In that moment the atmosphere changed and Lucius almost dropped the knife. The horse moved a step into the river before a crashing sound from the forest made the man draw it back.
‘Lucius, where in all the gods’ names are you,’ Didius called.
Lucius looked over his shoulder. ‘Here, Didius,’ he cried.
When he looked back the other bank was empty.
‘Tell me what happened.’ Valerius tried to keep the relief from his voice as he crouched in front of his son. Didius stood at the boy’s side, unable to meet Tabitha’s eyes.
‘It was my—’
‘I am asking Lucius, trooper.’
‘Yes, lord.’
‘I slipped away from Didius, Father.’ Lucius kept his eyes down. ‘I’m sorry, but Khamsin was hard to control.’
‘All right,’ Valerius said. ‘What then?’
‘We stopped to let her drink in the river. That was when I saw him.’
‘Description?’
Lucius’s face screwed up in concentration. ‘As tall as you, Father, I think. On a pale horse. But he didn’t show his face. He wore a hooded cloak. And …’
‘Yes?’
‘He had a strange voice. Like Marius when he’s really, really drunk.’ He raised his eyes to look into Valerius’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Father.’
Valerius could have hugged him, but he kept his voice stern. ‘No harm done.’
‘I’m sorry, lord,’ Didius said. ‘I should have kept up with him.’
‘I said no harm done, Didius. I know what the little …’ Valerius sensed Tabitha stiffen. ‘Well, we’ve had our lesson. Lucius, you’re not to go out of sight of the carriage unless I give my permission, understand?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Didius, tell Felix I want flank guards and scouts. From now on we act as if we’re in enemy territory. There’s no reason to think there’s only one of them, so I want complete vigilance at all times. Carry on.’
Didius saluted and went to where the officers waited.
‘Our friend Cearan?’ Tabitha asked.
‘It sounds like it.’ Valerius reached down and unconsciously ruffled his son’s hair.
‘What does he want?’
‘I wish I knew.’
They reached the top of the ridge overlooking Londinium without further alarm, the escort worn to a shadow by constant vigilance and the savage driving of Felix, who felt responsible for allowing Lucius to leave the convoy.
‘Thank the gods for that,’ Didius said to Shabolz as they looked down the long, shallow slope. ‘A warm bath, a decent rest, a cold cup of wine …’
‘You’ll be lucky if the legate doesn’t throw you in the cells,’ Shabolz said with unusual force.
‘All I did …’
‘What’s that?’
‘Where?’
‘See, the dust?’ The Pannonian pointed. ‘A rider coming up fast.’
Didius caught a flash of colour among the trees below and a horseman appeared on the road. ‘An Imperial courier?’
‘Stay here,’ Shabolz ordered. ‘I’ll alert the legate.’
Valerius was waiting beside the carriage with Tabitha when Didius rode in with another rider, identified by the yellow cloak which gave him priority on any road and at any way station. His horse had been ridden hard and Valerius guessed the man had word of their coming.
The courier confirmed it after gratefully gulping down the contents of a jug of water. ‘The patrol from Durolitum came in at last light and said they’d passed you on the road. I’ve been riding since dawn to bring you this, lord.’ He passed over a leather scroll case with a red seal. ‘From the governor.’
‘The governor is in Londinium?’ Valerius didn’t hide his surprise.
‘No, lord. Another courier brought it in from the west yesterday.’
‘Please excuse me.’ Valerius motioned Tabitha to join him and they walked a little way from the group around the carriage. He handed her the scroll case and she broke the seal and deftly opened the straps to reveal a single sheet of parchment. She offered it to Valerius, but he shook his head. ‘You can read as well as I can.’
‘To the legatus iuridicus Gaius Valerius Verrens,’ she read. ‘If you are my friend, Valerius, you will join me at your earliest convenience at Viroconium. A situation has developed which requires your presence here. It may take some time, so be prepared to stay the winter. Your friend, Gaius Julius Agricola, proconsul.’
Tabitha looked up and met Valerius’s eyes. ‘Not Lindum, then?’
