“You have no need of a bodyguard in my hall,” Gebhardus said.
“Purely ceremonial,” the legate told him. “I must have a small number of soldiers about me at all times to uphold my rank. It’s a bore, really but there we are. Now to business, do you know a dark-headed chieftain called Hulderic? He has a green snake tattooed on either side of his face.”
“I know of no such man,” the king replied.
“He came to me asking military assistance on your behalf. He begged me to march with my entire legion but that I cannot do for anyone without the orders of my Emperor or my general. If you know nothing of Hulderic or his embassy, what can you tell me of the Marcomanni?”
The name caused consternation amongst Gebhardus and his advisors. A torrent of German poured out, each of them talking over the other. At last the king spoke directly to the legate.
“They are a fierce and numerous people but their lands are weeks away to the north and east. Why do you ask about them?”
“Because three thousand Marcomanni ambushed me two days ago. Are you telling me that you were unaware of the presence of so many warriors on your borders?
“I swear it. But I have a question. Why did you march your men out on the word of an unknown stranger, is that not unbelievably rash?”
“It would have been if he had not given me this token to prove he was acting on your behalf,” Quadratus replied, took the gold medallion from his belt pouch and laid it on the table in front of the king.
Gebhardus paled and his eyes went wide. He looked from the glistening object to the legate and back again without being able to frame a response. The man sitting next to him jumped up and ran into a side room, coming back almost instantly carrying a domed silver box which he reverently placed before his king. Gebhardus lifted back the lid, took out a piece of sable fur and unwrapped it revealing an identical lozenge of gold, marked with the bull emblem of Caesar. A burst of rapid-fire German rattled from the lips of one of his nobles.
“He says that what we have is a forgery made to blacken the reputation of King Gebhardus. The King wears the gift from Caesar to his father on all important occasions, it has been seen by thousands of people. Anyone could have copied it.,” Otto translated.
“Let me tell you what I think all this means,” said King Gebhardus. “You were lured from your stronghold with a false token. If you had fallen to the Marcomanni, the remaining soldiers in your fortress would have reported what had happened and the Treverii would have been blamed. Rome would have sent an army against me. I would have resisted on behalf of my people but we could not have prevailed. We would have been destroyed. The rest of your friends and client-kings in the Rhineland would see that Rome had made war on an old ally. All trust would have been lost. They would then take up arms themselves or at least make treaties of mutual support with hostile tribes.”
Quadratus stood up and held out his right hand. The king rose and took it.
“King Gebhardus, friend and ally, I believe you have spoken the entire truth. I offer you my hand assuring you that no shadow of this incident will weaken the strong bonds between our peoples. Remember, when we believed you needed us, Rome marched to your side.”
With great relief the king asked Quadratus to feast with him that evening.
“I may not, King Gebhardus. I must rush back to my camp as soon as possible as it is undermanned. If you could spare some provisions…”
“We are nearly at the end of last year’s harvest, but I shall offer what I can. If we do not have sufficient wheat is barley acceptable?”
“Whatever you can spare; I do not want your people to go without.”
The party returned to the cohort and it formed up ready to march. Two wagons came out of the city carrying sacks of grain and leading an ox for slaughter. Quadratus had his soldiers give the looted weapons to the king’s men and loaded the provisions into their own transport.
“Farewell, King Gebhardus, it seems we both have a new enemy, the Marcomanni.”
“New enemies come along as regularly as the seasons, Legate Quadratus, journey safely,” Gebhardus responded.
By eight-thirty, the cohort was twelves miles away in their marching camp with the slaughtered and jointed ox cooking over several fires. The long northern twilight was slowly fading into night and the men were at rest.
“Call an informal assembly, Titus,” Quadratus ordered.
“All right you lot, gather round, your legate wants to speak to you. Gods know why ‘cos you never understand bugger-all.”
The soldiers stood in a relaxed half circle.
“Men of the First Cohort of The Second Lucan, I commend your actions on this expedition and I shall say so in my report to the general at headquarters. Now, politics forced me to give the Treverii the weapons we collected off the corpses of those scum who were so stupid as to launch a cowardly attack on us. Lads, all I can say is they know better now, in whatever hell they find themselves.” A burst of laughter made him pause. “We still have the arm-rings to add to the legion treasure but there remains this.” He took the medallion off its chain and held it up. “Forgery it may be but it is cast in good, solid gold. Now, I can add it to the other loot or I can have it fixed to our eagle as a trophy of our latest victory. What do you say?”
“Eagle! Eagle!” the men chanted as one.
“Very well, I have heard you. First Spear Centurion Attius, I give this into your safe keeping until it can be added to our battle honours. There remains the gold chain. Who is to have it?”
There was a considerable pause then a voice shouted out, “Felix, the chain for Felix!”.
Quadratus raised his hand for silence. “Stand forward the man who named Felix.”
A grizzled haired veteran marched over and saluted.
“Why did you choose him? Speak up now, we all want to hear.”
