‘My apologies, sir.’ He saluted. ‘We expected you a week ago, and had a guard of honour waiting for three full days. I’m sure Governor Agricola would have been here himself if he’d known.’
‘No need for apologies, soldier,’ Valerius assured him. ‘Please send a messenger to let him know we have arrived. There’s no need for any fuss. I have an escort of my own. All that will be required is a guide to show us the way.’
While they waited, Valerius pointed out to Lucius the bounty of the Empire that flowed through Londinium to the rest of the province. Clearly the port here had replaced Colonia as the gateway to Britannia, and by some measure. From the deck of the ship they could see amphorae of wine, olive oil and garum recently arrived from Italia and Hispania, stacks of gleaming red pottery from factories in Gaul, and trays of fine glassware from Asia and Syria. A line of slaves carried sacks of African grain from the hold of a ship direct to one of the great storehouses behind the dock. That grain was destined for the quartermaster stores of the island’s four legions, along with the chain and plate armour, swords and spears and saddlery all stockpiled in Londinium before distribution. Bales of furs, traded from the primitive northern tribes, were being loaded into an adjacent merchant vessel. And Valerius knew that freshwater pearls and ingots of tin, silver and gold would be stored nearby ready for transport to Rome. Truly, Londinium had become one of the great crossroads of the world.
Valerius’s request for a quiet reception had been made more in hope than expectation and so it proved. Before long he heard the familiar sound of marching feet and a century of legionaries appeared at the far end of the quay, followed in the distance by a carriage pulled by four white horses and surrounded by a milling crowd of servants. The legionaries came to a crashing halt fifty paces away and moved to one side to allow the carriage and a single toga-clad dignitary to approach.
‘Is this the governor?’ Tabitha asked.
Valerius shook his head. ‘One of his aides, I should think. Agricola won’t move without a cloud of officials and a full cohort.’ Felix shouted an order and ten of Valerius’s escort ran down the gangplank to form a guard of honour. Valerius followed, accompanied by the decurion carrying his polished helmet under his right arm. The official, a young man with a frank, open face, intelligent blue eyes and crimped dark hair, arrived at the escort just as Valerius set foot on shore. They bowed in greeting, the young man deeply, and Valerius with the slightest nod of the head that acknowledged his seniority.
‘The governor sends his regrets that he could not meet you personally,’ the young man said. ‘But he is sure you will understand the burdens of office. Metilius Aprilis, the governor’s aide, at your service, sir. I have a coach waiting and an escort from the governor’s personal bodyguard to accompany you through the city to the palace.’ He eyed the men at the bottom of the gangway. ‘Perhaps your own escort could act as rearguard,’ he said tactfully.
‘I think that would be wise.’ Valerius smiled. He had felt Felix stiffen at the perceived slight. ‘We don’t want your lads frightening those fresh-faced legionaries from the Twentieth, do we, decurion?’ Aprilis’s handsome features took on a certain expression and Valerius had a feeling they might have met before. He turned to the young officer. ‘May I ask you to inform my escort commander of their billeting arrangements and where we can access horses and remounts.’
‘Of course, sir, and I will arrange the transfer of your baggage to the governor’s palace.’
‘Thank you.’ Aprilis waved the carriage forward and Valerius bowed to where Tabitha waited at the top of the gangplank. ‘My lady? Lucius?’
The carriage rattled over the rough cobbles of the port on to a street that hugged the river. A partially built temple complex lay to their right, and, far off, Valerius could see the roof of a massive basilica that vied for scale with anything he’d seen in the Empire. Somewhere in that mass of buildings was the headquarters of the legatus iuridicus, where he would be based, and the staff of lawyers and clerks he would command. Tabitha stared at him and he realized he’d let out an undignified snort at the thought of ‘commanding’ office workers. He smiled an apology. But this was what he was here for. It was time to act his age and remember the days of glory were behind him.
