Sword of Rome (44 page)

Valerius studied the sullen, suspicious faces of the men watching the conversation. They were of a mix familiar to him from the days he had trained at Marcus’s school and ranged from hulking giants who looked
as if they could crush a skull with their fingers to men so small they could almost be called midgets. Their exotic paraphernalia was the same equipment they wore in the arena – strange helmets and armour from barbarian tribes and the troops of long-forgotten empires – and they carried the same weapons: curved swords, boar spears and even tridents. They had two things in common: they were some of the fittest men he had ever seen and every man had been marked by defeat. ‘Will they fight again?’

Marcus hesitated for only a moment. ‘If they are well led.’

Otho had taken over the
praetorium
in a tented pavilion at the heart of the First Adiutrix camp. As he approached, Valerius didn’t know what to expect. After all, he was the man the Emperor had been prepared to have killed and who had failed in his mission. The welcome turned out to be warmer than he had a right to expect. Otho immediately broke off his discussion and led the one-handed tribune aside. The other man had changed since Valerius last saw him, the handsome features more drawn and careworn, and to Valerius’s surprise he was wearing a simple legionary’s tunic and armour. ‘I fear I did not expect to see you again, but I am glad you are here. We are in need of every seasoned soldier who can carry a sword. You have come from where?’

‘I carry news from General Spurinna.’

‘You fought at Placentia?’ Otho didn’t hide his surprise. ‘The last word we had was that the city was still under siege and might be taken any day.’

Valerius explained how Caecina’s forces had been defeated and Otho closed his eyes. ‘Victory,’ he whispered. ‘A victory that balances all else. Yes, a victory against great odds and an omen for what is to come.’

Valerius was bemused. ‘In Brixellum they spoke of another great victory at a place called Ad Castorum.’

A shadow fell over the Emperor’s face and he directed a pained glance to where Suetonius Paulinus stood having a heated debate with three other officers. ‘A victory of sorts, but not one to be celebrated. An opportunity lost. If my generals but had confidence in their troops,
Caecina might have been destroyed; instead he was allowed to withdraw. You know he has been joined by Valens.’

Valerius opened his mouth to reply, but the Emperor noticed the slim figure hovering by the doorway and for a moment the old predatory Otho reappeared. ‘You have not introduced me to your companion.’

‘May I present the lady Domitia Longina Corbulo.’

The Emperor’s eyes widened at the name. ‘You are most welcome, lady, but I fear your father would have been more welcome still. A great man and a fine soldier.’ Domitia acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod.

‘The lady Domitia wishes to return to Rome and hoped you would be able to spare an escort.’

‘Of course.’ Otho smiled. ‘And she will also have my carriage. I find it much more agreeable to march with my soldiers than to ride past them like some preening golden peacock.’ He lowered his voice so that what he said would be inaudible to the other men in the pavilion. ‘It will also give me an opportunity to rid myself of an irritant. He came north insisting he would fight alongside his cousin, who commands my Praetorians, and I could not send him away for fear of insulting his father.’ He called to an aide. ‘Send me young Domitianus.’

It took Valerius a moment to recognize the tall young man who appeared in the doorway. Titus Flavius Domitianus was dressed in a tribune’s armour instead of the tunic he’d worn in the garden outside Domitia’s house, but the look of loathing that contorted the pale features left Valerius in no doubt that he hadn’t been forgotten – or forgiven. The look lasted less than a second before it transformed into a puzzled, moonstruck half-smile as Domitianus sensed the identity of the feminine presence half hidden by the two men. Domitia’s mouth fell open and she darted a glance of dismay at Valerius. Fortunately, she recovered before the Emperor noticed.

‘But Caesar, I must not deny you the services of such a brave warrior,’ she said earnestly. ‘Surely you have a slave woman who could accompany me?’

Domitianus was caught between preening at the compliment and
alarm that his opportunity to spend an extended period with the woman whose beauty made the blood pound in his ears was threatened. Otho sensed some undercurrent and his face creased in a puzzled smile. He vaguely remembered the letter from Flavius Sabinus and the hint of some conflict between Valerius and this boy. For a moment he was tempted to accede to Domitia’s suggestion, but the chance to rid himself of the Flavian irritant was too good to miss.

‘No, I insist. This young nobleman will protect you and entertain you on your journey, although I agree that you must have a woman to attend you. We will find a slave of suitable age and ability to accompany you in the carriage. You will leave after dawn.’

