Rome’s Fallen Eagle

CHAPTER XIV

‘Are you quite certain of this?’ Aulus Plautius demanded of two Gallic traders standing nervously before him in his briefing room, now awash with flickering oil lamps.

‘Yes, general,’ the elder of the two replied, ‘my son and I heard the news yesterday. We sailed from Britannia at first light this morning; they had begun to muster in the lands of the Cantiaci in the south-eastern corner of the island.’

‘I know where the Cantiaci live,’ Plautius snapped; his temper had not been helped by this news. ‘How many tribes?’

‘The Catuvellauni and all the tribes under their rule.’

‘Who commands them?’

‘Caradoc, or Caratacus as you Romans call him, and his brother Togodumnus of the Catuv-’

‘I know which tribe they’re from!’ Plautius tossed a chinking purse at the older man. ‘You may go.’ The traders bowed and hurried out of the room as he turned to a huge long-haired man in his early thirties, with a ruddy complexion and a long, drooping moustache. ‘How many men do you think, Adminios?’

The Briton answered immediately. ‘If both my brothers are there then that would mean the Trinovantes, the Atrebates, the Regni confederation and the Cantiaci confederation at least; and then possibly the Dobunni and Belge from further west. That’s a force of at least one hundred thousand warriors, possibly more, facing us on the beach. And I can assure you they will be waiting; it’s their best chance of defeating us.’

‘Not all the Atrebates and Regni confederation,’ an elderly Briton, with greying hair and black moustache in the same style, interposed.

Plautius ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. ‘What makes you say that, Verica?’

‘My nephew, the King of Vectis, hates Caratacus; his sub-tribe won’t be joining the army. Nor will all of my people, the Regni.’

‘Even so, that’s still going to be many more than faced Caesar and he had a hard enough time of it.’ Plautius looked over to his legates seated on his right. ‘Well, gentlemen, it seems that they have found out that we’re coming early; the question is what do we do about it?’ He could not disguise his alarm.

Vespasian glanced at his three colleagues, none of whom looked as if they were about to come up with an idea. ‘We need to delay; a force that size can’t live off the land for very long at this time of year. They’ll have to disband soon.’

‘I agree, Vespasian; that’s the obvious thing to do, but politically it’s impossible. I can see myself facing a treason charge if we leave harbour so much as an hour late. We have to go in two days’ time, which means that we start embarking the troops tomorrow.’

‘Change where we land, then,’ Sabinus suggested.

‘That’s what I’m considering. Tribune Alienus, the large map.’ Plautius stood and walked to his map table; his legates joined him. A young thin-stripe tribune unrolled a map showing the south and east coasts of Britannia and the Gallic coastline closest to the island. Plautius pointed to Gesoriacum and then to a point just northeast of the nearest part of the Britannic coast. ‘I planned to land here, just as Caesar did, for three reasons: first because I didn’t want to risk a longer voyage than necessary, second because we have Caesar’s record of the landing place and these fucking tides that they’re so fond of up here, and third it’s the shortest crossing for our line of supply. From here I planned to cut up north to the Cantiaci’s main town and restore Adminios to his throne.’ He traced his finger up to a town just inland from an island on the eastern tip of Britannia. ‘At the same time the fleet would take control of the channel between this island, Tanatis, and the mainland giving it access to the Tamesis estuary and the mainland. I would also send a secondary force south to secure the small natural harbour under the white cliffs here.’ He pointed to the closest part of Britannia to Gaul. ‘With our rear secure and a pro-Roman administration in place along our supply lines, we would force-march the thirty miles from the Cantiaci town, or Cantiacum as I shall now refer to it, along the estuary, keeping to the north of this range of hills to shield our flank, to seize the only bridge over this river, the Afon Cantiacii, which flows into the Tamesis estuary here. This route has two major advantages: we can receive support and supplies from our fleet in the estuary and we can take advantage of the hills, which Adminios tells me are only partially wooded, for feeding our animals.’ Plautius traced his finger along a line almost parallel with the estuary. ‘From here I would head west until this ford on the Tamesis, here, cross into Catuvellauni lands and then push east to their capital, the Fort of Camulos, so named after their patron god of war.’

‘What happens if the Britons destroy the bridge before we get to it?’ Vespasian asked, looking at the river that seemed to be the only major obstacle before the Tamesis ford.

