Legatus Legionis: Book Two in the Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy (28 page)

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"First, reassure Vipsania, and while you're doing that, you can tell her what's going on here, what we've done, and so on. Secondly, see what you can find out about this corn, and you might like to set up some sort of watch for the next shipment. Finally, go with Vipsania whenever she goes to see Quintus."

"And if Quintus becomes difficult?"

"Tell him that when I get back, I shall do more unto him than that which has been done unto you and Vipsania." And that, Gaius thought to himself, was probably not what Rebecca meant, but for the moment it would have to do.

"Right, then I'd better see Narcissus and see if it is all right by him."

"I've already seen him," Gaius said. "He'll be pleased to have your company, and I've given him a letter to Claudius explaining why you're going back. When you've done what has to be done, you're welcome to rejoin me for next year's campaigning, and I promise you'll have a privileged view."

* * *

Shortly after Timothy departed, the man who had yelled out "
Io, Saturnalia!
" was called to Gaius' tent.

"I see you are one of the more disruptive in your cohort and you have a rather impressive list of fatigues," Gaius remarked, "but you're also a good soldier when you put your mind to it."

The man stood impassively.

"As it happens you've done me a great favour," Gaius continued, "so we shall wipe these fatigues."

"Thank you, sir."

"I've also looked into the cause of those fatigues."

The man returned to standing impassively.

"Apparently," Gaius continued, "you seem to have this propensity for making smart comments when things aren't going right, almost like this call today."

The man said nothing.

"You think you know better?"

The man did not reply, but stood at attention, waiting for the rebuke.

"I see you can restrain yourself some of the time," Gaius nodded. "As it happens, on at least one of the occasions, your comment had some merit, not that I can approve of your making it. I hope you can see that war is not the time for smart-arsed comments when an order is given?"

"Yes sir."

"The question is, can you be more disciplined when the invasion starts? Can you restrain yourself from these bouts of, shall we say, loutishness?"

There was no reply, but the man was clearly feeling awkward.

"I'm prepared to take a chance with you," Gaius continued. "You're a good soldier when you put your mind to it, so put your mind to it as of now. I need men who can see an opening and are prepared to take advantage of it, without being silly. I'm going to make you an
Optio
, and I hope you won't let me down when the fighting starts."

"I won't. Thank you, sir."

"Right," Gaius said with a smile. "Dismissed."

Chapter 23

Dubrae! So keen the anticipation, Gaius noted to himself, that everybody had forgotten about falling over the end of the world. On the other hand, this might almost be the end of the world. Directly in front was a small harbour, behind which was a small fishing village. On the waterfront, when the fishermen saw this mighty fleet approaching, they dropped whatever they were doing and fled. Not too far away to the left and right, cliffs rose from the sea. As they got closer Gaius noticed that directly in front there was some reasonably flat land that narrowed as it went inwards. To both left and right there were promontories that should have made good observation points for defenders, were any there.

It occurred to Gaius that if he were a Celt and had a reasonable number of troops and some artillery, he would back himself to repel this invasion. The Celts knew exactly where the Romans would land, because they had to land at places other than below vertical cliffs, and where a number of ships could reasonably unload troops on sufficient land that the troops could advance and get out of the road of the troops yet to land. There were only about three such sites, and Rome was using all of them. The act of landing involved the invaders coming ashore slowly and beaching their boats, but not beaching them so firmly that the boats could not immediately put to sea again, which was required if they were to get out of the way of the next boats. This was a very slow exercise, and catapults firing onto the beach would cause chaos for the final thirty meters or so, while out to two or three hundred meters direct hits from the large ballistae would be sufficient to put a hole in most boats. The ballistae could also employ fire bolts, which would also have interesting consequences. The heavily armoured soldier was not going to swim ashore, and if any made it, troops on the shore with long spears would have a significant advantage, with the invaders struggling to even stand up in the surf and the undertow. The artillery on the shore would effectively have free shots, because there was nothing on these boats that could return fire, except perhaps for some archers, and those archers could do nothing to artillery that was properly placed on rises.

