Valerius was stunned by the audacity of the plan, and more so by the fact that Corbulo was offering his head on a plate to his enemies. He remembered Vespasian’s warning. Did he want to be liked or valued? He opened his mouth to speak.
‘With the greatest of respect, general,’ Collega’s voice shook slightly as he interrupted. ‘To take such a course of action would be at best risking your command, at worst …’ He faded away as if his tongue was unwilling to speak the word they were all thinking. ‘You intend to meet a force of seventy thousand Parthians with a Roman one of not much more than twenty thousand. This is a campaign which warrants months of preparation, yet you give us only days. Victory is far from certain; defeat would leave Syria open to King Vologases’ army and risk the loss of the entire Roman east. Vespasian would be trapped between a victorious Parthian army and the Judaean rebels, who have already proved they can be a match for a Roman legion. I beg you to reconsider.’
Valerius came to attention, bringing a glare from Corbulo and a look of hatred from Mucianus that almost stopped his tongue.
‘I must agree with General Collega. In my opinion you would be risking too much for too little. Even meeting such a formidable army on favourable terms would be dangerous. To meet them with such a weak force seems …’
‘Madness?’ Corbulo’s arid voice completed the sentence for him.
Mucianus pushed his way round the table to face Valerius. ‘So, the Palatine’s spy shows his true colours and becomes an expert in eastern warfare in the same instant. What does a mere tribune know of grand strategy? We have been fighting these barbarians since you were issued your first
caligae
, soldier, and thanks to this man whose reputation you have the audacity to demean we have defeated them every time we have met them.’
‘I am not …’
‘Let us not fight among ourselves when the enemy may already be on the march.’ Corbulo stepped in front of Mucianus, and turned to Valerius and Collega. ‘Everything you say is true. No one knows better than I what we risk by this strategy. Yet I believe there is no other way. May I explain?’ Collega bowed and stepped back from the table. ‘My good friend General Mucianus is correct that we have been facing the Parthians and their Armenian allies for more years than I care to remember. No matter how many times we defeated them, no matter how strong the defences we put in place along the Euphrates, they were always a threat to Syria, and, by extension, to Asia and the east. Until now. I know Tiridates. He is not his brother. He would rather hold what he has than risk everything again. With Tiridates on the throne there is an opportunity for lasting peace. But he must be allowed to take that throne and rule with Rome’s blessing. If we stand back and allow Vologases to invade Armenia we will be in danger of throwing away everything we have won, everything Roman soldiers have fought and died for in those gods-cursed mountains for twelve long years. Armenia will become a Parthian state, and our weakened condition ensures that Vologases will have the leisure to consolidate his rule. I will not let that happen.’
Corbulo straightened and his voice took on a power that mesmerized every man in the room. ‘Once before, I stood on the banks of a river and obeyed a command not to cross. That river was the Rhenus and the command came from my Emperor, Divine Claudius. The German tribes were in disarray and at each other’s throats. They were ripe for defeat. We had an opportunity to smash their power for a dozen generations, to emasculate them and enslave their warriors. To extend Rome’s rule as far as Germanicus, who died in this very city, dreamed. But I turned back, and what has happened? We have had to fight each and every day since to keep what is ours. Thousands of brave men have died, and worse, our timidity has encouraged the tribes of the east to test themselves against us not just on the Rhenus, but also on the Danuvius. None of this would have happened if I had had the courage to do what was right.’
‘But the Emperor …’ Collega said.
‘The Emperor and his advisers must do as they see fit, just as Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo will.’ Corbulo slapped the table, indicating that the time for argument was over. ‘Now, to the details. We will march in two days. General Mucianus will rule Syria while I am beyond the frontier. You, Gaius Collega, will hold the bridge at Zeugma.’
As the next hour unfolded, Valerius was astonished at Corbulo’s grasp of every aspect of warfare. He outlined the timings, routes of march and even rations per man for each of the legions involved to Casperius Niger, who took notes as Corbulo rapped out a string of commands.
