The Eagles Conquest

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Work on the bridgehead fortifications continued at first light. A thin mist had risen from the Tamesis and wreathed the camp of the Second Legion in its clammy chill. In the pallid glow of the rising sun, a column of legionaries trudged out of the northern gate of the marching camp that had been hastily thrown up as soon as the main body of the legion was ferried across the river. The rest of the army would soon be joining the Second to continue the campaign, and the fortifications had to be extended to accommodate the other legions and auxiliary cohorts. Round the Second Legion's palisade the engineers had marked out a vast rectangle with surveying posts. A substantial stretch of earthworks had been raised the previous day, and the engineers set to work at once on extending the defences.

With weapons neatly stacked nearby, the legionaries continued excavating the surrounding ditch and piling the spoil to form an inner rampart. Once the spoil was packed down, a layer of logs was laid along the top to form a firm platform behind the palisade of sharpened stakes driven into the body of the rampart. A screen of men stood guard a hundred paces in front of their toiling comrades and far beyond them rode the distant figures of the legion's mounted scouts. Caesar's comments about the hit-and-run tactics of the British charioteers were fresh in the mind of the legion's commander, and he had made sure that any approaching enemy would be sighted in time to warn the engineering party.

With relentless effort the earthworks were extended from the river in sections of a hundred feet at a time. Years of drilling ensured that every man knew his duty, and the work was carried out with an efficiency that gratified Vespasian when he rode out to inspect their progress. But he was preoccupied and troubled. His thoughts turned yet again to the meeting of senior officers he had attended yesterday. All the legion commanders had been present, as well as his brother Sabinus, now acting as Plautius' chief of staff.

Aulus Plautius had commended their achievements, and that the army's scouts reported that there was no significant body of enemy soldiers for many miles to their front. The Britons had taken a beating and retreated far beyond the Tamesis. Vespasian had argued that the enemy should be pursued and destroyed, before Caratacus had a chance to regroup and reinforce his army from those tribes who were only just beginning to appreciate the danger posed to them by the legions in the far south of the island. Any delay in the Roman advance could only be to the benefit of the natives. Although the Romans had managed to harvest the crops they had marched through in the early weeks of the campaign, the Britons had quickly realised the need to deny the invader the fruits of the land. The vanguard of the Roman army was advancing over the smouldering remains of wheat fields and grain stores, and the legions were wholly dependent on the depot at Rutupiae, from which long supply trains of oxen-drawn wagons dragged their loads forward to the legions. When conditions permitted, the supplies were shipped along the coast in the shallow-bottomed transports escorted by the warships of the Channel fleet. If the Britons were to make use of their superior manoeuvrability and concentrate their attacks on these supply lines, the Roman advance inland would be seriously delayed. It made sense to strike at the Britons now, while they were still reeling from their defeats at the Mead Way and the Tamesis.

The general had nodded at Vespasian's arguments, but there was no shifting him from strict adherence to the instructions he had received from Narcissus, Emperor Claudius' chief secretary.

'I agree with everything you say, Vespasian. Everything. Believe me, if there were any ambiguity in the orders, I'd exploit the loopholes. But Narcissus was quite precise: the moment we secure a bridgehead on the far bank of the Tamesis we are to halt and wait for the Emperor to come and take personal command of the final phase of this campaign. Once we've taken Camulodunum, Claudius and his entourage will head home, we'll consolidate what we hold and prepare for next year's campaign. It'll be some years yet before this island is completely tamed. But we must make sure we are strong enough to deal with Caratacus.' 'We've beaten him before, we can beat him again.'

'Only if we keep the upper hand,' replied Vespasian. 'Right now Caratacus has no army as such, just the scattered remnants of the forces we've defeated so far. If we push on we can wipe them out easily, and that'll be the end of any effective resistance before we reach Camulodunum.' Vespasian paused to choose his next words carefully. 'I know what the orders say, but what if we destroy the remainder of the enemy and then pull back to the bridgehead? Surely that would satisfy our strategic needs and the Emperor's political goals?'

