Authors: Douglas Jackson
‘I have decided.’ Titus Flavius Sabinus appeared without warning from amongst his apple trees, where he’d watched the whole contest. He looked down at his nephew with a disgusted shake of the head and turned to Valerius. ‘I will meet Vitellius.’
Marcus Antonius Primus looked out over the plain towards the hilltop fortress of Narnia that was the last major obstacle between his army and Rome. He could see the banner of the Praetorian Guard whipping in the breeze over the well-defended entrenchments, and what must be ten thousand spear points glittering in the morning sunlight. He sniffed the air, enjoying the invigorating damp grass scent that followed a rain shower, and the haunting cry of a buzzard made him shiver.
He shrugged off the moment and turned in the saddle to study the massed ranks of his legions. Five now, because he’d decided that with no sign of Mucianus it was safe to bring up the cohorts he’d left at Verona. More than enough to crush Narnia, but they’d suffer casualties, perhaps heavy casualties. He imagined his soldiers marching in open order into the teeth of the Guard’s
ballistae
and
onagri
fire. No, it would not do.
‘What was their latest position?’ The question was directed at the young aide who had gone out earlier to negotiate with the Vitellian commander.
‘That Vespasian is a usurper and Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus is the rightful Emperor, as declared by the Senate and people of Rome.’ The tribune prudently neglected to include the filthy insults that had been hurled at Vespasian and his legate. ‘They are his Praetorian Guard and they will fight to the death for him.’
‘You took the prisoner to tell him about the defeat at Cremona? Their commander understands that he is alone now?’
‘Yes,’ the aide said. ‘The legate of the Fifth Alaudae. He was most forthright.’
‘Their reaction?’
‘I … I think they were quite shaken, sir. But they said that General Valens is already on the march from Gallia Narbonnensis and that Emperor Vitellius will prevail.’
Primus sighed. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
‘Arrange another meeting at the fourth hour. Tell them that I wish to meet personally with their commander.’ He turned his mount and rode off to his headquarters pavilion.
An hour later Primus waited between the two armies as the Praetorian commander galloped out with his escort. There was no need of an introduction: Primus had served in the same Senate as Julius Sempronius. Sempronius completed the last few horse lengths alone and Primus nodded a welcome to the grim-faced Praetorian in the dark tunic and sculpted silver breastplate. ‘I salute your courage and your resilience, prefect,’ he said. ‘But I hope you will consider this final opportunity to allow your men to surrender with honour, and to march out with their arms and banners without fear of reprisal.’
The Praetorian prefect took less than a heartbeat to consider the offer. ‘The honour of the Guard can only be satisfied by my continued resistance, general. Aulus Vitellius …’
‘I understand that you are expecting reinforcements from the north?’ Primus interrupted the traditional defiant platitudes.
Sempronius frowned. ‘It is no secret that Valens is on the way with the legions of Germania and Gaul.’
Primus nodded thoughtfully. He turned and waved the young aide forward. Sempronius looked at what he was carrying and his eyes widened. ‘I …’
‘General Gaius Fabius Valens, an honourable man, and a brave soldier, would correct your assumptions if only he were able.’ Primus spoke courteously, but with a coldness that made Sempronius hesitate as the aide handed over the leather water bucket. The Praetorian glanced at the contents and Primus saw his face turn a sickly grey, all the belligerence driven from him in a single shocking instant. ‘Unfortunately, as you see, General Valens has already made the ultimate sacrifice for Rome and his Emperor.’
‘You will allow me to consult with my officers, general?’
Primus nodded his agreement and the Praetorian turned his horse and returned to where his escort waited out of hearing distance. He returned moments later after a short conversation with his aides. ‘I will need an hour.’
‘Of course, prefect.’ Marcus Antonius Primus kept his face solemn so as not to add to the other man’s humiliation, but inside his heart was soaring.
The road to Rome was open.
Olivia’s eyes opened with a snap as she felt a hand shaking her shoulder. Instantly awake, she could have cried out with relief when she recognized Lupergos. He would normally have been sharing her bed, but tonight had been on watch in one of the mini-forts out by the road. Her relief was short-lived.
