Rome’s Fallen Eagle (33 page)

Narcissus squinted against the glare. ‘The sea.’

‘And what’s on the sea?’

‘A ship.’

‘A ship? But that’s not just any old ship; that ship is going to make the difference between crossing the Tamesis in forty-five days or thirty days because that ship is going to disperse the Britannic army within a market interval.’

Narcissus’ bafflement was complete. ‘Nine days! How?’

‘Because the very same traders who took my silver yesterday in exchange for information about the Britons are now returning to Britannia; this evening they will be taking Togodumnus and Caratacus’ silver and telling them that our troops have mutinied and we won’t be coming. Once the warriors hear that, they will disband and go back to their farms, which they won’t do if we suddenly appear tomorrow. Now, I would have thought that
even a non-military man like you can grasp that if your enemy’s army splits up it will be much easier to defeat him and will cost fewer lives. So, imperial secretary, I suggest you leave the timing of this to me because this has nothing to do with politics; we’ll go on the calends of May. And don’t worry, the Emperor will still be called for in time for his glorious victory.’

‘See to it that he is, general.’ Narcissus glared at Plautius before turning and retreating from the room with as much dignity as he was able to summon in the circumstances.

Plautius turned back to his assembled officers as if nothing was amiss. ‘Now, gentlemen, where were we? Ah yes, the landing beaches; we will still use the new site just in case they leave a force at the original one, although I doubt they will. We’ll land in three waves; Legate Corvinus, you will have the honour of leading the first wave.’

Corvinus smirked with pride. ‘Thank you, general.’

Plautius pointed with a stick to a map of Britannia nailed to a wooden board behind him. ‘Your Ninth Legion and its attached auxiliaries will land on Tanatis and secure it. I shall command the second wave consisting of Legates Vespasian and Sabinus’ Second and Fourteenth Legions and their auxiliaries; we shall land an hour later on the mainland at this Rutupiae, as I shall now call it. The Second will muster and then advance immediately to Cantiacum, ten miles inland, taking King Adminios with you. On the first night Adminios will meet with kinsmen who have pledged loyalty to him and take their oath on behalf of three of the sub-tribes in the area whilst his emissaries will negotiate the surrender of the town. If they’re stupid, besiege it. Clear, Vespasian?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. You will also send your Batavian cavalry, under Prefect Paetus, west to see what’s ahead of us.’ Plautius searched out Paetus amongst the crowd of officers. ‘But you are not to make contact, prefect, just scout, is that understood? I want no flamboyance in my army.’

Paetus mustered his most serious expression. ‘No flamboyance, sir!’

Plautius stared at the young prefect for a moment, trying but failing to detect any insolence, before grunting and then carrying on. ‘The Fourteenth will move south, sending out your Thracian and Gallic cavalry on long-range reconnaissance to see if any of the Britannic army remains down there. If it’s clear, you are to leave a garrison at the natural harbour by the white cliffs and then rendezvous with us at Cantiacum no more than three days after we land. One hundred triremes will shadow you down the coast and base themselves in that harbour ready for use later on in the campaign for land and sea operations along the south coast. Whilst they wait their crews and marines will be put to work turning that harbour into a port fit for our purpose; I want warehouses, jetties and a lighthouse. We’ve come to stay, Sabinus, understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Any questions?’

‘What if we find the whole hundred thousand-strong army down there?’

‘Then you send to me for reinforcements at the speed of Mercury.’

‘At the speed of Mercury, sir.’

Plautius nodded curtly. ‘The third wave will be under the command of Legate Geta. It will consist of his Twentieth and their auxiliaries and the supply ships with the baggage, artillery and one month’s rations. You will be twelve hours behind us to give us time to clear the landing area of transports. Once you’re ashore, Geta, your men will construct a fortified camp in two days, big enough to hold the whole force should we suffer a reverse. This will be the basis of a permanent garrison with a port. Then you will join the Second and the Fourteenth at Cantiacum on the third day.’

Geta looked less than pleased to be given construction work.