‘In all likelihood they would and will try to hold the river against us; in fact that’s what I expect them to do. But we’ll probably have to fight them crossing the Tamesis so it’s no bad thing to give the lads a bit of practice with this river first.’

‘And we’ve got eight infantry cohorts and one cavalry ala of Batavians; I’ve seen them cross rivers, it’s not a problem for them. We should play to our strengths, sir.’

‘Oh, we will; we’ll bring light boats in the baggage train to bridge the river, they won’t expect that. But all this is going to have to change now if we’ve got a hundred thousand hairy-arsed savages covered in that hideous blue-green clay waiting for us on the beach, with bags full of slingshot and an unwelcoming demeanour.’

‘Why not land near the Fort of Camulos itself,’ Corvinus suggested, with a look in his eye that immediately confirmed to Vespasian that Narcissus’ theory had some foundation.

‘I can’t take that without the Emperor.’

‘Then land well to the north of it in the lands of the Parisi, with whom we have a peace treaty,’ Sabinus said, pointing to an area well to the north on the east coast, ‘and come down the coast; it all has to be conquered at some point.’

‘That would be military madness, legate, putting our forces at the end of such a long sea route supply line; only a woman would think that feasible.’

Sabinus tensed at the insult.

‘I apologise, Sabinus, that was unworthy of me; all possibilities should be discussed.’

Sabinus relaxed and raised his hand in acceptance of the apology; Corvinus, next to him, smirked.

‘What if we should land further west?’ Geta suggested, putting his finger on an island along the south coast. ‘The channel between Vectis and the mainland would protect the fleet; or there’s this natural harbour just east of it, which I believe is Verica’s capital, so we may get a friendly welcome.’

Verica inclined his head in agreement. ‘From my people, the Regni, you would, but they are just one sub-tribe of the Atrebates; you would have to fight your way north and before you did so you would have to defeat my nephew on Vectis.’

Plautius shook his head. ‘And on the way north we wouldn’t be able to receive support from the fleet. We’d have an overland supply line over seventy miles long by the time we got to the Tamesis and we would be open to attack from east and west as we went north; it’s too risky. One reverse and we could be cut off and humiliated. So, bearing in mind that only a fool would split his forces in such hostile country before a decisive victory, we have to work out a way of landing the whole force in the southeast.’

Vespasian cleared his throat and pointed at the channel between Tanatis on the extreme eastern tip of Britannia and the mainland. ‘Then do your original plan backwards, sir. Land here behind them and then come south and take them in the rear. We’re going to have to fight them at some point so if they’re going to oblige us by putting all their men in one place I think we should take advantage of it.’

‘What are the beaches like here, Adminios?’

‘Good for our purpose.’ He pointed to a promontory on the mainland. ‘We call this place “Rhudd yr epis” or “horse ford” in Latin. It’s a gently rising beach protected by the island and from it there’s a good trackway for all of the ten miles to the Cantiaci town.’

‘So we would need to land a force on Tanatis first to take that before the main body lands at this Rutupis, or whatever it’s called, secures the bridgehead and then moves on to the town. Once we have that we turn south and deal with your troublesome brothers. Will they fight us or try to run to ground of their choosing?’

‘They’ll fight, they’ll have no option. They can’t run west because of the great oak forest. No one lives there; an army that size would find it impenetrable, so they’ll have to fight us either to defeat us or get round us.’

Plautius stared at the map for a few moments. ‘Yes, that idea has merit, although no matter how effectively we do the job a goodly amount of them will escape. I’ll leave Sentius with a small secondary force down where we would have landed to secure the supply line and press on northwest with the main force following the remnants of the Britons’ army. They’ll have no option but to cross the bridge and destroy it and try to hold the river against us; that will be a bloody day. Then, whatever’s left of them will fall back across the Tamesis.’ Plautius ruminated for a while weighing the matter in his mind. ‘Yes, this would work and we could be across the Tamesis within a month and a half of landing, having destroyed this Britannic force in three battles.’

‘And then we sit there with our thumbs up our arses for three months, waiting for my brother-in-law, whilst the Britons muster another army?’ Corvinus asked, giving Plautius a questioning look.

‘Legate, I would remind you that your brother-in-law is our Emperor and if those are his orders then I have to obey them.’

‘They’re not his orders; they came from that jumped-up freedman of his and you know it … sir.’

