Veterans of Rome (Book 9 of the Veteran of Rome Series)

by William Kelso

  Abruptly the jury member sat back down again, as an excited stir swept through the courtroom.

  “Very well,” Bradua exclaimed, as he looked down at the floor. “Then it is my prerogative as judge and senior magistrate to cast the deciding vote.” For a moment the governor paused. Then slowly he turned to look at Marcus. “I find the defendant not guilty of the charges levelled against him, due to a lack of credible evidence,” Bradua snapped. “The case shall be referred back to the senate in Rome, for them to decide what to do now. The defendant is innocent, and he is hereby acquitted. He is to be released. That’s the judgement of this court.”

  As Bradua finished speaking a huge cry and shriek of joy rose from the public gallery. At his desk, Senovarus flung his pen onto the ground, hissing in delight whilst Otho, the prosecutor looked stunned and speechless. Marcus swayed slightly on his feet, as the outburst of noise swirled around him. In his seat, the governor had turned to look at Marcus, his stern face unreadable, but as their eyes locked onto each other, a subtle and silent exchange took place.

  Then Senovarus was at Marcus’s side, shouting at the guards to cut the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. A moment later, Kyna and Dylis too came rushing up to Marcus, as around them the courtroom descended into chaos. Embracing Marcus, the two women clung on to him, as the uproar grew and grew. Seated at his desk, Otho was staring into space. Then his face exploded into rage, as from behind him, Cunomoltus slapped him playfully over the head again.

  “You are free Marcus,” Kyna cried out in an ecstatic voice, as she tried to make herself heard above the noise. “You won Marcus. You have won. We can go home. It’s over.”

  As the guards cut him free, Marcus grimaced as he was once more able to move his arms about again. Then before he could do anything else, Senovarus had grabbed hold of his right hand and was shaking it - the lawyer’s face sporting a huge triumphant grin. Turning to Dylis, Marcus quickly reached out to embrace his sister in a fierce, silent hug. Then the press of the crowd was sweeping him towards the exit and out of the hall. As the people poured out of the palace and into the streets, the legionaries guarding the building hastily stepped aside. Around Marcus, voices were calling out his name and it seemed as if everyone was speaking at the same time. However, Marcus did not seem to be listening. Twisting round in the mass of people sweeping him out of the governor’s palace, he was just in time to see Otho emerge from the building. The prosecutor seemed to be in an urgent conversation with one of his assistants. Then abruptly the assistant nodded and hurried away through the crowds and as he did, Marcus grimly lowered his gaze and turned to look away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – News from the East

  There was no one about on the road leading south towards the coast. In the blue summer sky, the sun beat down on the land, bathing the lush forests and green rolling hills in a shimmering heat. Out on the Roman road, the five riders trotted along, side by side, taking up the whole width of the highway with Marcus riding in the middle. He was clad in a long cloak and his left arm was once more trembling uncontrollably. Riding beside Marcus, Cunomoltus was softly and happily singing one of the Hyperborean songs to himself. Kyna meanwhile had her head turned towards the glorious sun and was bathing her face in its warmth. Indus had retreated into his usual silent self and was stoically gazing at the road. Only Dylis looked puzzled. For a while the five of them rode on without talking, heading southwards towards the coast, homeward bound to the Isle of Vectis that lay across the narrow straights. At last Dylis seemed unable to contain herself any longer and she twisted round in her saddle to look at Marcus.

  “How the hell did you manage to get the governor to acquit you?” Dylis asked with a little puzzled shake of her head. “I still don’t fully understand what happened in that courtroom?”

  Marcus sighed as he reached out to gently rub his shaking left arm. Then he glanced over at his sister.

  “Senovarus, your lawyer friend was right,” Marcus replied. “The governor was facing a dilemma that could ruin his career and he was looking for a way out. So, before the trial, when you were all asleep, I slipped out at night and went to see him.”

  “You did what,” Dylis exclaimed.

  “I went to see Bradua,” Marcus growled. “Like I told you. I knew him from my days in the senate in Rome. We are both members of the War Party. The governor was facing a dilemma that could cost him his career and possibly his life. So, I went to his palace on the river to offer him a way in which to save himself. I showed him a way out and he took it. I made a deal with him.”

  “A deal,” Dylis spluttered in confusion.