‘When Geta vacates the camp, Corvinus, you will bring your lads across the strait and occupy it and then put half the remaining navy to work building the port and send the other half north into the Tamesis estuary ready to shadow the main force west. Then we shall be ready for our advance, provided Sabinus
has not found too much resistance in the south. I will issue general orders concerning that on the third day ashore once everything is in position and I have a better idea of the enemy’s disposition. Any questions, gentlemen?’

Vespasian looked around the room; no one seemed to be about to ask the obvious question. ‘Yes, general, I have one: what do we do about the mutiny?’

‘Nothing, Vespasian. There are almost two market intervals until we go and there will be plenty more traders going to and fro across the Gallic straits. They have to think that we are at an impasse with our men. They’ll believe it because they saw the same thing happen four years ago when Caligula tried to invade. I want nothing done to suggest to the Britons that we may come after all and cause them to re-muster their warriors. The supply ships will remain loaded but the men will remain in camp doing only basic fitness training. It will be down to me to persuade them onto the ships the day before we go; then we shall see. Dismiss, gentlemen.’

‘I don’t think he can do it,’ Magnus informed Vespasian as they stood outside the gates of the II Augusta’s camp.

‘We shall see.’

‘You reckon? Well, I reckon we’ll see a fiasco. I’ve been talking to a lot of the lads and they don’t want to go. They’re shit-scared because they’ve been listening to some of the old-hands’ stories, lads who re-enlisted after their first stint. More than a few of them in the Fourteenth Gemina were part of Germanicus’ fleet when it got caught in the storm on the way back from Germania, twenty-seven years ago. They were wrecked on Britannia’s shore and they’ve got tales of beasts half human and half fish and spirits and ghosts and all sorts. They don’t fancy it, sir, not one bit.’

Vespasian looked at the faces of the legionaries marching in cohorts out of the gate to parade with the other legions and auxiliary cohorts on the flat ground between the port and the five massive camps that surrounded it – the fifth had been constructed by Asiaticus’ newly arrived reinforcements of two Praetorian cohorts, four cohorts of the Eighth Legion and auxiliaries –
including elephants – that Claudius would technically bring from Rome with him. ‘They do look sullen, to say the least.’

‘Sullen! I’d say they look mightily pissed off and mutinous.’

‘Perhaps; we’ll see,’ Vespasian muttered but agreeing silently with his friend.

He had no cause to disagree; in the first few days after Plautius’ briefing, discipline in the camps had been on the verge of breaking down. The centurions and their optiones had been hard-pressed to keep their men from boiling over into outright rebellion. He had been obliged to order two executions, more than a dozen whippings and countless canings and it had seemed to him that there were more men on latrine fatigue at any one time than there were trying to fill them. Recently, however, the men had calmed down and discipline and a sense of unity had returned; punishments had decreased and basic training and kit maintenance had continued. However, although their morale had returned Vespasian was not sure that it had returned in sufficient quantities to give Aulus Plautius much chance of persuading them to embark in a few hours’ time.

The one benefit of the delay had been the extra time with Caenis. Although they were both busy with their duties during the day, the nights were their own and they had taken full advantage of them. She had also been a valuable source of information as to Narcissus’ mood, and it was plain that it would not be just Plautius who would suffer if the invasion did not go ahead; he would carry out his threat to curtail the careers of all the officers. What Caenis could not say for certain, though, was whether Narcissus’ own career was at stake. She rather suspected it would be because she was sure that both Pallas and Callistus would use the failure against him; as would Messalina if and when her brother’s suspicions were conveyed to her. It seemed to Vespasian that Narcissus had potentially as much to lose as Plautius if this assembly did not go well; now would be the appropriate time to find the Eagle.

It was with these thoughts going around his head that he watched his men march to their allotted place on the parade ground and form up in neat ranks and files next to the two cohorts of the
Praetorian Guard in the place of honour opposite the dais. Once they were in position and he had taken their salute he made his way to his place, next to Sabinus, with the other legates and auxiliary prefects, beside the dais from where Plautius would address the men – via many heralds placed around the field to relay his words.

