Avenger of Rome (19 page)

The figure who filled the doorway was tall, with a slim muscular build that belied his age and grey, challenging eyes that dared you to disagree with him. Deep lines scored his face and he had a long hooked nose that reminded Valerius of one of the desert eagles the nomad
tribes
of the east used to hunt foxes and jackals. He wore a long tunic of raw silk secured by a belt of gold links that gave him the appearance of an eastern potentate. Many generals Valerius had served under were more administrators than soldiers – Aulus Vitellius had been one – but Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo was a truly great commander because he could fight as well as he led. Valerius had heard the stories. If Corbulo negotiated, it was from a position of strength with a legion at his back. If he retreated, it was only to find a better way to attack. He was no longer young, but he knew how to wage war and he knew how to win. This was a hard man, body and mind forged in combat into a weapon as potent as the swords his legionaries carried. His enemies feared him, his officers respected him and his soldiers loved him as they would a strict father – or a stern unforgiving god.

‘So, you are my new second in command?’

Valerius rapped the wooden fist against his leather breastplate. The unblinking eyes never left his face and the younger man swore he could sense the quiver of trapped energy and an air of deadly intent bordering on menace. Corbulo’s scrutiny continued for more than a minute while the sweat ran down Valerius’s back in a warm stream.

Eventually, the ordeal ended. Or perhaps it was only beginning. ‘Come with me,’ the governor said curtly.

He led the way through the palace to another, smaller room on the floor above and sat down behind a large desk with scrolls stacked neatly to one side and a stylus and a pile of wax tablets in front of him. A legionary of his personal guard stood on either side of the entrance and Valerius took his place in front of the desk. He caught the sweet scent of perfumed water and noticed a dark-haired figure reclining on a couch on the far side of the room playing with a small ball of fur.

‘Your orders?’

Valerius reached inside the pouch at his waist and handed over the scroll.

‘Ambiguous,’ the general said after he’d studied the contents.

‘Sir?’

‘Your orders are ambiguous. You are to be my second in command, but I am to use you in any way I see fit in the service of the Empire. In
effect
, I could make you part of the foundations of the new basilica I am having built and no one could question it. Do you agree?’

It was a dangerous question, to which there seemed no safe answer, but it demanded one. Valerius decided that attack was his best policy. ‘I do not, but judging by the welcome I received a few moments ago some of your senior officers do.’

A sniff from the corner seemed to signify that Domitia held a different opinion. Valerius felt the dark eyes on him and wondered why she was here. Had her father arranged it to keep him off balance and increase his humiliation? Or was he simply indulging his daughter? The latter seemed unlikely, and perhaps it was neither, but Valerius still felt he was caught in a trap.

Corbulo glared in the direction of his daughter. ‘They seek to protect me. Would you have them do otherwise? They look at Gaius Valerius Verrens and see a traitor in their midst.’

So it was out. Corbulo was aware of his mission and didn’t care if he knew it. In some ways that made it simpler. ‘I am no traitor. I was asked to prepare a report, nothing more.’

‘A spy then?’

The hackles rose on Valerius’s neck, but Corbulo raised a hand before he could reply.

‘From my daughter, and from certain other sources, I have been given some notion of the manner of man I am dealing with. Unless I am mistaken, or misinformed, he is a man of honour. The fact that you have undoubtedly been proved in battle is of little significance. I have known brave men of little judgement and some of no judgement at all. On the other hand, when faced with pirates, shipwreck and mutiny, you conducted yourself with intelligence and imagination. I sense that you are not a man to be swayed by either blandishment or threat, and that is what has brought me to my decision.’ The grey eyes brightened. Was there a mocking challenge in them? ‘You will investigate where you will, with my sanction, and when you have done so you will make your report. Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo has nothing to hide and nothing to fear. Of course, while you are spying on my staff, my spies will be spying on you. You would expect nothing else, I’m sure?’

Valerius tried to hide his surprise. At best, he had expected to be banished to some remote outpost, and there had always been the possibility that he might conveniently disappear in a desert ambush. Again, there was that surprising sense of support from the silent presence behind him. Corbulo continued.

‘The one stipulation I make is that, in the meantime, you serve under my command
in any way I see fit
. Do not thank me. I assure you it will be arduous, difficult duty and the manner of it may not suit you. I grant that you have fought and by all accounts fought well.’ He glanced at Valerius’s wooden fist. ‘But you have no experience of campaigning in the east. You will find that having one hand is a greater handicap against the Parthians than against your Celtic queen. A man who has faced barbarian chariots and spearmen is of little use against mounted archers who sting like hornets and then fly off to fight another day. They have a habit of eating the young, inexperienced officers they capture for breakfast.’

Corbulo continued to regard him with an unblinking stare, but a soft
miaow
broke the silence and the governor failed to suppress a rueful smile. Clearly his notorious attitude to discipline didn’t extend to his youngest daughter – or her cat.
The
general picked up his stylus and rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingers. ‘Very well. Domitia, I believe the kitchen servants require your supervision.’

There was no hint of argument against the obvious dismissal, only a soft rustle of silk and the scent of perfumed oils before Valerius felt her presence beside him.

‘I am glad to see you well, tribune.’

Her voice was lower and huskier than he remembered. Valerius turned and felt the familiar flutter as he looked into eyes the colour of polished walnuts.

‘My lady,’ he bowed. ‘I thank you for your kind words and your good opinion.’

‘Oh, I think I am in a better position to judge my saviour’s character than a few wrinkled old generals,’ she said, ignoring her father’s growl of disapproval. ‘Come, Puss Puss.’ She walked out followed by the fluffy white kitten.

The general’s expression softened. ‘My daughter tells me that you saved her life … and her virtue?’

Once more, and from an entirely unexpected angle, Valerius felt the point of a dagger tickling his spine. ‘The general’s daughter is a lady of great character and fortitude and a credit to her father,’ he said carefully. ‘She withstood pirate attack, shipwreck, mutiny, thirst and fire without a single word of complaint. If anything she was strongest of us all.’

Corbulo nodded absently. ‘And you were together for how long?’

How long? A lifetime. Valerius understood that the general felt the conversation had to take place and the questions had to be asked, but the room suddenly felt more dangerous than the slippery, blood-soaked boards of the pirate galley. ‘I believe it was six days between the wreck and the morning General Vespasian’s son came to our rescue. We had run out of water and I doubt we would have been alive an hour later.’

‘She speaks very highly of you.’

‘I did my duty and nothing more.’ Valerius kept his voice steady and tried to think of anything but the night beneath the cloak. He had a moment of inspiration. ‘I would commend the name of Tiberius Claudius Crescens to the general. Tribune Crescens is a remarkably resourceful young man. He rode close to sixty miles through the desert for help.’

The general nodded again. ‘Very well, I will interview him later. In the meantime, I plan to convene a strategy conference with the officers you met below. You are aware of our situation?’

‘General Vespasian was kind enough to brief me.’

‘Good. That will save time. You will take up your position immediately. Your predecessor, Tiberius Alexander, was a good man; he will have left everything in order.’

‘He must have been popular,’ Valerius risked the rueful suggestion. ‘His comrades do not appreciate the arrival of his replacement.’

Corbulo laughed. ‘It’s not your arrival they do not appreciate, tribune, or even the fact that they think you are a spy. It is because they think you are here to kill me.’

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.