The governor’s palace lay a short distance ahead, surrounded by gardens and perched on a series of terraces overlooking the river. Like most of the city’s public buildings, it was still in the midst of construction, but three of the four wings had been completed and a team of builders worked steadily to complete the façade of the fourth. Armed guards stood at every corner and more formed an avenue through the gardens to the steps where a small delegation was waiting.
The carriage rolled to a halt and Valerius helped his wife and son to the ground. He took Tabitha by the hand and they walked slowly towards the palace. Valerius recognized Gnaeus Julius Agricola immediately. The slim, athletic young officer he remembered had grown stouter and his sparse hair was a steely grey, but the essence of the man remained in the shrewd appraisal and steady grey eyes that promised determination and resolve. Beside him stood a tall, slender woman of similar age who must be his wife.
‘Well met, Gaius Valerius Verrens,’ the governor called before Valerius could present his credentials. A smile accompanied the words, but Valerius thought it contained an element of … not quite suspicion, perhaps, but a certain wariness. ‘No man has ever been more welcome. I congratulate you on your elevation and promise you will more than pay for it in labour.’
‘And you, governor.’ Valerius bowed. ‘I remember our service together with nothing but pleasure.’
Agricola covered up a disbelieving laugh with a cough. ‘May I present my wife Domitia?’ The woman held out a slim hand that flinched only a little when her fingers touched the chill of Valerius’s wooden fist. Tabitha saw her confusion and stepped forward. ‘A gift.’ She handed over a pouch of soft leather and the governor’s wife tugged at the strings, gasping with pleasure when she saw what was inside. ‘A small token of our esteem,’ Tabitha continued, as Domitia withdrew a beautifully fashioned gold bracelet in the shape of a coiled snake. Domitia slipped it over her wrist and held it up to admire it.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘And this must be Lucius.’ She turned her attention to the boy hovering behind his mother’s skirts. Lucius stepped out and bowed from the waist and Valerius noticed a liquid gleam in the corner of Domitia’s eye as she patted his dark hair.
‘Perhaps we should go inside,’ Agricola said gruffly.
‘Yes.’ Domitia straightened with a forced smile. ‘I will show Tabitha and Lucius to their rooms. I insist you stay in our guest quarters for a few days while we put the final touches to your villa. I know these men have much official nonsense to discuss. There will be time for conversation later.’
‘Thank you,’ Tabitha said. ‘I’d also count it a favour if you would show me somewhere I can wash this horrible salt from my hair.’
‘Of course.’ The other woman led her past the two men. ‘Fortunately the bathhouse was one of the first areas to be completed. You wouldn’t believe how …’
Agricola ushered Valerius after them. ‘Come, we have much to discuss before dinner. I’ve invited a few people I think it would be beneficial for you to meet.’
‘I’m very grateful,’ Valerius said.
The governor led the way to a room in the south wing overlooking the broad expanse of the river. A jug of wine and two silver cups had been laid on a table. Agricola filled the cups with a liquid that glowed green and gold. He handed one cup to Valerius and they stood looking at each other for a long time, the only sounds the rasp of saws and tap of hammers from the men working outside.
‘“I remember our service together with nothing but pleasure”?’ Agricola growled. ‘I remember a man with one hand who looked as if he’d come back from the dead.’
‘I seem to have learned the language of diplomacy.’ Valerius took a sip of the wine, savouring the tart frui
t on his tongue. It was very good, as he’d have expected.
‘That’s not all you’ve learned, from what I’ve heard.’
‘Yes?’ Valerius held his gaze. ‘Does that mean you don’t appreciate the Emperor’s choice?’
‘Let us dispense with the language of diplomacy, Valerius.’ Agricola laid his cup aside and counted off the words on the fingers of his right hand. ‘Assassin, spy, conspirator, exile …’
Valerius helped him with the word he seemed reluctant to utter. ‘They called me a traitor once too.’
‘One way or the other, wherever you have served, men have died. Friend or enemy, it seems it is dangerous to know you, Gaius Valerius Verrens.’