Plautius clasped his hands together and leaned forward across his desk. 'The Emperor needs a military victory. He needs it for himself, and we are going to give it to him. If we do what you say and utterly crush the opposition, then who will he fight when he gets here?'

'And if we leave Caratacus alone until Claudius arrives, maybe we won't be able to beat the Britons at all. Maybe he'll arrive just in time to join the rout back to the ships. How will that look on his political record?'

'Vespasian!' Sabinus cut in, glancing sharply at his younger brother. 'I'm sure it won't come to that. Even if Caratacus does manage to field another army, we'll be reinforced by the men the Emperor brings with him. Most of the Eighth, some of the Praetorian Guard cohorts, and even elephants. Isn't that right?' Sabinus looked across the table to Plautius.

'Quite right. More than enough to crush anything the Britons can place in our way. Once those savages catch sight of the elephants, they'll bolt.'

'Elephants!' Vespasian laughed bitterly as he recalled a vivid account of the battle of Zama he had read as a boy. 'I rather think they pose more danger to our side than to the enemy. The Eighth are mostly a bunch of aged invalids and raw recruits, and the Praetorians are used to the soft life in Rome. We don't need them, any of them, if we strike now.'

'Which we cannot do under any circumstances,' Plautius said firmly. 'Those are the orders and we obey them. We don't attempt to interpret them, or skirt round them. That's an end to the issue.' The general stared fixedly at Vespasian, and the legate's final attempt at protest died in his throat. There was no point in pursuing the matter, even though all present must know it made good military sense. The effective deployment of military strategy had been overridden by a political agenda.

Sabinus sensed his brother's submission and quickly turned the discussion on to the next item on the agenda.

'Sir, we need to consider the allocation of replacements. It's most urgent.'

'Very well.' Plautius was eager to move on to a new subject. 'I've looked over your strength returns and decided on the allocations. The biggest share goes to the Second Legion.' He smiled placatingly at Vespasian. 'Your unit has taken the most casualties since we landed.'

Plautius completed his allocation of replacements, which left only the commander of the Twentieth unhappy with his lot. He was granted no extra men and, worse, his legion was relegated to the role of strategic reserve – a move guaranteed to diminish his share of the coming glory, assuming the campaign concluded successfully for the invaders.

'One final matter, gentlemen.' Plautius leaned back and made sure that he had the close attention of every officer. 'I've had reports that the enemy is using Roman army equipment: swords, slingshot and some scaled armour. If this was no more than one or two items, I might not be concerned. It is not unknown for a discharged veteran to sell his army issue to a passing trader. But the quantity recovered so far is too large to overlook. It would appear that someone has been running arms to the Britons. We'll deal with them after the campaign is over, but until then I want a record kept of every item you recover from the battlefield. When the trader is found we can round off the fighting with a nice little crucifixion.'

At once the fears Vespasian harboured about his wife's connections to the Liberators flowed to the forefront of his thoughts, accompanied by a chilling ripple up his spine.

'This trader has been rather busy, sir,' Hosidius Geta said quietly. 'Meaning?'

'Meaning that he must be running a sizeable export organisation if he's been shipping the quantity of equipment we've encountered so far. Not the kind of operation that goes easily unnoticed.'

'Do you have any objection to speaking your mind clearly?'

'None, sir.'

'Then please do so.'

'I think we're looking at something a little more sinister than some chancer hoping to turn a quick profit. The quantity of arms the Ninth has come across so far is too large. Whoever is backing this operation has access to money, some senior people in the arms factories, and a small fleet of trading vessels.'

'The Liberators emerging from the shadows again, no doubt,' Vitellius suggested with a mocking smile.

Geta turned on his stool towards him. 'You have a better explanation, Tribune?'

'Not me, sir. Just repeating a rumour that's doing the rounds.'

'Then kindly confine your remarks to ones that assist the deliberations of your betters. The rest you can save to impress the junior tribunes.' A ripple of laughter swept through the senior officers, and Vitellius' face flushed with bitter humiliation. 'As you wish, sir.'