‘It makes no difference; he spoke with the Emperor’s authority.’

‘We could have the whole of the southeast under our control by the end of June!’

‘Do not raise your voice to me, legate; argue any more and, by the gods of my household, I’ll remove you from your command and write to your precious brother-in-law telling him that I suspect you of treason.’

‘I’m sure my colleague was just expressing the frustration that we all feel at the delay,’ Vespasian put in quickly, earning a confused glare from Corvinus. ‘And I’m sure that he understands, as well as any of us, the political necessity behind that delay.’

Plautius grunted. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Vespasian; it is very frustrating for all of us but that’s how it is. It won’t do to have discord amongst us so we’ll say no more about it, will we, Corvinus?’

Corvinus jutted his jaw out but then clearly thought better of continuing the argument. ‘No, sir.’

‘Good. The supply ships have all been loaded and moved out of the harbour. We begin the embarkation of the army at midday tomorrow; the men will spend the night on the ships and then we’ll sail with the tide an hour after midnight. Any questions?’

The four legates shook their heads.

‘Have your legions and attached auxiliaries parade in full gear, and with seventeen days’ rations issued, in front of the camps at noon tomorrow. Dismiss, gentlemen.’

Vespasian saluted along with the other three legates and turned to march smartly out next to Sabinus; Corvinus followed with Geta.

‘What are you playing at, bumpkin?’ Corvinus drawled in Vespasian’s ear as a slave closed the reception room doors behind them. ‘I would have thought that it would delight you and your cuckolded brother to see Plautius try and remove me from my command.’

Sabinus spun around, grabbing Corvinus by the throat, slamming him against the corridor wall. ‘What did you call me?’

Corvinus brought his right arm cracking up onto Sabinus’, breaking his grip. ‘Just what you are.’

Vespasian grabbed his brother by the shoulders as Geta stepped in front of Corvinus. ‘Leave him, brother! Come away.’ Sabinus struggled for a few moments as Vespasian pulled him back.

Corvinus smirked over Geta’s shoulder. ‘The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’

Sabinus seethed. ‘I will have you one day, you arrogant cunt; I’ll bring you down.’

‘I find that most unlikely with my sister in the Emperor’s bed.’

‘She won’t be there forever, she-’

‘Sabinus!’ Vespasian shouted.

Corvinus scoffed. ‘And just who is going to drag her out? You?’ He abruptly stopped and then smiled knowingly. ‘Or Narcissus? Is that what he kept you behind to discuss the other day? Is that why your bumpkin brother supported me just now? That was quite out of character. Why else would you want me to remain in my command unless it was to give the impression that everything was normal? That oily Greek is moving against my sister and you two are part of it.’

‘Don’t be so stupid, Corvinus,’ Vespasian said, pushing his brother behind him. ‘Why would he do that? He has the Emperor’s best interests at heart.’

Corvinus raised both eyebrows. ‘Really? I suppose that’s true insofar as they coincide with his own; after that, I doubt it. Good evening, gentlemen; thank you for this little chat, it has been most enlightening.’ He walked away; Geta followed him with a scowl at the brothers.

Vespasian turned on Sabinus. ‘That was very-’

‘Don’t tell me, you little shit; I’m well aware of how stupid that was.’

Vespasian woke just before dawn to the sound of men striking camp. He felt Caenis’ warm body nestled in the crook of his arm and spent a few moments listening to her soft breathing, knowing that it would be a long time before they would share such intimacy again; that night would be spent aboard the ship waiting to take them to the savage island across the sea.

Nuzzling his face into her hair he breathed in her scent and kissed her tenderly before easing his arm out from under her and slipping out of bed.

‘Is it time to go, my love?’ Caenis asked sleepily as he fastened his loincloth.

‘My officers are reporting to me soon and then I’ll be busy the rest of the day getting my men aboard.’

‘Then we had better say goodbye now. Narcissus wants me to travel back to Rome, with his personal despatches for the Emperor, as soon as you have embarked.’

Vespasian sat back down on the bed and took her in his arms.

‘Will it be a very long time, Vespasian?’

‘At least two years, probably more.’

‘Little Domitilla will be three or four before she meets her father.’

‘That’s assuming that some clay-covered savage doesn’t do for me first.’

‘Don’t talk like that, my love, it brings bad luck. You’ll be fine, I know it.’

