by Miller, Ian
"Romans love betting," Gaius said.
"Roman men like betting," Vipsania corrected.
"But you think you're as good or better than a man," Gaius found himself saying. Once in, there was no going back. "You're bound to think you're cleverer than me."
"Perhaps I am."
"Then you'll take the bet to prove it."
She looked at him cautiously. "So what is this bet?"
"I take a piece of steel," Gaius said, "a piece of rock four times as heavy, and probably about ten times as big, and a piece of lead about the same size as the steel, but twice as heavy, and I drop them off the bridge at the same time. I bet you can't tell me what order they'll hit the water."
"This is important?" Vipsania asked with a frown.
"It is if you want to win bets."
"Well, Vipsania?" her father asked. "Seems a good bet. He can't cheat, and you're always moaning to me about the cruelty of Little Boots' games."
"And what do you think about gladiators?" Vipsania stared at Gaius.
"Totally uncivilised," Gaius shrugged, "although to be fair, I've never been to see any."
"You've never been to any?" she asked in surprise, touched with disbelief.
"I told you his family were . . . shall we say . . . at best unusual," her father smiled.
"Anyway," Gaius turned the conversation back to his challenge, "you wish to offer a guess?"
"Everyone knows the answer to that," she said with a touch of disbelief that anyone could even contemplate considering this a problem. "The order is the order of weight, and provided they are weighed properly first that's obvious."
"How much do you wish to bet?" Gaius smiled.
"What do you mean?" she frowned.
"I bet you're wrong," Gaius replied evenly. "So, if you're right, what do you want, or, put it another way, if I'm right, what do I get."
"You're serious?" she looked at him. "You must be mad."
"You want?" he challenged.
"OK, if you wish to go ahead with this stupidity," she frowned, "you clean out our host's pigsties, and I mean you, personally."
"Now there's a challenge," her father grinned. "I ought to warn you, young Claudius, that verges on a Herculean task."
"Accepted," Gaius shrugged, "provided you accept a task of similar unpleasantness if you lose."
"So you think the lead will hit first?" Vipsania frowned.
"No. I think provided they are all released at the same time, they will hit more or less together."
"That's silly!"
"Then accept the bet!" he challenged, and turned to take a goblet of wine from a tray that was being carried around.
"You've got an open-ended . . ."
"No! Your father is a witness. No harmful tasks, just unpleasant."
She looked at him more thoughtfully, then said, "I'm curious. Just what horrible task have you got in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I haven't got anything in mind, and I probably never will." He paused, then added, "I can't see how I win by making you miserable."
Her look was almost respectful as she said, "You know the answer, don't you?"
"You don't think I really want to clean out your pigsties, do you?"
"You're a philosopher," she said, "like those ancient Greeks."
"Ssshhhh!" he said, turning in mock furtiveness. "Can't let Timothy hear that!"
"Who's Timothy?"
"A Greek who was with me at the bridge, and who's trying to turn me into one of those philosophers," he laughed. "So now my secret's out, why are you out in the frontiers?"
"It's a long story," she smiled, "and rather boring for a soldier."
"Maybe not for a philosopher," he countered, as he indicated to a servant that Vipsania might need more wine. "There's no knowing what a philosopher could be interested in."
So she told him about her father's need to be out of Rome, away from Little Boots. Pannonian wine seemed to be as good a reason as any. As to why she was there, frankly it was more important for her to be away from Little Boots, who had apparently decided it was his solemn duty to deflower virgins.
"It can't be that bad," Gaius said, although not totally with conviction.
"It is," she replied. "In fact, Little Boots has ordered my father back to Rome, and believe me, Little Boots has no interest at all in Pannonian wine." She shuddered.
"Then you stay here while your father goes back," Gaius shrugged.
"You think that's safer?" she queried. "It's the frontier, and . . ."
"If you can avoid silly rides in the country, nobody will touch you." He paused, then added, "I'll put the word around that you're under my protection. Everyone knows that as Legatus I can most certainly provide protection and impose retribution."
"I'll see what father has to say," she replied.
They discussed the trivia of Roman society for a few minutes, until an older man with a stern expression stepped up.
"Claudius! You would rather chatter with a young woman than speak to me?"
"He saved my life, Governor!" Vipsania interrupted before Gaius could reply. "I felt I had to thank him, and . . ."
"I was dazzled by her beauty," Gaius interrupted, "then further dazzled by her wit and intelligence, but . . ."
"That's all right, young Claudius," the Governor laughed, and the stern expression melted away. "Of course you prefer to be with a young woman. Just make sure you behave!" and he gave a wink to Vipsania. The he turned back to Gaius and said, "I understand you have an expedition in mind across the river?"
"Yes sir."
"Tell me what you're thinking?"
So Gaius explained where his planning had reached so far.
"You think an expedition at this time of the year's wise?"
"I think it would send the wrong message if I don't."
"It would also send the wrong message if you fail!" Plautius warned. "I don't want to hear of a disaster."
"I can't guarantee to succeed," Gaius said simply, "but unless that raid is punished, there'll be many more. Also, the senate has a standing order . . ."