  “That’s right,” Marcus nodded solemnly. “I told the governor that Hadrian and his right-hand man and enforcer in Rome, Publius Acilius Attianus had put together a proscription list, a death list and that his name was on it. Once Hadrian becomes the new emperor, all the men on this list are going to be executed and their property seized. So, in exchange for acquitting me, I offered to get the governor’s name removed from that proscription list, using Fergus’ influence with Hadrian. That was the deal I made. I also told him, just to make sure that - if he allowed me to be convicted, a letter would be delivered to Hadrian, detailing the governor’s personal complicity in the assassination attempt on Hadrian in Athens.”

  “How do you know about these proscription lists?” Dylis said with a frown.

  Quickly Marcus glanced at Kyna and some silent communication took place between husband and wife.

  “I know about the proscription list,” Marcus replied, “because Fergus has informed me that my name too is on Hadrian’s list. In Rome I met Attianus. He is one ruthless son of a bitch.” Marcus turned to glance at his sister. “Once Hadrian assumes power, blood is going to flow in the streets of Rome. There is going to be a reckoning and a settling of scores. Attianus and Hadrian are going to have most of the high-ranking members of the War Party purged.”

  “So, you see sister,” Kyna said, as she glanced carefully at Dylis. “Hadrian is not our friend either. He too is an enemy. He has so far refused to take Marcus from his proscription list because of that assassination business back in Athens - the attack that Fergus helped prevent.”

  “Only you. Only you, Marcus,” Cunomoltus called out in a cheerful voice, turning to Marcus with a broad, happy grin, “could manage to offend the two most powerful men in the world at the same time. You are a stubborn old man. But I don’t care about them. I am just glad that this is all over and that we’re going home.”

  “This is not over yet,” Marcus growled. “I cannot be legally tried for the same offence twice, but Nigrinus is not going to give up. He wants me dead. I fear now that he will resort to even more drastic measures to bring me down. We must remain on our guard. Nigrinus will not rest until I am dead. He will try again. One of those senators was his cousin or have you all forgotten that.”

  In their saddles, Marcus’s words seemed to have a sobering effect on his companions and for a long moment no one spoke. At last Dylis frowned.

  “How did you know that Marcus Appius Bradua’s name was on Hadrian’s proscription, death list,” she blurted out.

  “I didn’t,” Marcus growled as he turned away to look down the road. “I was bluffing but the governor bought it.”

  ***

  As Marcus and his four companions came trotting down the rutted track towards his villa on the Isle of Vectis, the slave standing on guard duty in the watch tower, blew his trumpet. The warning rang out across the golden wheat fields and the small vineyard that ran down the south-facing slopes of the nearby ridge. Riding up to the gates of his property, Marcus raised his hand in greeting as he saw Jowan and Petrus coming out of the house towards him. They were followed by a third man, who came limping across the courtyard towards the gates.

  “You are back, Marcus,” Jowan cried out, unable to hide the joy in his voice. “You won the case. This is great news. I shall have one of the sheep slaughtered and tonight we shall feast. All of us, we
shall have a feast.”

  Dismounting Marcus grinned, as Jowan and Petrus hastened towards him and embraced. The men were laughing with relief.

  “It’s good to have you back, Marcus,” Petrus called out, with a relieved smile. “Every day I have prayed to god for your release and now it seems my prayers have been answered. Thank and praise be to the Lord.”

  “It’s good to be back home,” Marcus muttered, as he fondly reached out to grip Petrus’s shoulder. “Fucking hell is it good to be back here on the farm.”

  Then he turned and frowned as the third man came limping towards him. The fit looking stranger was in his early thirties and deeply suntanned.

  “Is that you Aledus,” Marcus exclaimed in surprise.

  “It is Sir,” Aledus replied, with a broad, happy smile. “I arrived two weeks ago, but you were away in Londinium. It’s good to see you again Sir and you too Lady Kyna.”

  And before anyone could act, Aledus had smartly stepped forwards, taken hold of Kyna’s hand and kissed it.

  “We weren’t sure who he was at first,” Jowan said, glancing at Aledus with a grin. “He claims to be an old army buddy of Fergus and to have served together with him in the Twentieth. He knew so much about Fergus and yourself Marcus, that I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him to stay.”

  “Yeah,” Petrus interrupted. “But I think he may have got one of the slaves pregnant. The girl you brought back from Rome. She doesn’t seem to mind though, but I thought you should know, as she is your property.”