‘I’ve got letters for Flavia, mother and Gaius for you to take back to Rome, if that’s all right.’

Caenis kissed his cheek. ‘Of course it is. Flavia and I are on very good terms, much to your mother’s confusion; she even has little Titus address me as aunty. Although every time he does so I wish he was calling me mother instead.’

Vespasian held her tight, unable to reply. He was only too aware of just how much Caenis had sacrificed to be with him. ‘Stay safe in Rome, try and keep away from the palace as much as possible. I imagine that Narcissus’ scheming will escalate now that Sabinus has been so indiscreet.’

‘I can’t, I have to be there every day now that I’m working for him, even though he’s remaining here. But even if he and Messalina are openly at war, she wouldn’t be able to bring him down; Claudius relies on him too much.’

‘She might try to have him murdered.’

‘Narcissus is a very cautious man; he even has a slave taste his food. But even if she was successful I wouldn’t be harmed because I’m no threat to her. And anyway, because I stayed hidden for so long during Caligula’s reign, I doubt that she even knows my name.’

‘Let’s hope that is the case.’

‘I’m sure it is. The person who should be worried is Sabinus; Narcissus was not at all pleased.’

‘That is an understatement,’ Vespasian said, thinking of the brothers’ interview with Narcissus shortly after Sabinus’ indiscretion with Corvinus. Narcissus had flown into a rage, which had expressed itself with a hardening of the eyes into an icy glare and his voice becoming very quiet and clipped as he tore into Sabinus. The humiliation of being so spoken to by a mere freedman had almost been too much for Sabinus to bear and Vespasian had had to place a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder at the point when Narcissus called him incompetent and threatened to relieve him of his command. It was not until Vespasian had pointed out that Corvinus had absolutely no proof of his suspicions, which were based purely on assumption, that Narcissus calmed down and called for a Praetorian centurion to organise the interception of any courier leaving Corvinus’ camp that night. It was, however, only a temporary measure and they all knew that Corvinus would find a way of alerting his sister to what he suspected. Narcissus had dismissed them with a curt warning that if he had not managed to get rid of Messalina by the time that they got back to Rome then they would find themselves choosing between the options of suicide or murdering the Empress and then being executed for the crime.

‘You should go, my love,’ Caenis said, kissing his lips. ‘I can’t bear long-drawn-out goodbyes.’

‘Nor me.’ Vespasian stood and slipped his tunic on over his head.

‘Sir! Sir!’ Magnus’ voice shouted from the living area of the tent.

‘I know, I’m coming.’

Magnus popped his head through the curtains dividing off the sleeping area. ‘No, you don’t know. Mucianus sent me to get you; we’ve got a massive problem: the lads are refusing to strike the camp.’

‘What? That’s mutiny. Who are the ringleaders?’

‘That’s just it, sir, there don’t appear to be any; you see it’s not just the Second Augusta, it’s all four legions and all the auxiliaries. They’re united. They realised that when they were ordered to strike camp that meant that it was the real thing, not training, and they don’t like it. They say the island is watched over by powerful gods and full of strange spirits and they won’t go. As the old saying goes, they have no desire for the unknown. The whole army has refused to embark; they won’t go to Britannia.’

‘I suggest that you assemble the army and speak to them immediately, general, or I’ll see you going back to Rome in chains,’ Narcissus threatened without any preamble, barging into Plautius’ briefing room, his voice as brittle as ice. ‘And yours is not the only career that will be curtailed.’ He looked menacingly around the assembled legates, auxiliary prefects, tribunes and camp prefects of the army.

Plautius met Narcissus’ glare with a calm countenance. ‘That would be most unwise, imperial secretary.’

‘Unwise? You think it’s wise to let an army of forty thousand men refuse their Emperor?’

‘I don’t think that is wise but I do think it unwise to try to persuade them to embark … just now.’

‘They have to get on the ships today if you are to sail tonight.’

‘We won’t be sailing tonight.’

Narcissus stared at Plautius, dumbfounded for a moment. ‘Are you telling me, General Plautius, that you are also refusing to go?’

‘No, we’re just not going to go tonight; we’ll let the men calm down for a while and then I’ll address them in a few days’ time and we’ll go the day after that.’

‘They’re soldiers, they do what they’re told to when they’re told to; not at some time at their convenience once they’ve “calmed down”.’