It hit Valerius with a shock that Agricola was frightened of him. ‘But we are neither.’ He smiled to lighten the mood. ‘And perhaps it’s better it stays that way.’
‘Very well.’ Agricola’s tone didn’t soften. ‘Let me put it to you directly. If Vespasian wishes to know anything about Julius Agricola and you have been tasked with discovering it, ask now and I will answer with complete candour.’
Valerius would have laughed if the governor’s expression wasn’t so serious. ‘I am not your rival, Julius,’ he assured the other man. ‘It is only six months since the Emperor appointed you to this province. You have his complete confidence, and that of Titus. The reason I am here is that they believe I have the qualities you need in your legal officer. I am here to help you, not to spy on you. You have my word on it.’
Agricola picked up his cup and went to the window, staring out over the grey expanse of the Tamesa. He seemed to stay there for a long time. Valerius watched him, knowing that if he’d failed to convince the governor of his sincerity he’d be as well taking the next ship back to Rome.
‘Good.’ Agricola swung round. A twitch of a smile appeared fleetingly on the thin lips. ‘Then let us deal first with the practicalities.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Valerius, but I had to know.’
The practicalities. Valerius, Tabitha and Lucius would move into a villa just outside the line of the old city walls, newly built and one of the few to have heated floors and walls. It was close to the fort, and for convenience, his escort would be billeted with the auxiliary garrison and source their mounts and remounts through the normal channels. ‘They’re satisfactory? The men? I know commanders can use this kind of thing as an opportunity to get rid of their problems.’
‘Perfectly,’ Valerius assured him. ‘We had a few adventures on the way here that rubbed off any rough edges.’
‘You can tell me about them later.’ Valerius bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘Your headquarters is in the basilica. You must have seen it – the biggest building in the city by far. Petilius Cerialis began it and I think he must have taken his lessons in architecture from Nero because everything’s on a grand scale. On the positive side it means there’s plenty of room for the clerks and all the province’s administrative documents.’
‘I doubt they’d have had any trouble with the archives,’ Valerius said grimly.
‘You’re right.’ Agricola met his eye. ‘Everything was turned to ash in Boudicca’s balefire. There was no point in trying to replace them; just about everybody was dead. The rebels killed every Roman and loyal Briton they could lay their hands on, and, as you know, Paulinus did the same to the rebel tribes.’
‘May I make an observation, governor?’
‘Of course.’
‘After what happened, I would have thought the first thing your predecessors would have built was a city wall.’
‘And you would have been right, had there been a city. You remember that sea of ash with just the occasional oven chimney left upright? Everything – houses, people, animals and stores – burned, and then the walls and gates pulled down and thrown on top for good measure. Any former inhabitant left alive wouldn’t come near the place because of its history. We still find blackened bones when we dig the foundations. When they put in the terrace here the builders unearthed an entire family not ten feet from where we sit. So, no city, no citizens, and no one could persuade replacements to come from elsewhere in the Empire after what had happened. Trebellius Maximus had the fort rebuilt to try to entice people back into its protection, but it wasn’t until Petilius Cerialis arrived that they were able to start rebuilding.’
‘But no wall,’ Valerius persisted.
‘By then Cerialis felt there was no reason for one. Paulinus had crushed the rebellion with such barbarous enthusiasm that I doubt any Briton will ever take up arms again.’
‘You had to take the Twentieth against the Brigantes.’
‘True, but that was more of an internal dispute. When they saw the legion marching upon them they mostly fled. No, Paulinus may have been a brute, but he did his successors an inestimable service, as you will find when you begin your tour of the country. And I intend to finish what he started.’
‘Titus told me of your plan for subduing the hill tribes.’
‘Yes. Claudius’s last instruction to Aulus Plautius was “Conquer the rest”, and here we are thirty-odd years later still talking about the threat from the north.’ Agricola hesitated. ‘But by necessity, and probably for the best, my original plan has changed.’
‘Necessity?’
Agricola nodded. ‘My spies have reported rumours that the druids are back, contaminating the tribes with their lust for blood vengeance. Fortunately, there is no reason to believe they are being listened to. But …’
‘You’ve had trouble?’