Geta nodded with satisfaction, and turned back to the general. 'Sir, we need to inform the palace at once. Whoever is responsible for supplying the Britons with our equipment will run for cover as soon as word gets out about what we've discovered.'

'A despatch is already on its way to Narcissus,' Plautius replied smugly.

It occurred to Vespasian that the general wanted all those present to believe that he had already thought well ahead of his most seasoned commander. A message might well be en route to the chief secretary, but he doubted if it mentioned a word of Geta's conclusions. That message would hurriedly follow in the wake of the first, the moment the meeting closed. The speed with which Plautius moved on to the next item for discussion merely strengthened his suspicion.

At length Plautius pushed back his chair and ended the briefing. The legates and senior staff officers rose from their seats and filed outside to where their cavalry escorts waited to see them back to their legions. As Vespasian went to make his farewell to his brother, Plautius called him over.

'A quick word, if you'll excuse us, Sabinus?' 'Of course, sir.'

When they were alone, Plautius smiled. 'Some good news for you, Vespasian. You will have heard the Emperor is bringing a sizeable entourage with him.'

'Besides the elephants'?'

The general chuckled politely. 'Don't mind them. They're strictly for show and won't be allowed within a mile of the battle line, if I have anything to do with it. All generals have to make a show of obeying orders in public; in private we try to do what we must in order to achieve victory. Generals must be seen to obey emperors, whatever their relative military merits may be. Wouldn't you agree?'

Vespasian felt the blood drain from his face as fear and anger spilled over his self-control. 'Is this another loyalty test, sir?'

'Not in this instance, but you're wise to be cautious. No, I was merely trying to reassure you that your commanding general is not quite the fool you seem to think he is.'

'Sir!' Vespasian protested. 'I never meant to-'

'Peace, Legate.' Plautius raised his hands. 'I know what you and the others must be thinking. In your place I would feel the same. But I am the Emperor's man, charged with doing his bidding. Should I fail to obey his orders I'll be damned as insubordinate, or worse. If I fail to beat the enemy I'm also damned, but at least I'll have the defence that I was only obeying orders.' Plautius paused. 'You must think me contemptibly weak. Maybe. But one day, if your star continues to rise, you will find yourself in my position, with a talented and impatient legate anxious to execute the necessary military strategy without once considering the political agenda from which it emanates. I hope you remember my words then.'

Vespasian made no reply, just stared coldly at the general, ashamed of his inability to confront the man's patronising comments. Homilies delivered by senior officers could only be listened to in frustrated silence. 'Now then,' Plautius continued, 'the good news I promised you. Your wife and child will be travelling with the Emperor.'

'Flavia will be in his entourage? But why?'

'Don't feel overly delighted at the honour. It's a large party, well over a hundred, according to Narcissus' dispatch. I imagine Claudius just wanted to be surrounded by colourful types to keep him entertained while he's away from Rome. Whatever the reason, you'll get the chance to see her again. Quite a looker, as I recall.'

The cheap comment soured Vespasian even further. He nodded, without any attempt to convey manly pride in the possession of a wife of such striking appearance. What was between them went far deeper than any superficial attraction. But that was personal, and he would break the confidence of such an intimacy with no man. The thrilling prospect that Flavia would soon be travelling towards him was quickly submerged by anxiety about her inclusion in the Emperor's entourage. People were requested to attend the Emperor on his travels for one of two reasons. Either they were great entertainers and flatterers, or they were people who posed a sufficient threat to the Emperor that he dare not leave them out of his sight.

In view of her recent plotting, Flavia could be in the greatest possible danger – if she was under suspicion. Within the pageantry of the imperial court's travelling party, she would be secretly watched. The faintest glimmer of treason would result in her falling into the sinister claws of Narcissus' interrogators.

'Will that be all, sir?'

'Yes, that's all. Make sure you and your men make the most of the time while we wait for Claudius to arrive.'

The Eagles Conquest