As they approached the beach, Gaius saw a small head look out from a hut. He smiled to himself as he saw a pair of arms pull the youngster back in. The mother need not fear. There was no Celtic force that would lead to fighting, and the Roman soldiers were under no illusions. Gaius had made it very clear that any crime against the local civilians would be met with the most severe punishment a Claudian could imagine, and as the last thirty years in Rome had shown, Claudii were not without imagination when it came to punishment.

As Gaius had predicted, the ships arrived shortly after dawn with a tide about to run in. The boats were driven into the beach and the troops rushed onto land. Gaius ordered an immediate march from the leading centuries to secure the high ground to the north of the bay, and as soon as the next wave of boats beached, further centuries were dispatched to secure the southern hill. The soldiers quickly advanced, but there was no opposition. The fourth cohort, when it landed, was sent inland. They marched two miles, then began to set up camp on the flattest available spot. Fortifications were erected, and watches set. This, Gaius realized, was the second most vulnerable period, as a full legion was so large it would take quite some time to get it all in place.

Over the next few days the rest of the legion, its auxiliaries, its equipment and its supplies landed, unopposed. The frantic construction of defensive fortifications later gave rise to a number of rude jokes, for there seemed to be nothing to defend against. The local tribes kept a polite distance, and the Roman soldiers did nothing to antagonize their "allies". In order to keep the locals as allies, Gaius offered to buy fish. The fishermen's eyes lit up when they heard how many were required. A full legion could eat a lot of fish, and "luxurious" food would do a lot for morale. Rations could return to normal once the invasion was well underway.

All went well the first day, and on the second, once the paperwork was completed, Gaius found himself with nothing to do. Again, the last thing the Tribunes would want was his overseeing, so he decided to walk to the inner edge of the camp and view the country they had come to conquer. A slight feeling of unease began to descend on him as he peered out over what was a rather wild scene. A half a mile to the west of the Roman camp on the side of a small hill were three pathetic huts made of old and decaying thatching, from which ragged children emerged from time to time. As he got closer, their lack of nutrition became obvious, but even more so was their lack of attention to hygiene. It was hard to tell when they had last washed, and it looked as if the rags they were dressed in had never been washed. Their expression was surly, and when offered food they grabbed it and pulled away. As far as Gaius could tell, they knew no Latin. The huts were flimsy, and beside one of the huts was a pathetic heap of firewood, far too small to protect them from the winter. There was no obvious sign of a father, which meant there was nobody to get more wood, nobody to get food. Yes, there were poor in Rome too, he knew, but at least it was warmer and drier in Rome. The poor were just a fact of life, and nothing could be done about them.

That was not quite correct, he realized, as if Rebecca was reminding him. He had the power of life and death. He could encourage tribal chieftains to see that such poor were able to live tolerably. It was not as if they would willingly turn him down, for there was nobody to overturn his decisions as to who would be sent to Rome as slaves. And while he was not intent on sending any more than he was ordered to, and allies would not be sent, they did not know that. He would have a word with the local chief. Those children would be fed. Perhaps, he smiled to himself, this walk was achieving something after all.

A little to the right of the huts was a huge tangle of brambles, while to the left was a track, below which was a reedy swamp. Behind the huts was a tangle of vegetation leading to the forest proper. The soldiers would love marching through this, he thought to himself. Narrow tracks, brambles, bogs, this was not the terrain best suited for deploying complex formations.

Nor was it the most desirable territory to conquer. This was a land where poor people scratched a very modest living. Vegetation grew well in the cool temperatures and frequent drizzle, but while wheat and grapes were grown, yields were something of a hit or miss nature, with crops often spoilt by rain or mould. Apart from the tin to west, this was a poor country, and it was far from certain that four legions could be profitably stationed here.