The final words allowed no further argument. Otho gestured at Valerius to accompany him and with a last look of fury Domitia reluctantly followed the tall young man from the tent, taking all Valerius’s hopes with her.

‘You already know Suetonius Paulinus, of course.’ All thought of Domitia was swept from Valerius’s mind as Otho introduced the three men who stood around the table at the far end of the room. ‘Marius Celsus, who also advises me on military matters, and Orfidius Benignus, commanding First Adiutrix. I want you to act as Benignus’s second in command. You have heard of our gladiators?’ Celsus gave a derisive snort and shot a sneering glance at Paulinus, who ignored him. Valerius nodded.

Otho continued, echoing the words of Marcus the
lanista
. ‘Brave men and hardy fighters: a potentially telling weapon, but one that must be wielded by a skilled hand. We lost many of them in a misguided attempt to split Caecina from Valens, but they can still be of use. You will form them into a single cohort and integrate them with First Adiutrix. It will help compensate for the loss of the cohort to Placentia.’ Valerius mentioned that Spurinna was sending five centuries of the marine legionaries back to join their legion. ‘Better still. Let us hope they will be in time.’ Valerius noticed the look of surprise Paulinus shot the Emperor, but Otho continued unperturbed. ‘Benignus, you are happy with this?’

Benignus was the scion of a rich patrician family and their wealth
had helped furnish the tent with ornate wall hangings and statuary by famous sculptors, including a very recent bust of Marcus Salvius Otho Augustus. It was an unusual display of affluence in a military camp, but he had a reputation as a fair man and a good soldier. He was clearly anything but happy, but he looked to Valerius. ‘As long as they will fight.’

Valerius met his gaze. ‘They will fight.’

‘You said you hope they will be here in time, Imperator?’

Otho looked down at the table before he answered Paulinus. Its top was covered in sand and formed a detailed map of the terrain between Bedriacum and Cremona. His gaze ranged over the bumps and hollows, taking in every detail. Finally, he made his decision. ‘I am convinced we must bring the enemy to battle.’ The two men stared at each other and Valerius had the feeling this was an argument that had begun before Paulinus entered the tent.

‘And
I
must advise against it.’ The tone was polite, but the voice of Boudicca’s conqueror held a core of iron. ‘We have an excellent defensive position here. I believe we are still outnumbered by the enemy, but our strength increases with every passing day. We have supplies in plenty, while the enemy goes hungry. If we have patience, the enemy will be forced to attack us on this ground; the ground of our choosing.’ He stabbed a finger at the table. ‘If we attack him,
he
will have the advantage of choosing where we meet. In another two days Fourteenth Gemina will be here. In another week we will have two more legions and victory is certain.’

Valerius watched Otho’s reaction and was reminded of another conference in another tent, when Corbulo had outlined the detailed plan for the battle of the Cepha gap. His army had been outnumbered almost three to one and his commanders had opposed his plan, but Corbulo had never allowed his council of war to turn into a debate. The Emperor drew himself up to his full height and Valerius knew before he spoke that he would dismiss Suetonius Paulinus’s perfectly logical military reasons for not meeting the enemy.

Otho nodded slowly, still staring at the contours on the table. ‘I respect the venerable general’s regard for caution. He was cautious
at Ad Castorum and no doubt we still have our army as a result of it.’ Paulinus visibly flinched at the words and Valerius remembered Marcus’s comments about betrayal and cowardice. Was Otho accusing the great general of running away? ‘But I do not have the time for caution,’ the Emperor went on. ‘The longer I wait, the weaker becomes my position in Rome. If I do not act, it appears I am inviting Vitellius to take my throne. Valens and Caecina have combined, but I believe we are more than strong enough to defeat them. Have patience, you say, and they will attack us? But what if they divide their army again?’ He met Paulinus’s unflinching glare. ‘What if Caecina pins us here and Valens moves to attack Rome? Must I stand idly by while they ravage my people?’ The Emperor’s voice shook with suppressed emotion. ‘No, the time is now. One decisive battle, and the usurpers will run like beaten dogs. Their soldiers are dupes who fight not for Rome but for plunder and for Rome’s enemy. When they see the true might of Rome, their hearts will fail them.’

