the mountains have been quite literally torn apart in the search for gold, to leave a stunning, almost Martian vista. The effect is awe-inspiring and if you’re in the area it shouldn’t be missed.

  As Pliny says, an emperor’s favour is not to be disdained, but being an intimate of the Imperial family seems to have brought Valerius nothing but trouble. Yet Vespasian, pragmatic, self-deprecating, efficient and decisive, was exactly what Rome needed after Nero and the upheaval of civil war. He was ably assisted by his son, Titus, and, possibly, by Titus’s brother Domitian, whose reputation I probably do no favours in these books. But every hero needs a nemesis, and I doubt Domitian is finished with Valerius yet.

  Britannia awaits, rekindling long forgotten memories and providing further opportunities for glory with the campaigns of Julius Agricola … but the ghosts of the past are stirring.

  Glossary

  Aedile – a magistrate responsible for the upkeep of public buildings, streets, aqueducts and sewers.

  Ala milliaria – A reinforced auxiliary cavalry wing, normally between 700 and 1,000 strong. In Britain and the west the units would be a mix of cavalry and infantry, in the east a mix of spearmen and archers.

  Ala quingenaria – Auxiliary cavalry wing normally composed of 500 auxiliary horsemen.

  Aquilifer – The standard-bearer who carried the eagle of the legion.

  As – A small copper coin worth approx. a fifth of a sestertius.

  Asturica Augusta – Modern Astorga, provincial capital of the Roman gold-mining region of Hispana Tarraconensis.

  Atriensis – A freed slave who acted as a major-domo with responsibility for running a Roman household.

  Aureus (pl. Aurei) – Valuable gold coin worth twenty-five denarii.

  Auxiliary – Non-citizen soldiers recruited from the provinces as light infantry or for specialist tasks, e.g. cavalry, slingers, archers.

  Batavians – Members of a powerful Germanic tribe which lived in the area of the Rhine delta, now part of the Netherlands. Traditionally provided auxiliary units for the Roman Empire in return for relief from tribute and taxes.

  Beneficiarius –
A legion’s record keeper or scribe.

  Braccae – Woollen trousers of Celtic origin favoured by auxiliary units and sometimes worn by legionaries in cold climates.

  Caligae – Sturdily constructed, reinforced leather sandals worn by Roman soldiers. Normally with iron-studded sole.

  Castro – a small, walled mountain settlement of circular stone buildings in northern Hispania.

  Century – Smallest tactical unit of the legion, numbering eighty men.

  Cohort – Tactical fighting unit of the legion, normally contained six centuries, apart from the elite First cohort, which had five double-strength centuries (800 men).

  Consul – One of two annually elected chief magistrates of Rome, normally appointed by the people and ratified by the Senate.

  Contubernium – Unit of eight soldiers who shared a tent or barracks.

  Cornicen – Legionary signal trumpeter who used an instrument called a cornu.

  Decurion – A junior officer in a century, or a troop commander in a cavalry unit.

  Denarius (pl. Denarii) – A silver coin.

  Domus – The house of a wealthy Roman, e.g. Nero’s Domus Aurea (Golden House).

  Duovir (pl. Duoviri) – One of two men in charge of the Ordo, the council of a hundred leading citizens responsible for the smooth running of a Roman town.

  Duplicarius – Literally ‘double pay man’. A senior legionary with a trade or an NCO.

  Equestrian – Roman knightly class.

  Flammeum – The veil a Roman bride wore at her wedding ceremony.

  Fortuna – The goddess of luck and good fortune.

  Frumentarii – Messengers who carried out secret duties for the Emperor, possibly including spying and assassination.

  Garum – The ubiquitous and pungent Roman condiment made from the fermented blood and intestines of fish, mainly anchovies. Allec was the sediment left after the garum was filtered off. It was sometimes used for medicinal purposes.