The Last Battle

by Nick Brown

  Venator cast the towel aside. ‘I must apologise for calling on you before you’ve even had a chance to settle in but this cannot wait. Do you know General Titus Russus Dolabella?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘A member of the emperor’s inner circle. He is one of the men responsible for planning offensive operations and he’s been inspecting the front line for several days. Last night he was abducted from a place named Lavona, some thirty miles from here – a village on the Rhone. We must assume the enemy have him. Dolabella was inspecting the Third Italian. Prefect Gratidius has despatched his entire cavalry cohort to find him under a decurion named Umbrius. They should arrive in Lavona later today. I want you there by tomorrow. You’ll have to ride through the night, Corbulo.’

  ‘Er … yes, sir.’

  This was about as far from what Cassius had hoped for as possible.

  Venator wiped water from his brow and fixed him with an unblinking gaze. ‘To be clear, I can say with some confidence that no man alive knows more about the emperor’s strategy than Dolabella. Obviously, I can’t say where but Aurelian is already in Gaul. And he wishes to move quickly – within days. If the enemy can get what’s in Dolabella’s head, we may be forced to delay the entire offensive. Or worse, they will be able to analyse where we are weak and launch their own strike. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir, of course. If I might ask – surely the cavalry have a far better chance of locating him. They can move quickly, deploy great force.’

  ‘Perhaps. Decurion Umbrius will attempt to recover Dolabella before he is taken too far into enemy territory. But Tetricus has units deployed across that area, so Umbrius may well be drawn into battle. A smaller group is more likely to be able to move undetected. I am not sending you to fight, Corbulo. I’m sending you to investigate; learn what you can. I know how capable you are – that’s why I asked for you originally, though I confess I could not have foreseen this development. Perhaps it is the will of the gods that you are at my disposal.’

  Two words would not shift themselves from Cassius’s mind: enemy territory.

  ‘Some cold milk, sir?’ asked Amandio.

  Venator nodded. ‘Whichever way it goes, Corbulo, I’d hazard a guess you’ll be back here within a week. If we don’t find Dolabella in the next few days, we’re not going to find him.’ The prefect grimaced. ‘Poor old boy, he should have retired years ago.’

  ‘You know him, sir?’

  ‘I served with him in the Fourth during the Persian campaigns almost twenty years ago. He was a chief centurion: I was a tribune, even younger than you are now. Dolabella is a good man and a proud Roman. He’s a tough old bastard – he’ll hold out as long as he can.’

  Though the chill of fear now gripped him, Cassius felt a vague sense of pride that the prefect thought him worthy of such a task. But the thought of being caught on the wrong side of the lines if fighting broke out was a terrifying one.

  ‘You still have that hard-arse ex-gladiator with you?’

  ‘Er, yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. We also have a scout for you. Local man. Knows both sides of the lines very well, as I understand it.’

  ‘I see, sir. Thank you.’

  Venator walked over to a desk, collected a single sheet of paper and handed it to Cassius. ‘My orders with signature and stamp – that will help you if you run into Umbrius or anyone else on our side. If you’re in amongst the enemy, keep it very well hidden or destroy it.’

  Cassius took the paper. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Venator gripped his shoulder. The effortlessly noble prefect was so very different to Abascantius: he actually made Cassius want to do his bidding.

  ‘Again, I’m sorry to put this burden on you. But the future of Rome rests on this campaign. With Tetricus out of the way, the emperor will at last be able to put the years of turmoil behind us. That is something worth fighting for, is it not?’

  ‘It is, sir.’

  ‘One more thing. I know you have only a few months left to serve. I guarantee you this – if you get Dolabella back, you’ll not be asked to undertake such risks again. I pledge it.’

  Cassius greatly appreciated this but his mind had moved on to a practical point. ‘Sir, you said that the general is rather old. If he is subjected to interrogation, torture … even if we do find him, he may be very weak.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And in that case …’

  ‘You will have to use your own judgement. We must do everything we can to stop the enemy obtaining crucial information. Everything and anything.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’

  ‘Thirty miles by tomorrow morning, Corbulo.’ Venator gestured to the curtain. ‘May the great and honoured gods favour you.’