  Marcus nodded with a content, relaxed look, and for a long moment he said nothing as he grinned at Aledus. Then stepping towards the former legionary, he embraced him.

  “It is good to see you again Aledus,” Marcus said. “You shall always be welcome here on my farm. I know you and Fergus go way back.”

  Aledus smiled. “I have news Sir,” he began. “News from the east, from Syria, from Fergus.”

  “News,” Marcus repeated as around him he sensed his family tense with sudden expectation and dread. “We haven’t heard from Fergus in nearly two years. What has happened to the boy?”

  “Yes Sir,” Aledus said with a quick nod. “After I left you at Portus I managed to find my way to Antioch in Syria. It wasn’t easy but eventually I managed to find Fergus and convey your message to him. He and Galena and their daughters were well and in good health when I left him. This must have been autumn or winter, late last year, Sir.”

  Aledus paused as up on her horse, Kyna hastily dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to Petrus, before turning to stare intently at Aledus.

  “Go on,” Marcus said quietly.

  “When I saw him Sir in Antioch,” Aledus said, turning to Marcus “he had just been promoted to Tribune Laticlavius of the Fourth. It’s a big promotion. He is now second in command of the whole legion Sir.”

  “The boy has done well for himself,” Marcus growled approvingly, as he quickly glanced at Kyna.

  “I believe the Fourth are involved in the invasion and fighting in Mesopotamia,” Aledus continued. “That’s what I have heard but I can’t be sure. There are troop vexillations all over the fucking place. The picture is confused. A third of the whole army has been concentrated in the east. Maybe you know differently Sir, but the latest that I have heard, is that the war rages on without any sign of a final victory. The Parthians have not surrendered. Nor do they seem to be seeking to make peace. My guess is that Fergus and the Fourth are right in the thick of it, but he’s a tough one Sir. Fergus will survive.”

  “My boy is on the other side of the world,” Kyna exclaimed.

  Aledus sighed and glanced around at the anxious, tense faces that were staring back at him.

  “When I left him in Antioch, he told me to tell you to have hope,” Aledus said quickly. “He told me that he would try and enlist Hadrian’s help in this quarrel you have Sir with Nigrinus. Fergus however wasn’t sure he would be able to do much. He says that Hadrian doesn’t always listen. Nor is he always interested. Still he is going to try and use his friendship with Hadrian Sir to help you. That’s what he told me.”

  “Hope,” Kyna said. “Fergus told us to have hope?”

  “That’s right,” Aledus replied. Then the former legionary’s face brightened. “There is one piece of good news that Fergus told me. He has managed to get Hadrian to take your name off his proscription list. He wanted me to tell you that Hadrian no longer seeks your death. Don’t ask me how he managed to do it, something to do with Galena and her friendship with Trajan’s wife apparently.”

  “Well that is something,” Marcus nodded approvingly. “That is something. So, we do not need to worry about facing Attianus when the time comes.”

  “Thank the gods Fergus and Galena and their daughters are all right,” Kyna said abruptly, turning to look away. “Thank the gods. Thank the gods. I shall pray for their well-being tonight.”

  Marcus nodded in agreement.

  “I am sorry Sir that it took me so long to get here,” Aledus said in an apologetic tone. “Transport was not always easy to find. I was marooned in Crete for a month and the winter storms on the sea didn’t help.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Marcus replied, reaching out to pat the former legionary on his shoulder. “You are here now. I would like you to stay with us on the farm. I could use a man with your skills, experience and training. Are you willing to stay, Aledus?”

  “I believe he is going to leave behind one very heartbroken girl if he leaves now,” Petrus interrupted, raising his eyebrows as he did.

  “Yes Sir. I want to stay here,” Aledus said, ignoring Petrus. “When we parted company in Antioch, Fergus and I agreed that we would meet again here on Vectis. I have some family in Londinium but I am happy to stay here.”

  “Good, then it is settled,” Marcus said as he turned to gaze at his farm.

  “I can help out on the farm Sir,” Aledus said. “I may have a limp, but I am not afraid of work. I can work in the fields or with the cattle.”

  “No,” Marcus said sharply. “No, I have something else in mind for you. Something that you are far better qualified for. This business with Nigrinus. It is not over. So, I need you Aledus to do a job for me. I need you to start recruiting a dozen mercenaries; experienced men who know how to fight. I want you to recruit them and bring them here to defend my farm and my family, preferably before the first winter snows. And I am also going to need you to start preparing some fixed defences for me around the farm. Can you do that?”

