“Hold them steady,” he called out to the centurion. “Don’t move.” But it was useless. Without taking any notice of him, the centurion and his force were already advancing with deadly efficiency towards the natives.
“These are not my orders,” he shouted.
“They’re the governor’s orders,” returned the centurion. And as he watched, the disciplined troops began to cut down the terrified people in the little settlement, while Porteus watched helplessly.
In an hour, it was all over. They had collected ten wagons of grain, fifty cattle, and the settlement was a smouldering ruin. The chief had been caught and butchered, his shrine completely destroyed.
“A good day’s work,” the centurion remarked with a grin. “Where to next, Caius Porteus?”
Porteus said nothing.
In the brief report of this incident that he delivered personally to the governor when they returned to Camulodunum, he said only that there had been resistance to the payment of taxes and that accordingly the settlement had been punished. He also recommended a new tax assessment for the surrounding country. Suetonius received the report casually.
“Quite right,” he commented.
But as Porteus was leaving, the governor gave him a quiet, shrewd look and said:
“No centurion will risk his men in a place like that. No honour in being killed by native women. Don’t hesitate next time, Caius Porteus. This province has got to be tamed.”
But if the governor thought that this was the end of the matter, he was wrong. The butchering of the natives, whose only crime had been poverty, the sense that he was now actively engaged in a brutal policy which he knew would fail, preyed increasingly on Porteus’s mind. All over the province, he knew, other troops were performing similar cruel and useless acts of repression, and the thought of it sickened him.
The islanders hate us more every day, he thought and it is only a matter of time before there is another rebellion, another Boudicca. Will there be another Suetonius then, too, or will the entire Roman population be cut to pieces?
He could no longer close his mind to what was being done, but what could he do about it? Should he resign his position and go back to Rome? That would probably end his career. Should he write to Graccus, or some other powerful figure to warn them of the tragic mistakes that were being made? That would be disloyal. In the end, he concluded that there was only one proper course of action, which was neither of these; but before taking it, he decided to consult Marcus, who had always taken a kindly interest in his affairs, and whose judgement he knew was excellent. He believed he could trust him.
He explained his dilemma to him at length, and Marcus listened attentively.
“I must be loyal to the governor,” he concluded, “but the whole policy is a terrible mistake, and I can’t stand by and say nothing.” He frowned. “If he sent me out to destroy another settlement like last time . . .” he made a gesture of despair. “I couldn’t.”
“What do you want to do then?” Marcus asked him.
“I think I should go direct to the governor,” Porteus replied, “and make my complaint to him.”
Marcus nodded slowly. It was obvious that young Porteus was determined to make a fool of himself: the question was, should he try to stop him? And on this point Marcus Marcellinus now faced a difficult moral dilemma of his own: did he want his young friend to continue his successful career, or did he want him to take a foolish step which, knowing the temper of the governor, would almost certainly ruin his prospects? He was not sure. For that very morning he had received a long letter from his aunt in Rome, and as a result of what she had told him, his own motives where Porteus was concerned were now mixed. He thought carefully, not liking the choice, and being wise he temporised.
“If you do as you say, the consequences could be serious for you,” he said carefully.
“Perhaps, but what else can I do?”
Marcus looked at the young man with pity. He liked young Porteus, and he could not help frankly admiring his honesty and his courage. But . . . He shrugged. After all, he knew, each man must look out for himself.
“You do what you think is right, Porteus,” he said gravely. “You are a man of honour – and a brave man too,” he added.
It was enough. Porteus thanked him gratefully and went back to his quarters. His mind was now at rest, and Marcus’s words – a man of honour – were still ringing in his ears as he sat down to prepare what he must say to Suetonius.
It was his great misfortune that at this most critical moment of his life, he did not possess a highly important piece of information.
For the entire matter of the governor’s mistreatment of the new province had already been taken up by hands which were far stronger than his. After a careful inspection of the province’s affairs, the new procurator, Classicianus had been appalled by the destruction of the island’s wealth.
“If we go on like this,” he judged, “we shall be lucky to raise any taxes at all in a few years. This oppression must stop at once.”
He had exercised his official right to send his own independent report to Rome – a document far more damning of the governor than anything Porteus had dreamed of.
Such reports were not unusual, for it was the policy of the empire to encourage the financial and military authorities to watch each other jealously: every major official was spied upon in this way, and this was how the bureaucrats in Rome could control their far-flung empire with such efficiency. When Nero received the adverse report he was furious. But there was nothing that even the emperor himself could do about it without upsetting the whole administrative machine, and unbalanced though he often was, Nero knew the value of Rome’s huge system of checks and balances. Favourites or no favourites, a commission of inquiry would have to be sent from Rome to investigate Suetonius’s administration of the province – that was the only correct procedure.
Private word of the adverse report reached the governor early, before it was known in the province or even leaked to his staff. And it was on the very morning when he received the news that young Porteus requested his interview.
Suetonius was in a rage – a towering rage. He had nearly refused to see Porteus, but supposing it was some minor routine matter that could be easily disposed of, he had him sent in. The young man entered smartly, his clear expression giving no hint that he was about to touch off an explosion.
“Well Porteus, be quick about it,” he muttered testily.
And so Porteus stood to attention, squared his shoulders, and began.