‘You wanted to see the country,’ he said. ‘The west is as good as the north.’
She laughed, pleased that he accepted without argument that she and Lucius would accompany him despite the changed circumstances.
‘This message mentions a situation,’ Valerius called to the courier. ‘Did your comrade talk of anything that would explain it?’
‘Only that a rider had arrived at the camp, lord, and the governor’s aides called all his senior commanders to his tent.’
‘Felix? Take five men and ride ahead to Londinium. Start preparing everything we need for a prolonged absence. I plan to stay for only three days to deal with anything urgent that’s arisen while we’ve been in Colonia.’
‘Yes, lord,’ the young decurion called over his shoulder, already walking to his horse and shouting out the names of the men who’d accompany him.
‘And Felix …’
‘Lord?’
‘Equip us as if we’re going on campaign.’
XXXI
On the far horizon smoke rose in lazy grey pillars from hundreds of cooking fires and forges, the unmistakable mark of a legion in camp. It had taken Valerius and ten of his cavalrymen three days of hard riding and little sleep to reach the ridge overlooking the valley of the River Severn. Tabitha, Lucius and the rest of the escort were a few days behind, travelling at a more leisurely pace. Valerius had decided to hurry west because he sensed an urgency in Agricola’s message that was impossible to ignore. He’d long since given up wondering what ‘situation’ could be significant enough to drag the new legatus iuridicus a hundred and fifty miles and more away from a task that, less than a week ago, had seemed crucial. He gave the smoke a last look and nudged his horse forward. He would know soon enough.
The road approached Viroconium from the east, sloping gently down to the plateau above the river where the fort squatted behind stout walls and deep double ditches against a distant backdrop of sawtoothed mountains. They could make out individual legionaries moving between the wooden barracks and the administrative buildings. From what he could see, Valerius guessed it held only a single legion, presumably the Twentieth, and that the cohorts of the Ninth Agricola had counted upon were already on the march, or yet to arrive. On the grassy flatlands by the river he made out the individual camps of at least three auxiliary cavalry wings and perhaps five infantry cohorts, their standards flapping in a north wind that had suddenly grown appreciably chillier.
A small group of horsemen emerged from the gate and Valerius recognized Agricola at their head, the scarlet cloak that identified his high status billowing behind him. Beneath the cloak all he wore was an ordinary workaday tunic despite the cold.
‘You’re a welcome sight, Valerius,’ Agricola called out in welcome as he approached. ‘We hadn’t thought to see you for another two days at the earliest. Those horses of yours must have wings.’
‘Governor.’ Valerius rapped his fist to his chest in salute. ‘It is good of you to meet us.’
‘I’d thought to show you something of our dispositions,’ Agricola said. ‘You get a much better view from up here. Sextus,’ he called out to the officer commanding his escort, ‘show Legate Verrens’ troopers to their quarters.’
‘Get what rest you can,’ Valerius called to the departing riders. ‘You’ll be on the road tomorrow to reinforce the lady’s escort.’
They watched as the men rode away towards the fort. ‘What’s all this about dispositions?
’ Valerius smiled. ‘I can see them perfectly well for myself.’
‘Am I so transparent? Even a governor’s principia isn’t immune to flapping ears and there are things I have to tell you I’d prefer to keep entirely between ourselves.’
‘This situation you mentioned in your message?’
Agricola nodded. ‘Come, we’ll take a look at the auxiliary camps.’ He turned his horse north and Valerius fell in by his side. ‘The first thing you should know is that the legate of the Ninth is dead.’
Valerius turned to stare at him. ‘Fronto?’
Agricola nodded.
‘Perhaps,’ Valerius chose his words with care, ‘he wasn’t suited to an arduous campaign.’
‘There’s no need to be diplomatic with me, Valerius. In this matter I think we have to be perfectly frank with each other. The man was an ignorant brute, and worse, no soldier. He should never have been given command of a legion. Unfortunately, he had the support of certain members of the Senate whose votes the Emperor depends upon. That makes his death a delicate matter. And it’s made more delicate by the fact the manner of it raises a number of questions.’