"I know the standing orders," Plautius frowned. "You wish to go yourself rather than send a Tribune?"
"It's my idea, so it's my responsibility."
"I see." Plautius was clearly surprised. "Then take the first and third cohorts, and bring them back!"
"Thank you, Governor."
"It's you I've got to thank," Plautius shrugged. "Saving the life of young Vipsania saved me a hell of a lot of explaining to the Princeps. I doubt you have any idea of the paper work that would be involved." He paused, and added, "I'll let Caesar know that you've saved the life of a Roman citizen of senatorial class and a personal acquaintance of his," Plautius laughed. Then he became more serious, and added, "Don't knock it! You'll earn another decoration, and these days, the more decorations, the safer you are. Caesar genuinely respects military heroes."
Or fears them, Gaius thought to himself, and then dismissed the thought. That was treasonable. If Rome had a bad leader, Romans had to live with that. The alternative, the military taking action to select the ruler, would lead to chaos and the fall of Rome.
"Now, young Claudius, some further instructions. What do you know of the political scene east of the Danube?"
"Not much," Gaius had to admit.
"To the north of Pannonia there's a tribe called the Quadi, under a king called Vannius. Now, by and large Vannius is on reasonably friendly terms with Rome, but much of his cavalry comes from the Iazyges. Now, word of what you do will get up there, and if you make a right proper mess of things, the northern border could also erupt."
"I'll try not to make a mess, Governor."
"There are various messes. Fail to impose any authority and you encourage further raids. On the other hand, if you engage in massive unnecessary pillage or killing, you generate anger, and a desire for revenge. Yes, a punitive mission is required, but make sure it is appropriate."
"Of course, Governor."
&nb
sp; "Oh, and one more thing, young Claudius. You realize winter's coming?"
"That's why I want to get started," Gaius replied. "If I don't do it soon, it'll be very difficult to do it at all."
"That's true," Plautius said, "but that's not what I meant. The standing orders are that the Legion winters at its base at Burnum. This place here is just a camp, and . . ."
"The men deserve better than to be out here for no better reason than the Legatus forgot there's somewhere better. I'll arrange for the Tribunes who aren't involved in the raid to get it organized."
* * *
Two days later two centuries sequentially made an early forced march to the bridge. As Gaius remarked to Vipsania, soldiers required exercise, and exercises might as well be carried out in such a way as to provide a young lady with protection. While there, he arranged the weights on a flat board and offered Vipsania the chance to drop them by tipping the board.
"That's remarkable," Vipsania said, finally.
"And you thought the answer was obvious," Gaius chided.
"It's not very important, though," she shrugged. "Not knowing that's made no difference to my life so far."
"It's got you back out on this bridge," Gaius pointed out. "I would have hoped that otherwise you would have stayed safely back in Lussonium."
"I know. You think I was silly going out here . . ."
"In fact I can think of something even more important," Gaius interrupted. "If those weights hadn't fallen equally, nothing remarkable would have happened on the bridge, and instead of you chiding me for ignoring you, you might well have ignored me, in which case you'd be heading back to Rome."
Vipsania shuddered a little, and added, "To Little Boots."
"It wouldn't be that bad," Gaius shrugged. "You're from a very well-connected family."
"What do you mean?" she frowned.
"I assume from the Valerius Messala that you might be related to the Valerius Barbatus Messalinus?"
"A distant relation. Everyone's forgotten that now."
"Well, his daughter's married to Claudius. That must mean something."
"I don't know anything about Valeria Messalina, and forgive me for saying this but I don't think her being married to Claudius will do me any good. Nobody takes any notice of Claudius."
"He was a Consul," Gaius pointed out.
"Maybe, but I don't think Little Boots takes any notice of him at all."
"I think he takes quite a bit of notice, actually," Gaius said. "Little Boots seems to be perpetually afraid of Senators plotting to kill him. I'm fairly confident he doesn't fear Claudius, so he will listen to him."
"Perhaps, but that wouldn't save me."
"You think he fears your father's plotting?"
"Little Boots is lashing out unpredictably at anyone of Senatorial class."
"I doubt it, but if you're worried, stay here!" Gaius said. "I promise you'll be safe."
"I'd like to," she said, "but my father has to agree."
"I think he'll agree," Gaius offered, "otherwise you could make his life hell!"
* * *
Her father approved of her staying behind under Gaius' protection. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to thrust Vipsania onto Gaius. A few days later, Vipsania found a way to see the ceremony of the formal transfer of authority for the Legion, and some days later she presented Gaius with a drawing of him in full uniform.
"That's remarkable!" he said. "Thank you so very much!" Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed her. He then pulled back, his face slightly red, as he said, "I'm sorry! I promised your father . . ."
"Forget that!" she said, and leaned wrapped her arms around him.