  Tribune Plinius was waiting outside with the scout: a skinny, rather poor-looking fellow of around fifty. He wore a grimy tunic and boots that looked like he’d made them himself; and was armed with only a dagger. Tied up nearby was an equally unimpressive pony. It carried no saddle but on the ground beside it was a bundle of gear including a spear and a bow.

  ‘His name’s Enca,’ said Plinius. ‘We inherited him from the local garrison. One of the centurions said he’s the best scout he’s ever worked with so I’ve no doubt he’ll serve you well. He’s on our payroll so you needn’t worry about money.’

  Enca came forward and bowed. His angular face was dominated by a long, narrow nose; his greying hair was thick but unkempt.

  ‘How’s your Latin?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Good enough, sir,’ replied Enca quietly.

  ‘We’ve a long distance to cover,’ Cassius told Plinius. ‘Might need a couple of spare mounts.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the tribune, whose approach was markedly different to the previous day. ‘I’ll have them brought over.’

  ‘We shall also have to leave some of our bags with you.’

  ‘Not a problem.’

  Cassius turned to Enca. ‘Ready?’

  The Gaulish scout bowed once more and retreated to pick up his things.

  Plinius came close to Cassius. ‘Did the prefect mention Volosus?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We don’t know who’s behind the abduction of Dolabella but it’s underhand enough to be his work. I do not say this for effect, Corbulo: if you come across Volosus, be very, very careful. He is Tetricus’s chief of intelligence and he will know that if his man loses, his days are numbered. We were briefed by a centurion who has manned the border for years and there are many tales about this man’s plots and deceptions and tricks. He is resourceful and ruthless. One of yours.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A fellow grain-man. An agent like you.’

  Aware that he would have many hours in the saddle to contemplate wider questions, Cassius decided to concentrate on more urgent matters. The first of those was establishing a decent relationship with the scout Enca.

  ‘How did you come to serve the legions?’

  Towing his pony and carrying his gear, Enca did an admirable job of keeping up with Cassius’s lengthy stride.

  ‘My father worked for a rich man, guarding his game and helping him hunt. When he died, I took over and later worked for the son. He lost his lands when Postumus rebelled. No work. I knew about animals and tracks and the land. I needed money so I worked with the First Minerva for a few years.’

  ‘The First? They sided with Postumus.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘So, you fought with the enemy?’

  ‘No, sir. Well, with them but I was just a guide. I made a mistake and an officer turned against me. After that, I had to leave.’

  ‘A mistake?’

  ‘I told him he was wrong to order an attack. I told him he couldn’t advance through an area of forest without alerting the enemy.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I was right.’

  ‘Then the mistake was his.’

  ‘Not my place to tell an officer what to do.’

  ‘Your place is to a
dvise – and please don’t hesitate to do so. How did you change sides?’

  ‘I slipped across with my family, made myself known to the first officer I found. With my knowledge of enemy lines and territory, his prefect was happy to have me.’

  ‘I’m sure. So, you’ve no loyalty to either Tetricus or Aurelian?’

  ‘Not really, sir.’

  ‘I admire your honesty. You simply work for money?’

  ‘In a way. Though the money is for my children.’

  ‘For when you are no longer able to work?’

  ‘No,’ said Enca. ‘I shall have to continue as long as I can.’

  ‘Surely they’re of working age now?’

  ‘Yes but they were both born deaf and blind. My wife looks after them. The only money we have is what I earn.’

  ‘I see. That is most unfortunate – for them both to be so afflicted.’

  ‘My wife and I believe the gods blessed us, sir. She never miscarried, the births were easy and my children are healthy. They are able to live happily enough. I bought a plot of land outside Cularo. We have good, kind neighbours. They will be safe there. The legion pays well. A few more years and I can retire.’

