Hammer of Rome Read online

  ‘But the ceremonies for Vespasian’s deification haven’t been completed,’ Valerius pointed out.

  Agricola stared at him with an odd look in his eyes. ‘Titus has suspended the period of mourning for his father. That’s why there was no point in my staying.’

  Valerius shook his head. Such a thing was unthinkable. Unless …

  ‘There has been a disaster – no, a catastrophe – in the Bay of Neapolis.’

  XII

  Rome

  ‘It’s not possible.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Caesar.’ Senator Ulpius Traianus didn’t flinch from his emperor’s gaze. ‘Communications are still difficult in the area around the Bay of Neapolis, but there can be no doubt that the damage in many places is total. Whole communities – Pompeii, Herculaneum, Oplontis and Stabiae – destroyed so completely they might never have existed.’

  Titus still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As a child he’d played on the slopes around the great villas of Stabiae and swum in the cool waters of the sea. His father had taken him to see a gladiator show at the amphitheatre in Pompeii. Whole streets, temples, villas, shops and factories. All gone. Yet there could be no mistake. Traianus had anchored off Neapolis on his way back from his province of Asia and walked the barren, sulphurous slopes of the volcano while the ashes were still warm.

  ‘Survivors?’

  ‘The Misenum fleet managed to pick up Pomponianus and a few others from Stabiae and it’s likely that some people in the countryside fled south, but of the rest, none. They had nowhere to run. As far as we can tell the whole area to the south and west of the mountain is buried under ten feet of ash.’

  Titus’s mind reeled at the scale of the disaster and the resources that he would have to find to bring solace to the survivors. They would need roofs over their heads, food and water. He must arrange an immediate visit … He could feel Traianus’s eyes on him.

  ‘The Misenum fleet? Of course. Pliny.’

  ‘Gaius Plinius Secundus died a hero.’

  Titus struggled visibly to deal with this new blow. Pliny was the Empire’s finest mind. Its greatest natural philosopher. He’d sent Titus an early version of his astonishing Naturalis Historia, ten volumes of incredible detail and insight that covered everything from astronomy and mathematics to metallurgy and mining. Titus barely noticed that Traianus had continued talking.

  ‘I spoke to his nephew, Gaius, of course, and the commander of his flagship, the Annona. When he was alerted by the first eruption his first instinct was to go to the aid of his friend Tuscius, but when the scale of the event became clear he called out the fleet. They sailed through a storm of plunging rocks to Herculaneum, but the harbour there was blocked by some convulsion. The mariners wished to turn back, but Pliny wouldn’t have it. Fortuna favours the bold, he said. If they couldn’t save Tuscius and his wife, at least they could do something for Pomponianus and those trapped at Stabiae.’ Traianus cleared his throat and Titus called for a servant to bring him a cup of watered wine. When his visitor had drunk the Emperor signalled for him to continue. ‘They managed to reach Stabiae with some difficulty, but once they were in the harbour the wind changed direction and it was impossible to get out again. By now the fall of ash and rock had worsened, but Pliny remained calm. He said he would stay overnight at the house of Pomponianus and they would sail as soon as the wind turned in their favour. In the meantime, anyone with no other means of escape would be taken on board the ships of the fleet.’ He frowned. ‘As you know, Pliny was rather overweight and often struggled for breath. Despite his disability he refused a chair to carry him up the hill to the villa. Conditions continued to deteriorate through the night. Eventually it became clear the weight of ash on the roof of Pomponianus’s house was unsustainable, and Pliny took the decision to return to the ships. Somewhere on the way down he lost touch with the rest of the party. Two slaves who had been helping him reported he had collapsed during the descent and passed away soon after. His body was recovered two days later and it was my honour to carry it back here to Rome.’

  ‘Thank you, for your service to Rome,’ Titus said. ‘I am sure you must be tired after your journey.’ He turned away and looked out from the palace window over the sea of terracotta rooftops on the Quirinal Hill. When Traianus was gone he called for his secretary. ‘Make arrangements for me to travel to Neapolis. Six senators will accompany me. Military men, I think. I will need experts in supply, housing and road-building.’