‘They’re coming.’ Urgency made his voice shake. ‘Armed men on the road and in the trees.’ Olivia tried to still a surge of fear. They had been expecting an attack down the road, but this meant that their carefully prepared defences had been outflanked. Lupergos squeezed her hand in reassurance. There was no time to dwell on what ifs. ‘Here, take this.’ As she slipped into her sandals, he wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and handed her a leather sack containing food and water. ‘We will try to stop them,’ he held her to his body and the strength of it made her want to cry out, ‘but at the very least we will buy you time. Granta and Cronus are waiting.’
She could have argued. She was his woman. This was his child inside her. He should stay with her. But the courage and certainty in his voice left the words unsaid. Instead, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘May Christus be with you,’ she said quietly. But he was gone.
The sight of her father’s ancient freedmen attempting to look warlike might have seemed comical but for the determination on their faces. She nodded gravely and followed them from the villa. Led by two young slaves armed with bows they made their way through the gardens and up into the olive groves behind. The caves Lupergos had provisioned were at the bottom of the south slope by the river. Olivia had planned to take the well-worn path, but if the raiders had come through the trees they were just as likely to approach the house from that direction too. Better to stay under cover in the grove. After the recent rains the ground was treacherously slippery and the going slow. Before they’d travelled two hundred paces they heard confused shouts, barked commands and then the first screams. A moment later one of the barns burst into flame and the earth beneath the olives was transformed into a confusion of unearthly shadows. More screams of mortal agony followed and she flinched because they were much closer now. The two slaves exchanged a glance and without a word dropped their bows and ran off up the hill. Granta and Cronus seemed paralysed by the desertions and she slipped past them.
‘Come,’ she said crossly when they still didn’t move. ‘Enough of this foolishness.’ Granta shot her a look of embarrassment and took the lead, the spear held threateningly in front of him.
Soon the bulky shoulder of the hill sheltered them from the direct light of the flames, but a dull glow allowed them to keep their bearings. Granta increased his pace only to freeze a moment later. As Olivia watched, the old man sank slowly back to merge with one of the olive trunks. Hardly daring to breathe, she and Cronus silently emulated the movement. Three rows of trees separated Olivia from Cronus and a shadowy figure ran between them, only to be catapulted forward with a terrible shriek. Olivia pushed her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. A second figure appeared and hauled a spear from between his squirming victim’s shoulder blades. The dark silhouette straightened and the head swivelled to study the darkness. Whatever he sensed must have satisfied him because when she looked again he was gone. Granta waved them forward, but Olivia’s legs would barely carry her.
A sudden image of Valerius gave her renewed strength.
Lupergos knows what to do
, he had said.
Keep yourself safe, stay calm and he will join you. If you become separated just follow the contour of the hill until you hear the river. The caves are at the bottom of the slope to your left. Stay quiet and do not move, no matter what you hear.
Granta halted so abruptly that Olivia almost walked into his back. It was a moment before she heard the sound of stealthy movement all around them. The whites of Granta’s eyes shone like ivory as he turned to face the threat. Cronus would be doing the same behind her. Oddly, she felt very calm as she slipped the knife from its sheath. Whoever was making the sounds began to close in and she placed the point firmly against her breast. Her only regret was for the unborn child in her womb. She began to pray, the words soft as the wind whispering through the trees. ‘Our father …’
A stocky figure holding a sword stepped from the shadows.
Could it have been an hour already? Valerius fought to still his nerves as he waited in the bright sunlight outside the temple walls. How many thousands of lives depended on what was decided just a few feet away? He consoled himself that he’d done everything he could to bring about this moment when sanity should prevail. Now it was up to the two men whose voices were a distant murmur. When the negotiations were completed the Emperor and Titus Flavius Sabinus would leave the precinct separately, along with their witnesses – Sabinus had chosen Cluvius Rufus, the former governor of Hispania. If Sabinus acceded to his demands, Vitellius would abdicate within two days and place himself under the city prefect’s protection. He winced at a stab of pain from his injured wrist. The wound had proved less serious than it felt at the time, but it still throbbed beneath the cloth bandage that one of Sabinus’s servants had applied.
