Avenger of Rome

XXII

‘General Gaius Licinius Mucianus, legate of Sixth Ferrata.’ Corbulo introduced the handsome aristocrat who had insulted Valerius on the balcony. The sneer remained in place and the long nose twitched as if it had smelled something distasteful. ‘Marcus Ulpius Traianus, Tenth Fretensis.’ Traianus was younger than his fellow commander, fine-boned and heavy-lipped with piercing blue eyes. ‘Aurelius Fulvus, commanding Third Gallica, and Gaius Pompeius Collega, Fifteenth Apollinaris.’ The two men nodded and Collega, who had not been at the earlier conference, gave Valerius an uneasy smile of welcome. Only one other man remained in the room after Corbulo’s aides had set out an enormous table with a series of overlapping maps, and the general presented him warmly as his camp prefect and quartermaster, Casperius Niger. Niger had dark hair shot with grey and the swarthy complexion and uncompromising features of a native easterner, but he was clearly one of Corbulo’s most trusted members of staff.

Tension filled the room like a fog, mixed with that peculiar suppressed excitement and anticipation Valerius remembered from the conference where the Colonia militia had received their orders for the defence against Boudicca.

Corbulo stood hunched over the table, his eyes taking in every detail of the maps. This was ground he had covered many times, but he understood the traps and pitfalls that awaited him among the treacherous river valleys and the barren mountains, the dusty plains and featureless deserts. His commanders knew the situation well enough, but General Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo was Rome’s greatest general because he considered every detail and his watchword was preparation. The first few minutes were a mirror of the summary Valerius had received from Vespasian. The situation in Judaea was worsening, the rebel strength and confidence increasing with every day the Romans failed to avenge the defeats suffered by Vespasian’s predecessors.

‘General Vespasian has almost completed his preparations in Egypt and he will begin shipping his main force to Ptolemais, here on the Judaean border, north of Galilee where the largest concentration of rebel forces is believed to be, while his cavalry carries out diversionary operations in the area between Ashkelon and the Dead Sea.’ Valerius nodded. That explained Titus’s mission into the desert. Corbulo’s voice changed and Valerius caught a hint of irritation. ‘I have orders to consolidate my position in Syria, while giving as much support as can be spared to Vespasian. To this end Sixth Ferrata, Third Gallica and their associated auxiliary units will march south from their positions at Zeugma and Cyrrhus to prepare defensive positions and stockpile supplies for sixty thousand men.’

Mucianus frowned. ‘It will take all our reserves and I will have to strip every town and village between Antioch and Damascus.’

Corbulo fixed him with that steady gaze. ‘Nevertheless it must be done. I have already sent to Sergiopolis and Palmyra to have their stores of grain, oil and wine moved to Damascus. I see no reason why it should not be waiting for you when you arrive there. Any shortfall will be made up by a special requisition from Cappadocia and Egypt.’

‘If we withdraw entirely from Zeugma and Cyrrhus it will leave the main crossing of the Euphrates undefended and the road to Antioch open,’ Collega pointed out. ‘If you are wrong, the Parthians will be able to outflank our eastern defence line and Syria will be at their mercy.’

The other three legates looked at him and Valerius realized this was what they had been discussing during the afternoon.

Corbulo ushered his commanders closer around the map and motioned to Valerius to join them.

‘I have recently received word from our spies in Parthia that King Vologases has sent out a call to raise a force of seventy thousand men — heavy cavalry, slingers, spearmen and mounted archers — and is preparing to march north from his capital on the Tigris,’ he said solemnly. ‘There can be only one reason for this. He means to take advantage of the rebellion in Judaea and the fact of his brother’s absence from Armenia to retake control of that country. I cannot allow that.’

Again the four turned to their general, three of them nodding, but Collega’s broad face showed consternation. ‘Without two of your four legions and with explicit orders from the Palatium in Rome to consolidate your position I do not understand how you intend to stop him.’

Corbulo gave him a look teachers reserve for their slowest pupils, but Collega stood his ground and returned the stare.

‘It is late in the season and he must move quickly if he is to force the mountain passes before the first snows,’ the governor explained patiently. ‘He cannot delay because he knows that Tiridates will return in the spring carrying Rome’s blessing. The Armenian council will unite behind their king and the opportunity will be gone. The last report from our agents shows him still in Ctesiphon.’ Corbulo used a centurion’s vine rod to indicate a position in the centre of the map table close to a winding blue line Valerius calculated must be the Tigris river. ‘Which means that even if he has already marched he cannot be any further than this position today.’ The tip of the vine rod moved north. ‘I think there is no doubt that he intends to reconquer the land his brother has negotiated away by first taking Tigranocerta, the fortress city which guards the only road north, and then turning northeast by the Sea of Van to reach the capital Artaxata. This is how I will stop him.’ He used the vine rod as a measure to indicate the distance between Antioch and Tigranocerta, then between Vologases’ army and the city. When it was done his face broke into a savage grin that revealed Corbulo the warrior. ‘We will have at least six days’ march on him. I intend to consolidate my position by garrisoning the fort at Zeugma and the Euphrates crossing with a vexillation of three cohorts from the Fifteenth Apollinaris and a mixed cavalry and infantry force of Cappadocian auxiliaries. Then I will march the Tenth Fretensis and the bulk of the Fifteenth to… here, north of Gazarta, where I will intercept my enemy and defeat him.’ He looked around the room, the pale eyes daring any man to contradict him.

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.’

Tiberius looked puzzled and his eyes went cold. Was it possible that the young man was frightened? It seemed unlikely, but it was conceivable. No matter how proficient a soldier was with his weapons, the thought of his first real battle was enough to turn the veins to ice water. But the expression only lasted a heartbeat before the young tribune recovered and his face broke into a grin.

‘So, I am to be blooded at last. I have waited for so long. It could only be better if you were able to fight by my side.’

Valerius heard a whisper in his head. He had a momentary vision of the younger tribune with blood on his face, but he kept his smile steady.

‘I will ask the general, Tiberius.’ He exchanged glances with Serpentius. ‘Who knows what can be arranged.’