  ‘When do you wish to leave, Caesar?’

  ‘In three days. First I must bury an old friend.’

  XIII

  ‘So Pliny is dead?’

  ‘He died a hero,’ Agricola confirmed, ‘attempting to rescue the people of Stabiae.’

  Valerius went to the window and stared at the clouds. It seemed absurd that Pliny would never look at them again, wondering where they came from, or how and why rain only fell from a cloudy sky. How could so much intelligence be wiped away in a single moment? Yes, they still had his books – Valerius had the entire collection, including the treatise on cavalry spearmen he’d helped Pliny write – but without the mind that created them the books would fade and decay and eventually the author himself would be forgotten. Pliny had sent him into mortal danger in Hispania, then saved his life on the dusty road from Asturica Augusta to Tarraco. They’d been friends for so long, arguing cases in the law courts and exchanging letters from distant lands, that it was impossible to imagine the world without the embodiment of that fierce, questing hunger for knowledge.

  ‘I’m sorry …?’

  ‘I was saying that the Emperor is focusing all his attention on providing food and shelter for the survivors,’ Agricola said. ‘He plans to rebuild what can be rebuilt and replace what cannot. It is an enormous task which will require all his energies for months to come. He was of a mind to abandon the Britannia campaign entirely and withdraw a legion to Italia to help with the reconstruction of Neapolis.’

  Valerius felt a moment of nostalgia for the warmth of the Italian sun. Would it be so wrong for the Ninth to be called back to carry out something worthwhile? Campaigning with Agricola wore a man down and, in truth, he sometimes wondered at the point of the operation. He’d seen little evidence of a threat from the northern tribes that warranted the attention of three legions. But Agricola quickly forestalled such wistful notions. ‘Fortunately, I persuaded him otherwise. He has given us two more years to complete the subjugation of the north.’

  ‘Is that possible?’ Valerius didn’t hide his scepticism.

  ‘I have assured him it can be done, and that once the north is pacified two legions will be all that is required to maintain peace and stability on the islands.’

  ‘You have promised him what you cannot provide,’ Valerius persisted. ‘Better to tell him now. Titus is the kind of man who would rather hear the truth. He will—’

  Agricola’s jaw tightened. ‘Do you presume to tell me how to run my province, legate?’

  ‘No, proconsul, I do not.’ Valerius bit back the words that might have permanently destroyed their relationship. ‘I merely offer my advice.’

  ‘When I want your advice I will ask for it.’ The governor made a visible attempt to contain his fury. Eventually, he said, ‘I spoke in anger. Let us put this behind us, Valerius.’

  Valerius nodded his agreement.

  ‘I have not offered the Emperor the impossible, because you will make it possible. With the Brigantes destroyed there is no reason why we cannot advance at speed. Yes,’ he said before Valerius could protest, ‘I know there are a dozen tribes to the north who have not yet felt the power of Rome, but none of them matches the Brigante federation for fighting strength. Are we agreed on that at least?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, forget about your flanks. Push ahead as fast as your men can march. You will have the full support of the fleet and every pound of supplies they can carry. Harry the tribes through the winter. Weaken them so that when spring comes we can advance
at speed with all three legions and drive like a spear into the heartland of the Caledonians, who are the true enemy.’

  ‘You know there are reasons why we don’t campaign in winter. Valid reasons.’

  ‘Of course I do.’ He smiled, and a new Agricola appeared from behind the mask of command, ‘But I am fortunate that I have with me the one man who can overcome those difficulties. If anyone can do it, Valerius, you can.’

  Valerius saw there was no point in continuing the discussion. By ordering his army to go beyond the norms of war and carry the fight to the enemy in the dead of winter, the governor had shown that the taking of northern Britannia was not only an act of Imperial strategy, but an extension of his own vanity. Agricola would have his triumph if it cost the life of Valerius and every man who served under him. It was an act of desperation, perhaps even of madness. Should he make a personal appeal to Titus and warn him of the potential consequences? He had the means. But that would be a betrayal, not just of Agricola, but of Valerius’s own principles. As a commander he had always counted on the loyalty and support of his subordinates; why should Agricola not be able to expect the same? He stood. ‘In that case I should return to my command as quickly as possible. There is one more thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have reason to believe my family is being watched.’