They came to a halt at the top of the slope overlooking the camps by the river. Valerius took a few moments to digest what Agricola was telling him, and more important what he was not.
‘You’re saying his death was suspicious?’
‘I’ll let you make up your own mind as to that.’
‘Of course.’
‘Two days ago I ordered Fronto to take six cohorts of the Ninth two days’ march into the hills to the west and set up camp there. The intention was to establish a base and send out cavalry patrols to explore potential routes into the interior and assess the strength of any Ordovice forces in the area. It was as much a test of their ability and morale as a military exercise. I sent two of my aides with him, which displeased him even more than usual.’
‘No commander enjoys being …’
‘Spied upon?’ A bitter, fleeting smile from Agricola. ‘He is under my command. He must accede to my authority. I suspected that, true to what I believed of his character, he would send his legion blundering into the mountains, with little advance preparation and smashing and slaughtering everything in his way. As it happened I was wrong. Our bold Fronto turned out to be as timid as a dormouse. The Ninth advanced barely twenty miles in two days. He wouldn’t turn a corner without sending an auxiliary cavalry wing to scout the position first.’
‘Some people would call it prudence,’ Valerius pointed out.
‘And others would use a harder word.’ Agricola’s eyes focused on the distant mountains. ‘If I am to advance on the northern tribes next year it is vital I destroy the power of the druids before winter takes a grip. At Fronto’s pace we wouldn’t reach Mona before next summer. But that is of no matter now, because he’s dead. He’d been drinking with his officers and went to bed at his normal time. At some point during the night he decided to take the air. Yes, I know,’ he said, acknowledging Valerius’s disbelieving grunt. ‘The next morning a scout discovered him at the foot of a cliff with his neck broken.’
‘An unfortunate accident.’
‘Indeed, and there I would have left it had this not been found among his possessions.’ The governor handed Valerius a wooden shaving of the type the clerks used to copy out draft orders before writing them fine. Valerius studied the precise Latin characters. Marcus Caristanius Fronto is a dead man.
‘I see.’
‘The fool who found this handed it to his centurion.’ Agricola took the note back and tucked it into the pouch at his belt. ‘The contents are not widely known, but enough to mean I can’t do what I’m minded to and use it for kindling. Fronto’s death must be investigated, and what’s more it must be seen to be properly investigated. So what is more appropriate than that I send for my esteemed legatus iuridicus, a man trusted by emperors and versed in the darker arts of politics …’
‘I think you exaggerate my talents, governor,’ Valerius observed wryly.
‘… whose arrival – how did Ovid put it? Yes – whose arrival kills two birds with a single stone. You will investigate Legate Fronto’s death, Valerius, and with Fortuna’s favour you will indeed discover that his fall was an unfortunate accident brought on by drink and foolishness. If not, I have no doubt you will find a murderer. You will note I do not say the murderer, for I believe you will not want for suspects. It will be up to you to choose the most expendable.’
Now Valerius was genuinely puzzled. ‘Surely that would be up to the new legate?’
‘You have not been listening, Valerius, or perhaps I have expressed myself badly. Two birds with a single stone. As well as investigating Fronto’s death I am using my imperium to appoint you to command of the Ninth legion.’
‘But the Emperor …’
‘Will undoubtedly ratify my decision. My need is urgent, Valerius, and there are plenty of precedents for special appointments to legionary commands. Claudius appointed Julius Romulus legate of the Fifteenth Apollinaris in Pannonia long before he was of age, because he knew he was the right man to put down the Suebi, and the Danuvius had been stripped of legions for the invasion of Britannia. You are the only candidate of suitable rank in the province. You have experience of high command. Didn’t Primus give you temporary charge of the Seventh at Cremona?’ Valerius couldn’t deny it. ‘Good. Then it’s settled. I need a strong hand at the reins of the Ninth, Valerius, and a steady one. A man who isn’t afraid to take risks and who won’t panic.’
Valerius tried to force his reeling mind to focus. Of course, that was it. ‘Fronto’s lack of enterprise would have been of no consequence if the Ninth were to march with the Twentieth. It would only be a problem if they were to serve as a detached force.’