Plautius arrived as soon as the last unit had taken up its position. As was his right as a proconsul he was preceded by eleven lictors, which made Narcissus, walking beside him, look rather foolish with just a retinue of two slaves following him. Leaving the freedman at the bottom of the steps he mounted the dais whilst his lictors formed up in front of it, displaying their fasces representing the power of Rome that he held in his hand: the power to command and to execute.

At a bawled order from somewhere amongst the lines of iron-clad men reflecting the warm morning sun a shout went up and they hailed their commanding officer – although not with as much enthusiasm as Vespasian had heard them do so previously.

After a few moments – and wisely before the accolade started to die down of its own accord – Plautius raised his hands and gestured for silence. ‘Soldiers of Rome, I stand here before you not only as your general but also as your brother. As your general I will lead you, but as your brother I will share with you all the hardships that we may be forced to endure. As a soldier I know that hardship is as much a part of our lives as victory; and victory will be ours. However, we have to go out and earn it, which we cannot do by staying here in our tents.’

Plautius paused so that the heralds could relay his words throughout the vast crowd punctuated by standards and banners and fronted by four legions’ Eagles. Vespasian studied the faces of those legionaries nearest him; their expressions did not fill him with hope.

‘I understand your fears,’ Plautius continued, ‘you have no desire for the unknown. But Britannia is not unknown. Our armies have already been there almost one hundred years ago and they came back! And when they did it was not with tales of strange monsters and vicious spirits but of men, men who could be beaten. They came back with tribute and treaties.’

‘I think he’s going about this the wrong way,’ Sabinus whispered to Vespasian as again the words were carried around the field. ‘They don’t give a fuck about tribute and treaties; they want plunder and women.’

‘He can’t promise them that; if we’re to pacify the tribes we need to beat them in battle and then take their surrender and make them allies, or at least neutral, so we can work our way west without having to be constantly looking behind our backs.’

As if to confirm Sabinus’ statement a low growl began to emanate from the massed ranks before them; they were unimpressed by tribute and treaties.

A nervous look flashed across Plautius’ face as he carried on: ‘So I appeal to you, soldiers of Rome; do not let unfounded fears get in the way of glorious conquest. I already know personally of the valour of the Ninth Hispana and their auxiliaries from our time together in Pannonia.’ A half-hearted cheer went up from that legion and their supporting cohorts. ‘And I know of the valour of the Second, Fourteenth and Twentieth Legions and attached auxiliaries in safeguarding our Empire along the Rhenus from the reports I read when I was appointed commander of this expedition, and I look forward to witnessing it at first hand.’ There was no such cheer from the rest of the army, instead the growl began to grow and pila shafts started being thumped on the ground; centurions bellowed at their men to desist but to no avail. Only the Praetorians stayed motionless. Plautius glanced down at Narcissus with fear in his eyes and nodded to the freedman. Narcissus looked over to the Praetorian cohorts, raised up his hand and then headed for the dais steps; from within the ranks of the Praetorians two guardsmen walked forward carrying a large wooden box between them. Throughout the army the thuds of pila shafts regulated into a uniform beat.

Vespasian shared the tension of the officers surrounding him.

‘What can that duplicitous shit do to help?’ Sabinus muttered against the growing tumult.

‘I think he’s trying one last throw of the dice,’ Vespasian replied as Narcissus joined Plautius in front of the army. ‘The dice that we risked our lives for.’

The two guardsmen hefted their burden up onto the dais and retreated back towards their unit. The rhythmical pounding continued to grow and here and there shouts of ‘No!’ and ‘We won’t go!’ could be heard over the din.

Narcissus knelt down to open the box and reached inside.

The army grew increasingly vociferous with more and more men declaring their refusal to go. Centurions and optiones, outnumbered as they were by forty to one, were unable to prevent the escalation, and stood glowering, furious at their impotence in the face of such mass disobedience.

Narcissus got back up, holding with both hands a wooden pole, one end of which remained hidden in the box; with an effort he swung the pole up and raised aloft the Eagle of the Seventeenth.

The front ranks of the central two legions gradually ceased beating their pila on the ground; their stillness radiated out to the two flanking legions and back along the files to the auxiliary cohorts behind. All eyes were soon fixed on the symbol of Rome held up before them.