  ‘Watched?’ Agricola frowned. ‘By whom?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain,’ Valerius admitted.

  ‘Your wife is starting at shadows, then.’ Agricola smiled. ‘It is a trait in some women.’

  ‘Not in Tabitha. A man followed her to the Street of the Silversmiths. She noticed him watching her and contrived to have him followed in his turn.’ The smile had never quite reached Agricola’s eyes. Now it froze in place.

  ‘What did this watcher look like?’

  Valerius repeated what Tabitha had told him.

  ‘A description that could fit any one of a thousand of Londinium’s inhabitants,’ Agricola pointed out.

  ‘He came here to your palace and was welcomed like an old friend.’

  ‘What are you insinuating, Valerius?’

  ‘I insinuate nothing.’ Valerius held the other man’s gaze. ‘All I do is present the facts and the facts suggest that the man who followed Tabitha may be a member of this household.’

  The governor tapped his stylus on his writing table. ‘Very well. I will have the matter investigated. Will that satisfy you?’

  Valerius knew he could expect nothing more. He bowed his head in thanks.

  ‘I am sure we will find some innocent explanation.’ Agricola rose and walked him to the door. ‘Some foolishness by one of the servants. Your wife is a strikingly attractive woman, Valerius. It would be unfortunate, but not surprising, that she would draw a man’s attention.’ He hesitated as if a thought had struck him. ‘Of course, I must also acknowledge the possibility that some member of my staff may have shown an over-enthusiastic regard for Tabitha’s safety and decided to have her watched for her own protection while you were on campaign. Whatever the explanation, I hope you will accept my assurance there will be no recurrence of the event.’

  Valerius stood in the doorway just long enough to let Agricola know that he would hold him to his promise. ‘Of course, proconsul.’

  Agricola waited long enough to ensure Valerius had left the palace before he called for his clerk. ‘Send for my senior aide.’

  Metilius Aprilis appeared a few moments later, clad in a simple tunic and carrying a bundle of scrolls. Agricola didn’t invite him to sit.

  ‘I thought I made it clear before I departed for Rome that Valerius Verrens was to be left strictly alone until I could gauge some idea of the new emperor’s exact feelings towards him.’

  Aprilis’s cheerful expression turned wary. ‘Have I done wrong, lord?’

  Agricola repeated the description Valerius had given him. ‘One of yours, I suspect.’

  ‘Milo,’ Aprilis hissed. ‘The fool.’

  ‘My instructions included his wife and his family, I believe.’

  ‘Yes,’ Aprilis acknowledged, ‘but you also suggested that I spend the time considering his weaknesses. On reflection,’ the young man recovered some of his former bounce, ‘it seemed to me that Tabitha might turn out to be his greatest weakness. She is an easterner, with contacts and friendships within that community …’

  ‘Are you suggesting she is some kind of spy?’

  ‘No, lord,’ the younger man hurried on. ‘But she is, or was, a Judaean before her marriage to Valerius, and as we know, a Judaean is but one step from a Christ-follower.’

  ‘Titus, like his father, is ambivalent on the subject of the Christ-followers.’

  ‘But others on the Palatine are not,’ Aprilis said with a significant look.

  ‘Very well,’ Agricola said after an interval. ‘But this stops now. Titus Flavius Caesar Vespasianus Augustus has let it be known that the legate of the Ninth legion is a favoured friend. A single word from Valerius Verrens could have severe consequences for us both, Metilius. Do not forget that.’

  Aprilis bowed. ‘Lord.’ After an interval he dared to raise his eyes to meet the other man’s. ‘And what of our friend on the Palatine?’

  Agricola looked to the door, and when he spoke it was in a voice so low only Aprilis could hear. ‘It was not deemed safe for me to meet him, nor to receive a letter, but a verbal message was sent. His enmity is undiminished, but the moment is inopportune.’

  ‘So our brave soldier is safe for now?’