‘Precisely.’ Agricola smiled. ‘Which proves you are the right man for this post. Come, it will be easier to explain at my headquarters.’
They rode back to the fort and entered through the Porta Praetoria. A groom waited to take their horses when they reined in outside the principia. Agricola led Valerius inside and along a corridor to a room with a large sand table at its centre. The scene was all so familiar it sent a shiver of anticipation through Valerius. Agricola had deluged him with so much information, changes and challenges and numbers, it had been like crouching behind a shield during an arrow storm. Now his mind cleared. If he had any doubts they could wait. He was a soldier again. He remembered the sand map Corbulo had created for his campaign against Vologases, the Parthian king of kings, a dozen officers listening intently as the general issued the orders that would determine whether they would live or die. It had shown a great swathe of desert, a few hills and the Cepha gap – the bane of Vologases’ army. This was different.
‘Viroconium.’ Agricola pointed to a wooden block at the near side of the table. ‘The Twentieth and six cohorts of the Ninth, plus four of auxiliary cavalry and another eight infantry. Close to fourteen thousand men. On the far side, Mona, the island of the druids, strength of the defenders unknown. Between, what looks like an impenetrable mountain range, but we know it isn’t because Suetonius Paulinus fought his way through them before Boudicca gave him something else to think about.’ He bent low to study the contours of the hills and for the first time Valerius heard doubt in his voice. ‘Of course, those mountains will be filled with Ordovice warriors, with perhaps help from the other hill tribes. I had intended to attack them head on with all my forces, but my greatest fear is that they will melt away into the hills. Mona is not my only objective. It is imperative I destroy the power of the Ordovices and any threat to my rear while we’re in the north. That is why I have developed a new strategy for this campaign, and why Fronto and the Ninth were so important.’
Valerius studied the map table. ‘Where is the Ninth now?’
Agricola looked up. ‘Your legion is here, legate.’ He drew a line from Viroconium a short way west along a clearly defined valley which, according to the map table, ran straight a
s an arrow towards Mona. ‘Depending on the opposition, it is around four or five days’ march through difficult terrain to the coast opposite Mona.’
‘Supplies?’
‘Each man will carry food for three days. No carts, so everything else and a further week’s supply will be carried on mules. My experience with Paulinus tells me there will be no shortage of watering places.’
The hills looked innocent enough on the sand table, but Valerius knew he must expect an ambush from every height, and every bend in the road to be contested. ‘So the Ninth is to be the bait in the trap.’
Agricola nodded, a sharp movement like a starling pecking at spilled corn. ‘In four days’ time I will take the Twentieth and all our auxiliaries on a night march north. We will leave a token force in the fort to create the illusion of occupation. Trumpet calls, cooking fires, and movement between the barracks and headquarters buildings as normal.’ He turned back to the table. ‘This valley was surveyed by Paulinus’s exploratores and found suitable, but he preferred the northern coastal route. See how it brings us to this river line, here,’ he pointed to a place perhaps three quarters of the way to Mona, ‘where we can wheel south and cut across your line of march. Your task, legate, is to wait until the morning after I march and advance towards Mona. If I’m right they will contest your progress, but only to draw you onwards. You will allow yourself to be drawn, and the small size of the force will make the Ordovice chiefs overconfident. My plan is to make them believe you are nothing but a relatively strong punishment operation to burn a few settlements and take a few hundred slaves in return for what they did at Canovium. If you look as if you have overstretched yourself I believe they will concentrate all their forces to destroy you.’
‘And then you hit them in the flank,’ Valerius said. It wasn’t a bad plan, such as it was. He looked at the map, imagining a full legion marching through the narrow valley Agricola indicated. Timing was everything. So many things could go wrong. All it would take was one scout, or even a shepherd boy, to find their way to the main Ordovice force. ‘What happens if the enemy discovers the Twentieth is gone and blocks your line of march while he deals with me? Thirty thousand warriors, I think you said.’
Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8) Page 26