‘I couldn’t agree with you more, imperial secretary, but the fact of the matter is that this is not for their convenience but rather for yours and the Emperor’s and everybody else who wishes to see this campaign pursued quickly and efficiently.’

Vespasian was forced to suppress a smile as he saw, for the first time, complete bafflement on Narcissus’ normally unreadable face.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me, general, as to how delaying the invasion is going to make the campaign quicker; I’d have thought that it would have the exact opposite effect.’

‘That’s because you are not a soldier, Narcissus, you are a palace functionary who has as much understanding of military matters as I have of etiquette.’

‘How dare you talk to me like that!’

‘No, Narcissus! How dare you burst in here and threaten me and my officers, humiliating me in front of them. You may have the Emperor’s ear and consider yourself to be of great substance but you are still a freedman, an ex-slave; without Claudius you are nothing and you know it. You are an irrelevancy who would be dead within hours of your master’s demise, which if this invasion is not a success, will be very soon. I on the other hand come from the Plautii and I won’t tolerate your arrogance any more. So you will listen to me, freedman; yesterday we heard from some Gallic traders that upwards of one hundred thousand warriors were mustering just across the straits.’ He pointed an accusatory finger towards the window beyond which a calm sea gleamed in the morning sun; on it a ship under sail slowly receded. ‘I don’t shy from odds of three to one or even five to one when fighting undisciplined savages, but I think that even you’ll agree that the fewer the enemy the better is a reasonable military maxim, especially when you’re trying to disembark your army. Now tell me what you see out of that window, imperial secretary.’

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.

‘Your Emperor has raised for you Rome’s fallen Eagle,’ Narcissus almost shrieked as soon as he could be heard. ‘He gives you back the Eagle of the Seventeenth!’ The heralds echoed his words along the ranks of now silent soldiery. An eruption of cheers broke from the Praetorian cohorts to be taken up by the legions on either side, spreading in a wave from cohort to cohort and travelling through the army just a hundred paces behind the heralds’ relayed cries, until every man knew what he was looking at and was voicing his approval as loudly as his comrades in front.

Vespasian and his fellow officers joined in the celebrations wholeheartedly, as much for the return of the fallen Eagle as for the theatrical way that Narcissus had turned around the situation. Plautius turned and saluted the golden image hovering over the invasion force, crashing his arm across his chest and stamping to a rigid attention. Centurions throughout the legions caught this gesture and roared at their men to do the same; within a few heartbeats forty thousand pila-clenching fists pointed towards the Eagle as the Praetorians chanted ‘Hail Caesar!’ Soon that chant was unanimous, in unison and deafening.

Narcissus let it ring out, pumping the Eagle in the air in sympathetic timing until men were becoming hoarse. As the chant began to wane he lowered the Eagle and with a melodramatic flourish handed it to Plautius, who kissed it and then held it with his left hand whilst holding up his right, appealing for silence. ‘The Emperor’s loyal soldiers thank him for his gift,’ he called as the noise died away.

‘The Emperor is pleased to bestow such a gift on his valiant legionaries and auxiliaries,’ Narcissus replied, turning to the quietening ranks as the words were relayed. The final herald finished his cry and Narcissus carried on: ‘The Emperor has done this for you; will you now do his bidding? Will you, free-born soldiers of Rome, now embark?’

There was complete silence as the whole army stared at the Emperor’s freedman appealing on his master’s behalf.

Vespasian felt his heart thumping within him.

‘Io Saturnalia!’ a voice bellowed suddenly from the crowd.

Vespasian felt two more beats in his chest and then heard laughter, rough and raucous, mingled in with more jovial shouts of ‘Io Saturnalia!’ that quickly spread, along with the hilarity, until every man present was laughing except for Narcissus, who was obliged to stand and be mocked as the slave or freedman allowed to wear his master’s clothes and run his house for one day over the course of the Saturnalia. He looked at Plautius, appealing with his eyes for him to stop this; but Plautius knew better than to curtail the release of so many days of tension.

‘So they have extended the Saturnalia without telling us,’ Sabinus said through his mirth.

‘Evidently!’ Vespasian replied, enjoying Narcissus’ humiliation as much as the army’s change of mood. ‘And it’s put the lads in a holiday mood. I think that after this they’ll be on for an outing.’