  ‘As safe as any man about to embark on a winter campaign against a dangerous enemy in the mountainous north. Who knows what ills could befall him? But we must wish him well, Aprilis. If he succeeds it will be Gnaeus Julius Agricola who rides in triumph through Rome.’

  ‘And if he fails?’

  ‘If he fails, our emperor may have reason to revise his opinion of Gaius Valerius Verrens.’

  XIV

  The first autumn frost dusted the grass with silver and turned the ground hard as mortar on the morning Valerius rode through the gates of the temporary camp at Brynmochdar. Naso welcomed him with a guard of honour and a quizzical expression. Why would the legate of the Ninth turn up at the legion’s winter quarters when he could be tucked up with his pretty wife in the comfort and warmth of his Londinium villa?

  Valerius noted that his men had made themselves comfortable in the time he was away. Instead of the usual leather tents they’d built barrack blocks from wood salvaged from Guiderius’s enormous folly of a hill fort, timber walls windproofed with moss and mud and thatched with layers of reeds. Naso’s principia was constructed of the same materials, but somehow he’d managed to find a batch of terracotta roof tiles that gave the building an air of permanence.

  ‘Camp prefect,’ Valerius greeted his second in command. ‘I see you’ve been busy.’

  ‘We didn’t expect to see you so soon, legate,’ the other man smiled. ‘But I’m sure we’ll be able to find somewhere to put your head down.’

  Valerius recognized a familiar face among the honour guard. ‘Crescens, I hope you’ve been keeping out of mischief?’

  ‘Of course, lord. May I ask if the lady Tabitha is keeping well?’

  ‘She is, soldier.’ Valerius returned his grin. ‘And so is the lady Ceris.’ Valerius knew that Crescens, once the most awkward of his bodyguard, had developed a recent attachment to Tabitha’s Corieltauvi companion. Unfortunately the attachment was not returned by the lady and would earn him a dagger through his liver if Rufius Florus ever discovered its existence.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to escort the legate to his quarters, Crescens,’ Naso suggested.

  Valerius dismounted and handed his reins to a groom as Crescens took step beside him. ‘What’s been happening while I’ve been away, Julius?’ Valerius nodded at the legionaries who looked up to watch their legate pass. ‘The men seem suspiciously cheerful.’

  ‘The lads are happy as pigs in shit, begging the legate’s
pardon.’ Crescens grinned. ‘Don’t get me wrong, lord, the camp prefect keeps us busy, but living in barracks through a nice warm summer certainly beats marching twenty miles every day with some big barbarian out there itching to stick a spear through you. Our main job has been disarming the Brigantes and getting them settled back on their farms. A few thousand slipped away to the north. I reckoned they were gone for good, but …’ he gave Valerius a sideways look, ‘I have a feeling we might be seeing them again sooner than we thought.’

  Valerius ignored the hint as the clatter of hooves on frost-hardened ground announced the return of a mounted patrol. A cavalry squadron. Thirty dust-stained, travel-weary men entered through the gateway, their horses surrounded by clouds of steam. A diminutive figure swathed in furs rode at their head. Valerius hurried towards them as Gaius Rufus unwrapped a cloth from his bearded face and slipped from the saddle.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon, scout,’ Valerius greeted him. ‘You have news for me?’

  ‘I have news, lord,’ Rufus confirmed, but his expression gave nothing away.

  ‘Ask the camp prefect to join us in the principia,’ Valerius ordered Crescens.

  While they waited, Gaius Rufus heated a bowl of water with a glowing poker then buried his face in it. ‘By Taranis’s three heads,’ he gasped, emerging from the steaming bowl just as Naso arrived, ‘I thought my ears were going to freeze solid and fall off, and as for my nether parts …’

  Valerius laughed. ‘I think we’ve heard enough about those. In any case, I’d prefer to know what you’ve been up to since I sent you north.’ He retrieved a circular leather tube from his baggage and opened it to reveal a roll of parchment, made up of several smaller sheets sewn together. When Valerius pinned it to the principia’s collapsible campaign table, Naso saw that it was a crude map. Valerius looked to Rufus. ‘You’ll recognize this. It’s based on the information you gave my engineer in Londinium.’