  For a moment, Aledus gazed at Marcus in silence. Then he nodded.

  “A dozen trained men? Fixed defences. Shouldn’t be a problem if you have the gold,” Aledus replied. “Leave it with me Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – An old friend Writes

  January 117 AD

  The long white rolling waves came crashing and surging up the sandy beach before eventually expending their energy and receding, hissing and foaming as if angry that they’d not been allowed to go any further. Marcus, clad in a thick winter’s cloak made of fur, sat alone in his chair on the beach, gazing moodily out to sea. It was a cold, dry and blustery day and the breeze was whipping up the grains of sand and tugging at his long, grey beard. Along the towering cliffs to the west and on the higher ground in the direction of his farm, snow covered the rolling hills, fields and forests of Vectis in an endless blanket of whiteness. The heavily overcast skies seemed to have taken on the same colour as the sea and had merged into the restless waters. Marcus’s left arm was shaking, and his face seemed to have shrunk and tightened, revealing his cheek bones. He looked old and worn out. Some way off, near the waterline, the solitary slave who had carried the chair for him, was playing with the three hunting dogs. The animals were barking excitedly and jumping about, as the slave sent them chasing after a piece of wood.

  Alone and sitting in his chair out on the beach, Marcus turned to look down at his shaking arm. None of the doctors he’d visited had an explanation fo
r the shaking or had been able to recommend a cure that was not completely stupid. He was just old Marcus thought with a resigned look, as he turned his attention back to the grey sea. Old. Or maybe Indus was right, and the shaking of his arm was a sign that he had been touched by the gods. Moodily, Marcus peered at the waves, as they came racing up the beach towards him but never quite making it. Maybe the gods were reminding him that his time was running out and that they expected him to fulfil the bargain he’d made with them – to do what they commanded in exchange for ensuring Fergus’s survival. But what did the gods want him to do? There had been no signs, no omens, nothing except the continuous shaking in his left arm.

  As he thought about Fergus, his mood seemed to lighten. The boy had done well, exceptionally well. Tribune Laticlavius, second in command of a legion! It was a worthy achievement. Corbulo, despite a lifetime’s worth of service, had never managed to get beyond the rank of company Tesserarius, a lowly watch commander. He himself, Marcus thought, despite commanding the 2nd Batavian Auxiliary Cohort for a short period, had never risen any further up the army hierarchy. But Fergus; Fergus had managed to do what neither he nor Corbulo had managed to do. As he thought about his son, Marcus’s cheeks coloured with pride.

  With a sigh he reached into his tunic and carefully pulled out a small wooden writing tablet. The letter had arrived the previous day, delivered by a merchant on his way to Isca Dumnoniorum. For a moment, Marcus gazed down at the seal. The letter had come from Paulinus in Rome. Breaking the seal, he carefully opened the tablet and peered at the small and neat words scratched into the soft wood.

  Paulinus to his old friend Marcus. Greetings. I heard about your trial in Londinium and that Bradua acquitted you. This is good news. Congratulations. Bradua has shown he is not a complete arse-licker after all, and I am happy for you Marcus. But I fear it is my lot to once again be the bearer of worrying news. Things are not going well for us here in Rome. Morale amongst the War Party is plummeting and the likelihood that Hadrian will be announced as the next emperor grows with every single passing day. We are expecting Trajan to announce it soon. Several of our colleagues have already switched sides and gone over to the Peace Party. I have heard that others are preparing to abandon politics and retire to their country estates. But they shall find no peace and safety there. I suspect Marcus, that some of our colleagues will prefer to kill themselves, before being forced to do so by that awful man Attianus and his band of cutthroats. How Hadrian manages to tolerate that vile creature I do not know. As for myself, I shall stay here in Rome to defend the Treasury. Someone must remain to look after the imperial finances, for they are far too important to be left to any man without an understanding of how to properly manage money. I have vowed to defend the Treasury with my life, for the state finances are my life and I am too old to start anew. I fear though, that in this climate, should they tear my fingers from the Temple’s doors, rash men shall be put in charge of the treasury and make a mess of it. Rome may be guarded by the legions, but it is the Imperial Treasury that pays for it all and without that money we shall have only chaos and ruin.