  Cassius could not help feeling rather disturbed by the apparent ease with which Enca has changed sides but he seemed a good man, at least.

  When they reached the tent, he was relieved to find that Simo and Indavara had already packed up. He introduced Enca then helped the others attach the saddlebags to their mounts. While they were doing so, one of Plinius’s men arrived with the spare horses.

  ‘Enca, what do you know of the area around Lavona?’

  ‘I believe a century of the Third Italian is stationed close to the village. There are other units at certain strategic points in the area but I believe there’s no large enemy force closer than the Twenty-Second Primigenia – the last I heard they were just east of Novidunum. But everything might change in the next few days and weeks. It all depends on who moves first. Might I ask what exactly we’re doing in Lavona?’

  ‘I dare say that will become clear to you in time. Now listen here. Simo over there is an attendant – he will feed us, look after us if we are ill or wounded. Indavara there is a fighter, the best I’ve known. And I am in charge. But when it comes to matters of navigation and local knowledge, I will bow to your judgement. Concern yourself with one matter only: conducting us from one point to the other without encountering the enemy. You do that, and we will get on very well. Do we understand each other?’

  Again, the cordial bow. ‘Yes, sir.’

  With Simo already towing Patch, and Indavara still a perpetually poor rider, it was Cassius and Enca who had to lead the two spare horses. Cassius wasn’t happy but Enca did not complain, even though the beast he was towing was considerably larger than his pony. There was little need of the scout’s expertise during the early part of the day. From the legion encampment, they followed a well-used track that sloped gradually downwards and eventually met the broad, paved road that ran from Axima to the city of Genava. This route was extremely busy and they encountered a succession of travellers, mostly heading south. To Cassius, they looked like families keen to avoid the fighting. There were also several army units, including two separate groups of auxiliary cavalry.

  By midday, the four travellers had overtaken three centuries also heading north. And around the eighth hour they rounded a bend to find the entire road blocked. Cassius soon discovered that some artillery was being moved up ahead and that a catapult had come off its mountings. Worse, this section of road was bordered by forest on both sides and a mass of pedestrians made swift passage impossible. Thankfully, Enca had a solution.

  Turning back, they left the main road earlier than planned but soon picked up the track he had been aiming for. As dusk approached, they were around twelve miles from Lavona. Knowing that they could now reach it by morning without pushing too hard, Cassius ordered a halt.

  Tying the mounts to the fence of a long-neglected vineyard, the men slumped down in long grass. Exhausted and sore, Cassius was glad to note that Enca was not one to complain. In fact, he was the first one back up on his feet. Simo followed; and the two were soon pouring water for four horses, a pony and a donkey.

  ‘This is bloody horrible,’ said Indavara, who did not enjoy riding at the best of times. He was lying flat on his back and had just pulled his boots off.

  ‘At least we’ve done most of it,’ said Cassius, who was suffering with very sore thighs.

  Indavara rolled onto his side to face him. ‘You said you’d tell me what this is all about when we had a moment.’

  ‘One of our generals has been abducted, probably by Tetricus’s men. He knows more than anyone about the emperor’s plans. There’s an entire cohort of our cavalry looking but Venator also wants us to have a go. Could mean operating a long way behind enemy lines.’

  Indavara’s expression said more than any number of words.

  ‘That was pretty much my reaction.’

  Indavara sat up. ‘You don’t really believe in the gods, do you?’

  Cassius shrugged. ‘They haven’t ever given me much reason to.’

  ‘You’re a Roman. Maybe you should be more faithful to the great gods.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because they keep on punishing you.’

  Cassius almost laughed but it wasn’t a day for laughter. ‘Unusually thoughtful, Indavara. And your life has been one long series of joyful escapades, I suppose?’

  Indavara snapped off a long stem of grass and gazed down at it. ‘Maybe we’re both cursed.’

  Simo arrived with two wooden mugs full of watered wine.