Valerius studied the sand table. The raised causeway of the Via Postumia ran arrow-straight from Bedriacum to Cremona, with the Padus river five miles to the south-west. On the river flank of the road the ground was relatively clear, but to the north-east small notes on the map identified fields clogged with bushes and vines, and beyond them terrain that was mostly bog and scrub. He decided it was a good road for marching down, but ground more suited to ambush than battle.

Otho was still speaking. ‘My brother Titianus will join us later today or tomorrow to take overall command.’ Paulinus met the news of his demotion with a deeper scowl, but he made no protest and the Emperor continued: ‘In two days we will march down this road and force them to meet us or flee. Now, to the dispositions.’

Boudicca’s conqueror continued to argue for delay, but his voice was that of a man who knew he was already defeated. Benignus, an aristocrat whose bloodline went back to Romulus, tapped his manicured fingers on the table as he studied the road. Valerius had the feeling he agreed with Paulinus, but having been only recently appointed was unwilling to speak out. Celsus, who Valerius was certain had been about to vote against the plan, threw his wholehearted support behind
Otho now the decision was made. Belatedly, Vedius Aquila, legate of the Thirteenth legion, made an appearance, apologizing for his absence, but bringing news that the advance guard of the Fourteenth Gemina were only a few miles to the east.

Otho was elated. ‘You see, Suetonius,’ he said fiercely. ‘You will have your Britannia heroes with you after all.’ Even Paulinus’s thin lips twitched in a smile. The Fourteenth had been the core of his army in the final battle to defeat Boudicca and he had a huge affection for the legion. ‘The order of march will be this,’ the Emperor continued. He addressed Aquila first. ‘Thirteenth and elements of the Fourteenth in the van will form the right of the line when battle is joined. Orfidius? Your Adiutrix will follow and hold the left, and your gladiator villains with them, Valerius. The ground is more open there, so you will also have the bulk of the cavalry. The Praetorian Guard will follow and take the fight to the enemy in the centre.’ He smiled. ‘We have seen that they don’t have the legs of a veteran legion, but they are eager enough. Are there any questions?’

Hearing the plan for the first time, Aquila studied the sand table with the deep frown of a worried man. ‘We will be advancing on a narrow front. I take it that our action, if we meet an enemy force of similar strength, will be to assume defensive positions and draw them on to us?’

‘No.’ The Thirteenth’s legate flinched at the force in Otho’s voice. ‘If we meet the enemy we will take the initiative and attack. This will be a decisive battle. The traitors must be given no opportunity to run away.’

Valerius exchanged a glance with Paulinus. The general’s face was grim, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Aquila had another question. ‘Will the Thirteenth have the honour of your presence on the right?’

Otho’s face froze and the atmosphere in the room changed as if a cloud had just covered the sun. It was Celsus who answered. ‘Tradition dictates that the Emperor has no place on the field of battle.’

‘But …’

‘No Emperor since Augustus has fought on the front line,’ the
adviser continued. ‘It has already been decided. The life of Marcus Salvius Otho Augustus is too valuable to be risked on the battlefield. He will take up a position in Brixellum with our strategic reserve and await your call, or the outcome, of which he is not in doubt.’ More than one pair of eyes widened at the words ‘strategic reserve’. If they met the enemy in any strength, the fighting power of every auxiliary and legionary in Otho’s army would be needed. Brixellum was twenty miles and more from the potential site of the battle. It would take Otho’s ‘strategic reserve’ a day’s hard marching even to reach it. Celsus sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. ‘Vitellius the usurper is not with his army, so …’

Otho laid a hand on his arm and his eyes sought out each man in the room in turn. ‘Please do not question my courage …’ Valerius joined the chorus of denial. ‘I am more than willing to lay down my life for this cause. But I am an old-fashioned man who believes it is the job of his generals to fight battles. And now, if there is nothing else, I must rest.’

The five officers saluted and as the Emperor talked quietly with Celsus the others left the tent to brief their junior commanders. Aquila and Benignus whispered together and Suetonius Paulinus hung back deliberately to walk beside Valerius through the long lines of eight-man legionary tents towards the gates. They were not friends. Paulinus might have created him Hero of Rome, but Valerius had good reason to believe the consul would have been happy to see him dead two years earlier when Nero’s torturers were ‘cleaning up’ after the Piso conspiracy. Now, however, it seemed he was seen as a potential ally.