“Sir,” the legionary bellowed, “Felix is a crippled man with no rightful place on a battlefield yet he sat up straight right through the fight with arrows sticking in his cart and whistling round his head, holding onto his siege spear like a good ‘un. He didn’t flinch that I saw and he didn’t get down behind his seat to hide. That’s why, sir.”
“Who is in agreement?” Quadratus called out.
“Felix! Felix! Felix” the legionaries chanted.
“I have heard you and agree. Soldier re-join your fellows. Where is Felix?”
He hobbled up and came the nearest he could to standing at attention.
“Former Decanus Felix, I and your comrades in the recent fight honour you.”
He placed the gold chain over Felix’ head and tried to ignore the tears running down the man’s cheeks.
The officers, with Otto at Lucius’ side, sat around their fire with watering mouths as the scent of freshly roasted beef wafted over them. It would soon be ready and not a moment too soon.
“The city of the Treverii would be difficult to take,” Quadratus said, conversationally to take everyone’s minds off their empty bellies.
“Not really,” Titus responded. “I had a good look at that stone bridge. Roman engineering that is, must have been some gift from Caesar. It’s impressive but its too wide and too well built to demolish quickly. Capture the bridge and you’re in.”
“I had thought of damming the ditch and then bringing down part of the palisade with artillery,” Lucius suggested.
“Take too long; no, hold the bridge, bring up a ram and smash the gates; quick, straight-forward, job done,” Titus insisted.
“But you would lose a lot of men….”
“An officer who is overly-careful with his men’s lives risks losing them all,” the big centurion told him grimly.
Quadratus and Aldermar nodded their agreement. An orderly arrived with thick slices of smoking beef and platters of army bread which silenced all discussion for several minutes.
Aldermar sat back and wiped his greasy chin with the last of his bread before eating it.
“Now then, Boxer, as a ke
en student of all things military, you have not yet cross-examined our legate on the doings of the day,” the prefect said.
Lucius looked directly at Quadratus.
“There is one thing, sir, if I may?”
“You may.”
“Why didn’t we camp outside the city? There was plenty of level ground.”
“Ah,” the legate replied, “a matter of diplomacy; if we had dug a ditch and raised a palisade, King Gebhardus would have been insulted at my lack of faith in his goodwill. On the other hand, I had no wish to leave my men at the mercy of the Treverii without any defences. Let us call it tactical expediency.”
Tertius’s scouts told him of the imminent return of the first cohort. They were greeted with horn calls from the camp when they came into sight. An honour guard snapped to attention and saluted as the legate rode in at the head of his men. Quadratus noted the number of extra sentries on the parapets and the artillery dispositions. He dismounted and exchanged salutes with Tertius.
“Report, Tribune Tertius Fuscus,” he demanded.
“I grieve for our fallen comrades, sir but nevertheless, all is well with your legion and your camp, Legate Publius Quadratus. It is good to have you back.”
“It is good to be back but it will be even better once I have bathed. Dine with me tonight, Tertius and we can exchange our gossip.” The legate turned to Titus. “First Spear Centurion Attius, dismiss the men, wounded to the infirmary, normal duty roster to be resumed as of first watch tomorrow.”
Over dinner, Quadratus listened carefully to Tertius’ full account of the measures he had taken and the reasons for them.
“You have made a good beginning with The Second Lucan, Tertius,” he told him. “The men have seen you in action and have gained some respect for you and you have taken command of the legion in my absence. I shall make mention of your attention to detail and tactical awareness in my report to headquarters. It will take me the next day or two to write it up so please retain your command unless there is something you must refer to me. I am going to request guidance on a suitable reward for Otto when I submit it.”
“Otto,” Tertius responded with a sigh. “He is an undoubted asset to the legion but his status….”
“Exactly,” Quadratus interrupted. “I cannot now imagine not having him in the camp but there is no official capacity in which we can use him which matches his merits.”
On the twenty-second of June, Quadratus received a response from headquarters. It informed him that the Marcomanni were probing in strength all along the border, testing Roman defences and resolve. His ambush experience was not unique. There was no doubt that this tribe was stepping up its aggression week by week and that it would soon launch a major offensive. The legate did not rush to take emergency measures but began to consult his senior officers. Their days of swatting away what amounted to little more than armed bandits were over. He would have to formulate a military response to the menace.
The next day, Tertius received a letter from home. He read it then called Lucius into his quarters.
“Do you remember I told you I had a brother in the courts in Rome? Well, I wrote to him and among other matters, I asked him to find out what he could about your grandfather. His reply will be interesting to you.” He folded a scroll so that most of what was written on it was hidden and handed it to Lucius. “The rest of it is not relevant and refers to certain confidential family business. I hope you will not be offended?”
“Not at all; it was very good of you and your brother to take the trouble,” Lucius said and began to read.