  Cassius took his mug and knocked it against Indavara’s. ‘Then at least we’re in good company.’

  IX

  Volosus knew nothing about the history of the fortress at Ecthya. It seemed evident that – at some point in the distant past – someone had exploited an opportunity offered by nature. Close to the top of the limestone block was a V-shaped gap and within this, a structure had been built and developed over time. Fortress seemed a rather grand term but it suited his purposes perfectly.

  As he slid from his saddle and hailed the men ahead, Volosus allowed himself a sigh of relief. They were fifteen miles from Lavona and only ten from an entire cohort of the Twenty-Second Legion. In the event of an enemy incursion or a wider attack, the defenders would intercept them. And in the unlikely event that any force reached Ecthya, they would never get into the fortress itself. That was precisely why Volosus had chosen it.

  Ecthya was manned by a ten-man squad led by a seasoned optio named Manilia, who was waiting for the party in person. He did not look particularly pleased to see his new guests but shook forearms with a firm grip.

  ‘Officer Volosus. I trust you received my letter.’

  ‘I did,’ said Manilia.

  Volosus had mentioned that he was acting directly on the orders of Tetricus and used the emperor’s personal stamp on the letter – no forgery was required here.

  Manilia was a primitive-looking fellow, thick-lipped with a strong jaw and a nose clearly flattened by numerous blows. Volosus knew he would be a decent soldier; Prefect Clemens of the Twenty-Second was unusually conscientious.

  ‘Welcome to Ecthya,’ offered the optio without warmth.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Volosus looked up again at the formation. From the base, almost vertical slabs of pale limestone stretched upward, patched by vivid green bushes. The fortress was well concealed, visible only by the few square windows and two wooden platforms at the base. Down on the ground, the only real clue to the structure’s existence was a small stable.

  ‘How long have you been stationed here?’

  ‘A year or so. Nice views. Boring, though.’

  ‘I’m sure Prefect Clemens is glad you are here, as am I. If all goes well, we shouldn’t be troubling you for too long. I was assured that the lift is the only way in or out. That’s correct?’


  ‘It’s two-hundred feet. A goat might get halfway up. A man – no chance.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘The prefect asked me to make certain so I had some of our men try. None got higher than thirty feet.’

  ‘Excellent. And how do you call the lift down?’

  Manilia turned and signalled one of his men.

  The legionary picked up a bell and rang it vigorously. From two hundred feet above came an answering peal. After a minute or so, Volosus realised he could see a rectangular shape descending.

  ‘Two big winches,’ explained Manilia. ‘Takes about five minutes though we can go quicker if need be. Engineers fixed it all up a couple of years back, apparently.’

  ‘The equipment is all reliable?’

  ‘We make sure of it. The lift will take eight but we usually stick at six. Or perhaps five if he’s going up.’

  Manilia was looking over Volosus’s shoulder and had just noticed Gutha. The mercenary dragged the bound Dolabella out of the carriage and pushed him forward.

  ‘We have a few bags also,’ added Volosus.

  ‘Two trips then,’ said Manilia. ‘We can put your horses in the stable, the carriage round the back.’

  The optio’s gaze had shifted to Dolabella. ‘Who’s the prisoner?’

  ‘An important man – let’s leave at that.’

  ‘Very well.’

  As they halted, Gutha watched the lift, which was now halfway to the ground. Dolabella looked weary. Upon his head was a nasty bruise where the mercenary had struck him to keep him quiet.

  Even so, he summoned the energy to address Manilia. ‘Optio, I am a general of the imperial legions, you will-’

  Gutha casually knocked a great fist against Dolabella’s ear. ‘Must I remind you again?’

  Dolabella cried out. The elderly, overweight officer seemed a rather pathetic figure; Volosus didn’t imagine it would take long to break him.

  He caught Manilia’s eye. ‘You will instruct your men that no word of my party – the prisoner in particular – must leave this place. Our enemies will be searching for him.’