Caratacus and Togodumnus were fools of the first order. They should have sworn loyalty to Rome, and invited the Roman senators to visit, preferably in late winter. One look at these miserable huts, and there would have been no invasion!

The next task was obvious: proper maps were required of the inner regions. He spoke to the chieftains and got what information he could, then he sent
exploratores
inland, together with local tribesmen who had volunteered their services as guides. He needed as much information as possible on what route he should take to march inland, and on where ambushes would be most likely. This was not going to be easy, but he could get as much information as possible to help him.

* * *

A week passed, during which time the legion became well-prepared to march, but little else happened, other than that a ship arrived with messages from the
Princeps
for Plautius, and, in addition to other mail, a letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

By now I trust you will have embarked. You had better have embarked, because I believe the Senate will be in open revolt if Claudius cannot get his troops to invade. Little Boots might have manage to get away with collecting seashells, but I assure you, that won't work again.

Poor Claudius! He was so angry when Plautius' request came. He knows that if he went, the troops would laugh at his stuttering and would never embark. Then your letter arrived, so he told me, and he cheered up quite a bit. He still had to rely on Narcissus to convince the men, but I gather the last throw of the die would have been for the twentieth to lead the invasion. I am sure you would have got your men to sail.

On that note, you may tell the soldier whose farm was under threat that he now has a little more land. Claudius sent an agent out to reason with the landowner, and the landowner pulled out a knife and told the agent to get off his land, or else. Claudius also sent some Praetorians who were instructed to demonstrate what "or else" meant following an Imperial order. The landowner was executed for threatening an Imperial agent, and his sons have been conscripted to legions in Mauretania. The land has been confiscated, but a section immediately adjacent to your soldier's farm has been added to that farm. The Centurion let it be known in no uncertain terms that if he had to return to that region to settle the affairs of a loyal Roman soldier, he would be very angry, and he would also be rather unrestrained. I think all the neighbours received the message.

I have followed your advice about the corn however it also occurred to me that maybe corn was stolen, but not by Quintus. He may not know any more about this than we do, so I have arranged for an ex-soldier to go to Egypt and secretly keep an eye on what happens. I hope you don't mind my paying him.

I am afraid poor Polybius seemed to lose self-control. I know he was grieving, but there was nothing he could do, nor, for that matter, could anyone else. However, he refused to continue working properly, he was moping around doing nothing, and eventually he began answering back and becoming a real pain. I don't know what he finally did, but whatever it was it really annoyed Claudius, and he has now been executed. The fact that Claudius is under considerable strain probably didn't help in the slightest.

The one piece of good news is that Vitellius seems to be doing a good job as Consul. I now see what you meant; what I can't understand is how someone with that sense of duty and that ability could go around kissing shoes. I suppose it did endear him to Messalina, and I suppose that might have helped get him the Consular position, but all the same, if that is what is needed, then it seems to me that Rome is in trouble in the long term. I know you feel there might be some great enemy out there, but I rather feel the rot will come from within.

We are all praying to the household Gods to give you luck in your coming battles. I know you will conduct them with skill and flair, but all the same, I am sure it will never hurt to have some luck as well. Win quickly and come home soon.

Your loving Vipsania.

Gaius smiled at the last bit. He would write back and confirm one point: battles were inherently uncertain, and with all the skill in the world you still never knew enough about the enemy, or even what some of your own men would do. It was impossible to have too much luck!

The comment about Plautius' request to Claudius also struck home. Even he had not realized the seriousness of that request at the time. Plautius had done Claudius no favours for Vipsania was correct: Claudius did not look like a General. Men would follow Alexander because he seemed like a God: he never lost. Men would follow Julius because he generally won, and because he looked like a soldier. Poor Claudius did not stand straight, and his stuttering made it look as if he did not know what he was doing. Julius inspired men; Claudius made them laugh at him.