If all went to plan Valerius was to take word of the agreement to Marcus Antonius Primus. He’d also carry a letter from Vitellius which, as his last act as Emperor, commanded the Praetorians to lay down their arms and allow Primus to pass. Yet everything depended on whether two men who despised and distrusted each other could come to an accord.
Nearby, Serpentius kicked moodily at the stony ground and studied the gilded ivory relief on the rightmost of the big double doors. It showed a battle scene full of sword-wielding soldiers in armour and strange helmets, carving the arms and heads from cowering naked barbarians. ‘What did you say this was again?’
‘I told you. The Celts took the Greek shrine at Delphi and the Greeks didn’t like it, so they marched up the mountain and slaughtered them.’
‘No need to be so testy,’ the Spaniard muttered, squinting and studying it more closely. ‘They don’t look like any of the Celts I killed in the old Taurus.’
‘It happened four hundred years ago and the sculptor had probably never seen a Celt, or a Greek for that matter.’ The doors creaked and began to swing open. At last …
Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus needed the help of his companion to descend the creamy marble steps, but he moved with surprising speed between the statues flanking the temple precinct. Valerius cursed under his breath as his old friend approached the gate. Vitellius’s face glowed pink beneath the chalky mask of his make-up and the deep-set eyes glittered. His gait and every sinew of his obese body signalled suppressed fury. Failure.
By the time he reached Valerius the Emperor was struggling for breath, though whether through his exertions or anger wasn’t clear. His first words confirmed Valerius’s estimate of his temper.
‘How am I to trust a man so ruled by his fears? He had the insolence to accuse me of trying to have him killed, this … this … renegade whose assassins have stalked my every footstep since I first donned the purple. A man who lives only through my benevolence.’
‘The terms?’ Valerius walked by his side to where the specially reinforced chair and its six mute Nubian bearers waited.
Vitellius stopped abruptly and turned to him, nostrils flaring. ‘Not even half, and that so meagre in detail and so reluctantly furnished as to be worthless. He gives me numbers, which are far below my own estimates, and dispositions which are as unlikely as they are unmilitary. If he is to be believed he can barely protect himself, never mind my family. No list of senatorial supporters, so I can gauge the true worth of his support, and thereby the likelihood of the people following them. No token of his esteem that might show proof of his goodwill.’
Valerius closed his eyes. It was worse than he had feared. Sabinus had probably told the truth about the numbers, but Vitellius’s fears had exaggerated them for so long the reality could never match his expectations. Valerius understood the ways of spies; knew how they indulged their masters’ fantasies by providing them with what they wanted to hear. He cursed Sabinus for his parsimony – a fine diamond brooch for Galeria and a colt for Lucius might have changed the tone entirely – and for his veracity, a poor trait in a negotiator with so little to offer. Yet surely there could still be hope?
Vitellius’s guards formed up around the litter and Valerius had to push his way through as the bearers set off towards the Clivus Palatinus. ‘The names mean nothing,’ he said urgently as he trotted alongside, the rhythm of his feet over the cobbles making his words sound disjointed. ‘You cannot expect Sabinus to present you with the heads of his friends on a silver platter. He is protecting them – you would do the same. In any case, if you are the man I think you are, you already know every senator who supports him, especially the ones who claim not to.’ The golden curtain twitched and he gave thanks he had the other man’s attention. ‘Give me two days and I will track down every cohort and century Sabinus commands. I will give you their true capabilities, the strengths of their commanders and their present dispositions. If I can do that, and convince you of Sabinus’s sincerity, will you agree to another meeting?’ The curtain twitched again, but otherwise there was no response. As the chair reached the top of the slope Valerius made one final attempt at reason. ‘Do not let your anger rule you as his fear does him, Aulus. There is no other way. I have seen these streets flowing with blood once before. Do not let history say that is Aulus Vitellius’s legacy.’
A sharp word of command brought the bearers to a halt. The curtains drew back and he found himself face to face with the Emperor. ‘Very well.’ Vitellius glared. ‘If you can satisfy me that Sabinus is truthful and sincere, I will meet him again. Report to me when your investigation is complete.’