‘And finally to the mounted element of the main force. As we know from long experience our cavalry is the key element in any combat with Parthian forces. Parthian mounted archers are among the best in the world. We have been relearning that lesson ever since Crassus was taught it so painfully at Carrhae.’ The other generals murmured agreement and Valerius understood that the threat must be very real. ‘Once we are in the hills, they will attempt to divide us using hit and run attacks from ambush and weakening us in a thousand pointless skirmishes. Anything but meet us in a full-scale battle. But time is my enemy’s enemy. Parthia is a fractious state and the bulk of its army is drawn from those of a hundred different warlords. Vologases knows that he cannot stray from home for long or he will return to find another man on his throne. If we can convince his soldiers that they only have death to look forward to and not plunder, they will start thinking about home, hearth and wife. The legions which march to meet Vologases will be accompanied by three regiments of mixed cavalry, six
alae
of Numidian light cavalry and eight of mounted archers from Syria, Thracia, Cappadocia and Phrygia. A force of close to ten thousand men. Gaius Valerius Verrens will command that force.’
For a moment, the room went very still and Valerius would swear the birds stopped singing in the trees outside the window.
Mucianus, predictably, was the first to find his voice. ‘You would place your fate in the hands of this untested puppy,’ he spluttered.
‘Hardly untested, and the puppy has teeth.’ Corbulo smiled. ‘Valerius
Verrens
is a Hero of Rome, holder of the Gold Crown of Valour, last survivor of the Temple of Claudius in Colonia and scourge of the rebel Queen Boudicca. You have commanded mounted troops?’
‘In Africa.’ Valerius was as taken aback by his appointment as Mucianus. ‘But only as part of legionary punitive expeditions.’
‘What is this but a large scale punitive expedition?’ Corbulo demanded of the room. ‘In any case, it must be enough. The coordination between cavalry and the heavy infantry of the legions will be vital. I need a soldier with a proven record as a fighting officer and experience of combined operations.’ He turned to Valerius. ‘Your light cavalry will be issued with double the standard number of javelins and the archers will take as many arrows as they can carry. I know it will create weight issues, but we will conserve their energy as much as we can on the march. Do you have any questions?’
At least a hundred were running through Valerius’s mind, but they were questions he had to ask himself, not the governor. They would have to wait.
The conference broke up with Mucianus still eyeing Valerius suspiciously, but as the other legates left Collega approached to shake the wooden hand and wish him luck.
‘Until I saw the hand I had not realized you were the same Verrens. You served with my brother Marcus in the Twentieth and he spoke highly of you.’
Valerius thanked him. ‘You were right to speak out.’
‘And you, though I doubt you made yourself popular among the governor’s inner circle. They are very protective of his reputation, which is a fine one. Perhaps …’
‘Yes?’
‘I may have done him an injustice. I have not served with him as long as some, but I have seen him on campaign and I respect his reputation. He is a man who knows his own mind and once it is made up he is unlikely to change it. But if Corbulo believes he can win, it would take a brave man to think otherwise.’
As Collega left, the general called Valerius back to the table.
‘The first lesson a military commander learns is always to expect the
unexpected
. I must be seen to send Vespasian my most experienced cavalry leaders, therefore I must make do with what I have. You need not concern yourself with tactical considerations: the prefects of the cavalry units are veterans who know their business. Your job is to provide leadership and coordinate their actions with those of the infantry. Do not let me down.’ He tapped the map. ‘Rock and dust, chasm and cliff. It looks formidable, but we have been there before. We know the ground and we know the risks. Water for the men and fodder for the horses will be of vital importance, but I trust Niger to take care of that.’ He chewed his lip and his eye fixed on a single portion of the map. ‘The key is that we know the ground.’
Valerius waited for more than a minute in silence.
‘Sir?’
Corbulo’s grey eyes speared him. ‘One thing you must learn, tribune, is that I do not care to be plagued with details.’
Valerius cleared his throat. ‘I carry a personal message from General Vespasian … to be delivered in private.’
Corbulo went very still. ‘Then deliver it.’
‘He said: “Tell General Corbulo that whatever he decides I will support him”.’
The governor frowned, the lines on his cheeks and brow creating dark fissures. Clearly the message troubled him. ‘Those were his exact words?’
Valerius nodded.