“The history of the unfortunate Taurius Vitius Longius’ dealings with Marcus Antonius are still talked about by greybeards in banking and legal circles. When he held the office of Tribune of The People, Antonius approached Longius and told him that the state needed money, a lot of money and that it would cause a financial panic if he went directly to the bankers for a loan. Longius was a loyal citizen and asked what he could do to help. The upshot was that he borrowed an immense sum against the value of his estates and passed it over to Antonius as a loan at the lowest rate of interest he could manage. Of course, none of it ever went to the treasury. But this is where Antonius was cunning, as usual. He remitted the annual interest on the loan to Longius for a few years so the poor gentleman believed everything was as it should be. However, as soon as he was appointed Joint Consul with the Divine Julius, the interest payments ceased. When Longius approached Antonius, he told him that he could either never speak of the matter again or talk freely about it to his fellow prisoners in jail. The banks foreclosed. Longius was forced to sell his house to pay the lawyers and outstanding mortgage interest. He retired from Rome almost penniless. I doubt if either he or his family could be numbered among those dedicated to the cause of Marcus Antonius.”
Lucius handed the scroll back and tried to think what he could say. His mind was whirling. All he had believed about his family’s political history was a lie.
“This is not the story my father told me,” he said at last.
“Nor, I suspect, is it what he was told by his father. Put yourself in your grandfather’s place for a moment. The head of a wealthy family of senatorial rank is duped out of his fortune by a highly placed rogue. He must have felt humiliated. Imagine looking at the masks of your illustrious ancestors and seeing nothing but scorn in their gaze. Better perhaps, to put it about that he was on the wrong side of politics in a very troubled period than admit he had been defrauded. Lucius, this is very good news for you. The stain of allegiance to the Antonians is washed away from your name. I shall have a scribe make a copy for you with a note from me telling how I came by this information. Send it to your father and between the two of you, make sure the truth has wings and flies. All I ask is that you keep my family name out of the public domain..”
Otto was also reading from his scroll of wisdom. He had made it a habit to read one item each week and then consider what he had read, as Aelia had instructed. He scanned the neat script and settled on a quotation of Lucretius.
“Time changes the nature of the world. Everything passes from one state to another and nothing stays as it is.”
He extinguished his lamp and lay back on his cot, feeling the soft air of the summer night on his face. Lucretius’ words struck him as obvious and not worth the bother of writing down. Of course, everything changes. Autumn gives way to winter. Rivers form ice, the ice melts and the rivers flow again. Babies are born, they grow into men and women then they die. He began to meditate on the words. The thought grew in him that they were more profound than he had first thought. If Lucretius was correct, there was no present when things were fixed; only a fleeting picture of the constant flux. If there was not really a present, what about the past and the future? Did they truly exist? He gave up and slept.
On the tenth day of July, Lucius and Otto were called to the legate’s office. Quadratus was making a bad job of trying to suppress a grin.
“Otto Longius, I wrote to the general telling him of your courage and that I owe you my life. Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius, I also informed him of the unusual bond between you and Otto and how it came about. The general passed my letter to the Emperor and he wants to meet you both, in person.”
“Who, the general, sir?” Otto asked.
Quadratus shook his head. “No, Augustus himself. You are summoned to Rome for an audience with the Emperor.”
They looked at him in bewilderment, unable to take in the meaning of his words. Quadratus placed a tight role of papers across his desk.
“These are your permissions to use the Imperial Courier Service for horses and inns on both legs of your journey. You are to report initially to Tribune Cassius Plancus at the Praetorian Guards’ barracks at the foot of the Palatine. I have added a note granting you ten days leave in Luca on your way back so that you may visit your family, Boxer. Here,” he added, putting a bulging purse on the desk, “some money for necessaries or indeed luxuries, there is no need to account fo
r how you spend it. Provided Augustus does not detain you I expect to see you before the end of September. Off you go, then. It really doesn’t do to keep an Emperor waiting.”
Chapter 26
Lucius and Otto reined in their horses to a walk and took their first look at the beating heart of the empire a few miles away along the Via Aurelia. The imperial seal on their documents had worked the magic that had seen them passed on from waystation to waystation like batons in a relay race. Each morning, a fresh horse was waiting for them and each evening, a bath, a meal and a bed. This was their eighteenth day on the road; they were travel-weary and their backsides protested at every step their mounts took but now the aches were forgotten at the sight of the greatest city in the world; sacred, rich and all-powerful Rome.
They had found the going much faster once they were on the Roman paved roads, as they had done on their previous journey to Luca. But this time they had given themselves no respite in their haste to obey the Emperor’s summons; he was a being so close to a living god that his slightest whim demanded maximum effort. There was no real necessity to travel so hard but they were young and believed their strength and energy to be limitless.
The city erupted out of the hilly landscape. The closer they came, the more they appreciated the scale of what they were seeing. It was impossible to comprehend anything so vast had been made by human hands. They began to make out the shapes of walls and towers, roofs and the peristyles of temples. The road was not crowded as they approached in the early afternoon. Later, it would be packed with wagons bringing supplies of every type into the city but their drivers would have to wait until sunset to enter. No wheeled commercial traffic was allowed into the city in the hours of daylight. The ordinance kept the streets clearer for the citizens during the day but the nights of many of them were constantly disturbed by the squealing of ungreased wheels, the cracking of whips and the angry voices of carters disputing the right of way.
Knight of Rome Part I Page 29