Chapter 6
Four days later, Gaius led the first cohort from the legionary headquarters towards a collection of rafts and what seemed from a distance to be rather small boats. Close up, they seemed to be very small boats. They were, however, all that were available right now, although a safer boat could be provided for the Legatus . . . Gaius quickly shook his head. He had been assured by the river people that these were quite sound, and there would be no problem in crossing the river. Gaius could see that the soldiers were extremely suspicious and he could not blame them; he was not exactly comfortable either, but there was one thing he knew above all else: having brought the troops this far, they had to cross the river, find the enemy and win. It would be a very poor start to order his men into one sort of boat, then take himself on a safer one.
He handed his horse to one of the river men. The horses were to be transferred by the larger rafts, under the care of these river men whose life involved moving animals up and down the river. He then ordered a number of men into the smallest boat, he joined them, and immediately pushed off. The two Tribunes were to ensure that the remaining men crossed.
It was when they reached the broader current that he realized how strong the current was. However, the soldiers were experienced rowers, and irrespective of their feelings, when given a job to do, the Roman soldier did it. They stared at the water, which seemed to them uncomfortably close to the point of swamping, but Gaius merely grinned at them and pointed out that the fact the boat was a little overloaded was a good reason not to rock it. Eventually, to everyone's relief, they reached the clearing on the far side. A detachment of exploratores and the third cohort of heavy infantry had crossed the previous day and had secured a perimeter. Some men began rowing back, to collect more men, while the remaining men quickly began to fan out, to ensure there were no enemies. Back out on the river were a number of similar boats. Virtually all the troops would cross before any attempt was made to bring the horses or the heavier equipment across.
The crossing took most of the day, and the evening fortifications were constructed only a few hundred meters from the riverbank. Small groups of exploratores were sent out next morning to determine whether there was any opposition. A small squad was also ordered to take possession of a rather large hill that offered a good view over the countryside, and which could also be used to relay messages through mirrors or smoke.
The main body then set out, following a reasonably well-made track through a thick forest. The weather was cool, now, and most of the leaves were gone, so apart from the undergrowth, the view was reasonably open. The troops marched at a good speed, as much to keep warm as through extreme urgency. That evening large fires were lit to keep warm. There was a similar large fire on the hilltop, and according to agreed procedure, signals could be exchanged by shading the fire.
The question was asked, and the answer received: those on the hill could see no other fires.
The next day was colder. The wind was now from the north, the sky leaden grey, and a light sleet was falling. The men marched on, a grim determination now pervading the party. It was cold, unpleasant, but it had to be endured.
Late that afternoon they struck the first village. This had been abandoned recently, and the soldiers were only too pleased to have proper shelter from the now bitterly cold rain. Fortifications were constructed, and the watch set. A few comments were made about those freezing on the hilltop. Gaius had no sympathy for them. If by now they had not constructed both fortifications and a shelter, then they were lazy and deserved what they got.
Next day, the first of the winter snow began to fall. Gaius thought about this and decided to stay put. If he were being watched, let the watchers freeze. When the storm was finally over Gaius waited a day, then the two cohorts marched again. The ground was now slush, and again the men had to endure. However, the track was wide enough for the men to march four abreast, which was comforting, and the fur wrappings around the feet, but inside the boots, at least kept the feet dry.
It was about half way to the next village when one of the scouts reported men ahead. The scout assured Gaius that he had almost certainly not been seen, and the men were somewhat noisily setting up an ambush. Gaius waited for other scouts and established that the ambush was set only on one side of the track, and it comprised about a hundred men. This wa
s more likely to be a "hit and run" raid than an outright ambush.
Gaius ordered a small detachment of men into the forest, to circle behind the ambush. Then, after the appropriate time, the men marched on. The ambush, when it came was not effective. An opponent stood up to signal the attack, but immediately a Roman horn blew. Immediately shields were locked, and the volley of arrows fell harmlessly. Then the wall of shields began to advance.
Once into the forest, the shield wall had to break, but at that very instant when the first tree had to be passed, a second horn blew, there was a considerable noise from deeper in the forest, and for the first time the ambushers realized there were men behind them. Uncertain as to which way to go and half-frozen through their wait, the attack collapsed. Fifteen Iazyges were dead, and about eighty dispirited others had formed a rather sad looking huddle, while some of the wounded were left lying in the snow. Three Romans were slightly wounded.
They marched into the major village, this time occupied by women and children who were promptly escorted to the village hall. The Iazygian men were given tent materials and were corralled outside in the freezing cold to build their tent between two huts, which they could also use, while the soldiers occupied the other dwellings when not on watch. For three days nothing happened, except more snow fell.
The fourth day was clear and crisp, and a pleasant covering of snow lay everywhere. Gaius sent out bands of exploratores with instructions to find tracks, and if they found them, to locate the camps and burn supplies. However, nothing was seen. It appeared as if the men of this village had fled, possibly to get help.
On the eighth day word came that that interpretation was almost certainly correct, and help was coming in the form of a large band of Iazyges advancing towards the village down a small valley. They would arrive approximately at noon. Gaius consulted the map he had had drawn through the efforts of the exploratores, then gave a satisfied nod. Signals from the hilltop confirmed that his rear was safe, and there was nothing between the village and the river. This approaching force was large, and since there were no significant villages in three directions, this should be the only attacking force.