Corbulo gave a sour smile. ‘More politics.’
Valerius turned to go, but a word from the general stopped him.
‘I have spoken to young Crescens. You were correct: an impressive soldier and of good family. You may tell him that he is to join the staff of the Tenth for the campaign ahead.’
Valerius left the room with his head spinning. He suddenly realized how far out of his depth he was. Taking a legion and its cavalry contingent on a four-day expedition into the Atlas Mountains was entirely different from leading ten thousand men into one of the most inhospitable places on earth. He had an incredible amount to do in the few short hours before they marched. Not only did he have to
organize
his own depleted equipment for a campaign that could take as long as two months, he had to find out what he could about the units which would be serving under him and the officers who commanded them. But where to start? He had a vision of a swarthy face. Niger would know. Niger seemed to know everything. Suddenly something occurred to him and he couldn’t help smiling at the brilliance of it. At a stroke Corbulo had thwarted any plans he might have made to carry out Paulinus’s investigation. The Army of the East’s overworked cavalry commander would be fortunate to have a spare minute for weeks to come.
On his way to consult Niger, he called at the slave quarters for Serpentius. ‘How are they treating you?’
‘I’ve been in worse billets,’ the Spaniard grunted. ‘They wanted me to clean out the stables, but after I told the overseer I only answered to you and I’d cut off his balls if he thought otherwise, they seemed to see reason.’
Valerius laughed. ‘You’ll have the chance to shovel dung another time. For the moment, I need you to put together the essentials for a two-month campaign in the mountains. We’ll be fried during the day, frozen during the night and the chances are some bearded Parthian will want
our
balls to take home as a present for his wife.’ He handed over the small wooden tablet which bore his seal of office. ‘From now on you are my freedman, not my slave. That means I can conscript you into the army and no one’s going to kill you for it, except the enemy. Take this to the
beneficiarius
and get yourself a uniform, weapons and armour. Then check with the cavalry out by the gate. Those veterans have been fighting Parthians for years and they’ll certainly have added a few modifications that will help stop an arrow. Oh, and remember to sign up to the funeral fund.’
Serpentius reached for the bronze plaque at his neck and untied it. It was the manumission Valerius had granted him after their near-fatal mission for Nero almost three years earlier. Not that the Emperor knew anything about it. His late wife Poppaea had been grateful enough to grease the wheels that would allow a gladiator his freedom. The Spaniard was as hard as the mountains that bred him and Valerius had
never
seen him show emotion, but there was a catch in his throat when he spoke.
‘I suppose no man is ever truly free, but I haven’t felt like a slave since that day on the Danuvius when the Dacians were chasing us with their skinning knives. I always knew there would be a time, though, and I suppose this is as good as any. When I was waiting to fight in the arena, I used to dream of this day, but I never really thought it would happen. I suppose …’
‘No.’ Valerius stopped him with a smile. ‘There’s no point in thanking someone who’s probably going to get you killed.’
Serpentius sniffed and brusquely changed the subject. ‘What about horses? Those spavined, bow-legged nags they gave us at the port won’t last a day where we’re going.’
‘I’m supposed to be in charge of a cavalry wing.’ Valerius shrugged. ‘We’ll be in trouble if they can’t provide their new commander with a decent horse.’
By now it was clear that the sense of suppressed excitement from the conference had infused the entire palace as word spread that the legions were on the move. He found Tiberius outside in the grounds. The young man was talking to a senior officer in the shadow of a grove of carob trees, but by the time Valerius reached him the other man had disappeared.
‘My apologies, Tiberius. The general wanted me to tell you myself, but I see you already know.’
Tiberius looked up sharply, but relaxed when he recognized Valerius. ‘I would not have this posting if it hadn’t been for you, tribune. They tell me that the Tenth will soon be on the move. Judaea, I expect, with General Vespasian and Titus?’
Serpentius gave him a wry smile of congratulation and Valerius drew the young man aside. ‘You are not going to Judaea, Tiberius,’ he said quietly. ‘The Tenth will be moving northeast, into Armenia. We have information that a Parthian army is on the march and General Corbulo intends to intercept it. There will be a battle.’