‘Worse than trouble. A massacre. An entire auxiliary garrison slaughtered on the edge of Ordovice country. The kind of obscenities we haven’t seen perpetrated since the Iceni witch’s day. Here is the report from the officer who went to investigate.’
Valerius read the scroll Agricola handed him and a shudder ran through him as he read of Claudius Vindex’s fate. He’d seen a man die on the stake on the Dacian frontier and it hadn’t been pleasant. He carried on until he reached the officer’s conclusions.
‘An attack from every side and only a handful of enemy casualties. That suggests overwhelming force. Not hundreds of men, but thousands. This wasn’t just a raid.’
‘No. It was a challenge. One I am minded to accept. A war cry intended to show the druids are still a force in the west. This beastliness is their mark. I originally planned for one legion to remain at Viroconium to cover the frontier, but I can’t leave this unfinished business to fester behind me. It would only encourage them to try something similar further east. In two weeks I will march in overwhelming force on the Ordovices, and destroy their power once and for all. But Mona is the key. Mona is not just the druids’ stronghold, it is the granary that feeds the Ordovices and their allies, and a centre of weapons manufacture. I intend to wipe this barbaric stain from the island of Britannia for ever.’ Valerius had a feeling he was listening to a speech Agricola had already made, but one thing troubled him.
‘I’m sure you’ve considered it, governor, but isn’t it a little late in the campaigning season to march against the Ordovices? Paulinus reckoned on a month to fight his way through the mountains. They would defend every hill and every river crossing. You’ve been there. In a month you’ll have the morning frosts turning your toes blue and the north wind cutting through your cloak like a knife. Two weeks later there’ll be snow on the mountains.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Agricola said stiffly, ‘I will lead Roman soldiers west to destroy the druids.’
XXIII
An officer with the rank of legate. Was it by accident or design that Valerius now shared a room with the four men in Britannia who commanded Agricola’s legions? They lounged on couches round a table the size of a small ship in a room built to scale. Nymphs, dolphins and strange sea creatures chased each other across the plastered ceiling and the deep terracotta tones and vibrant greens and blues of the wall paintings had clearly been chosen to remind Agricola of his home in Forum Julii.
The governor introduced
them one by one. Tiberius Julius Ursus, legatus augustus of Agricola’s old command, the Twentieth Valeria Victrix. A short, compact man with crow-black hair and sharp, angular features who punctuated his conversation with swift, darting hand movements. Caristanius Fronto, Ninth Hispana. Fronto’s deep-set eyes stared bemusedly at the world in a manner that suggested he’d already been drinking for hours. He had a querulous voice that demanded to be heard and a face the colour of a terracotta tile and the shape of a melon. Terentius Strabo, Second Augusta, tall and thin, with a lugubrious manner but bright, intelligent eyes. And Herenius Polio of the Second Adiutrix, young for his rank, perhaps only in his mid-thirties. A mark of the Emperor’s favour, or, Valerius mused, the favour of someone else in Vespasian’s circle. Polio had a pampered, well-fed look that might, wrongly, be mistaken for softness, and the kind of manners that only came with generations of patrician ancestors. Fronto apart, the legionary commanders studied the newcomer with undisguised interest, but Valerius could detect no outward malice. Nevertheless, one of these men was his enemy, and, until he discovered which, they must all be treated as such.
The girlish tinkle of Tabitha’s laughter reminded him that this was meant to be a celebration of his arrival in Britannia. The two wives shared a couch on one side of the table while the six men shared the other three. Fine wine flowed freely from Agricola’s store, but Tabitha’s cup barely touched her lips and Valerius sensed a growing understanding in the governor’s wife’s grave eyes.
When the last of the food had been cleared away, Domitia stood and thanked her guests for their understanding and hoped they enjoyed the rest of the evening. The lady Tabitha was tired and must rest after her long journey, and she would escort her guest to her room.
Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8) Page 19