He had worked hard to prepare his speech. It was well thought out, carefully argued, respectfully submitted; it contained exact instances of why he thought the policy of revenge was a mistake, and made practical suggestions for a new and more conciliatory policy; it was in every way an excellent speech, of which Porteus could rightfully be proud – and it contained not one word that the governor wished to hear. As Porteus went on, the general’s anger turned to fury; but not a muscle in his red face moved as he listened.
Porteus had no idea of this. Even if he doesn’t agree, he thought, he must be impressed with my case. And when he had finished he waited confidently for the governor’s response.
Suetonius was completely silent for some time, his eyes resting impassively on this impudent young man who had just challenged him. First it had been the procurator starting a campaign against him – a shameful and outrageous campaign, but one that was at least recognised within the imperial system. And now he had discovered that there was a traitor in his own staff. For that was, unquestionably, what this young man that Graccus had wished on him had turned out to be – a disloyal troublemaker. From his long years of experience the governor knew exactly how to deal with traitors: they must be neutralised and destroyed with a single, sudden blow – and it must be a blow that they could not see coming. So his face remained a perfect mask as he considered the matter; and certain things were clear to him at once: Porteus must not be allowed to give his views to any commission of inquiry; nor must he be able to spread discord amongst the other members of the staff; nor would it do to send him back to Rome either, where he might stir up trouble with Graccus. No, something different was needed, and before long he could see clearly what it was. Without doubt he would deal with this young man. At last he spoke,
“Thank you for your valuable advice, which has been noted.” He gave Porteus a polite incline of the head, and then dismissed him coolly. It was a danger signal which Porteus completely missed, and afterwards he confided to Marcus:
“I think I impressed him.”
The blow fell the next day.
It was a note from the governor’s office, which Marcus delivered to his quarters in the early afternoon. The note was short:
C. Porteus Maximus is transferred to the staff of the procurator.
Porteus was puzzled. What did this mean?
“Do you know about this?” he asked Marcus.
But Marcus shook his head.
“Perhaps they think you should have experience of finance; it could be a good sign,” he suggested doubtfully.
“There’s another note too,” he went on.
This was from the secretary to the procurator, in Londinium.
You are appointed as assistant to the junior procurator. Your first post will be at Sorviodunum. Proceed to this office for instructions at once.
Assistant to the junior procurator! It was a minor clerical post. And Sorviodunum! He had never been to the place but he knew it was nothing more than a staging post at a crossroads – miles from anywhere: a complete backwater.
As he gazed at the two impersonal documents, he realised with a cold horror what they meant – and knew that there was nothing he could do about it.
Suetonius’s solution to the problem of Porteus was simple, and perfect. By transferring him to the procurator’s office, he removed him completely from his own staff and put him in the enemy camp where he belonged. Even if his views were ever heard, it would be assumed that anything he said was because either he wished to please the procurator, or to revenge himself on the governor for dismissing him from his staff. And by sending an urgent message to Londinium, recommending that the young man would be ideally suited to a junior post in a backwater, Suetonius had ensured that the commission of inquiry was unlikely ever to see him at all. He had to go there, or be guilty of disobeying orders. There was nothing, nothing that he could do. It was a trap that had already closed. Without fully understanding all that had happened, Porteus could see that he had been neutralised.
“What can I do?” he asked Marcus; and for once his friend was at a loss. “I’m finished,” the young man said sadly.
He could see the consequences quite clearly. Graccus would say that he had failed; he would lose Lydia; his parents would be disgraced. Was there some way out? He could not see it.
But why had Suetonius turned on him so violently? He shook his head. He was still ignorant of the procurator’s report.
Marcus did not know either.
“It looks as if Suetonius didn’t like what you said,” he muttered.
Out of consideration, Marcus sat with him for some time, though neither man spoke much.
“I have a posting too,” Marcus said at last. “I am to go to Rome for a year and I’m leaving in two days. I’m sorry, young Porteus, to be leaving you like this; but perhaps something will turn up.” He gave him an encouraging smile. It was easy for him, Porteus thought: he was a success.
“Let me know if I can do anything for you,” Marcus said as he left.
For the rest of the day Porteus prepared to leave. Several times he wondered whether to appeal to Suetonius, but common sense told him that this was a waste of time. Instead he put his affairs in order and wrote a long letter to Lydia, asking her to wait for him while he tried to rescue his career. It was a brave letter:
I still hope to recover and to return from this province with honour. Marcus will give you news of me.
This he gave to Marcus, with a request that he would take it to the house of Graccus when he reached Rome.
“Hand this to Lydia,” he begged. “Give her a good report of me, and tell her father that I have conducted myself with honour. I have no one else I can trust but you.”
Marcus took the letter with a trace of embarrassment.
“I shall do what I can,” he promised, “but don’t hope for too much, Porteus.” And with that the two men parted.
That evening Porteus made one attempt to take leave of the governor, but Suetonius would not see him, and so as dusk fell, there was nothing for him to do but to ride slowly and sadly down the long road to Londinium.
At the port of Londinium his last hopes were dashed. Perhaps, he had thought, I can at least make a good impression on the procurator and he will speak for me in Rome. But at the procurator’s headquarters he found that Classicianus was absent in the north and would not return for weeks.