Legatus Legionis: Book Two in the Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy (6 page)

"Any advice you can offer on that would be welcomed." Gaius began to realize that those on the other side of the Danube might not be his only problem.

"He's a very cautious man," the ex-Legate said, after a moment's pause, "not that I would want that spread about."

"Any advice stays between the two of us," Gaius assured him.

"It may be hard to persuade him to show aggression," the ex-Legate offered. "On the other hand, if you can get on the right side of him, he's very well connected. One of his ancestors' cousins was a friend of the delightful Livia, and said cousin was the mother of Plautia Urgulanilla . . ."

"Which gets you rather close to the Imperial family," Gaius nodded, as he suddenly realized the significance of the 'Plautia'.

"Exactly, and there's more. His wife, Pomponia Graecina, comes from a very illustrious family, which includes Vipsania Agrippina . . ."

"Tiberius' wife?" Gaius asked.

"The same."

"I see," Gaius said slowly. A cautious man who could break him, and a
Princeps
who wanted things to happen. Not exactly a good mix. "Nevertheless, at the very least I need to be able to advise Governor Plautius that at least I know how to carry out a raid. Have we got boats?"

"We'll have those that brought that lot over, and you can get more."

"I shall inform the Tribunes I'm planning a retaliatory attack and I'll want all logistics information at their fingertips. Then I'll have to work out a way to get to meet Governor Plautius."

"Then tune up your social graces," the ex-Legate smiled. "You've got a dinner invitation for tonight. One of the more influential Roman families."

"I look forward to it," Gaius said formally, if not entirely truthfully.

"I suspected as much," the ex-Legate said with a condescending smile. "Governor Plautius will be there, and I'm sure he will be interested to meet his new military firebrand!"

* * *

The cart was soon found, and Gaius was pleased to see that all his valuables were still present. With nothing much else to do for the afternoon, he set about enquiring about smiths: who was available, who was skilled, and where were they? There was a choice of two, so he selected the one he felt was most suitable and introduced himself and Timothy to him. A good number of sesterces had the man's interest, and he assured Gaius that he would be able to cast something out of bronze that would follow Gaius' diagrams.

* * *

Gaius nodded at the doorman, and stepped forward. Formal dress was not his strong suit. The toga was an item of clothing that could either look highly formal and convey great wisdom and dignity, or look like a long sheet of cloth that had been thrown over the body. Somehow, it always seemed to look like the latter on him. He also had to overcome the feeling that he should adjust it from time to time. Somehow, it never felt right. On the other hand, other men were not continually fiddling with their togas, probably because they had the knack of wearing them properly.

He had to forget about this wretched toga. There was the host, and accompanied by a very beautiful woman. The woman from the bridge. Young enough to be the host's daughter, and from the facial likeness, she probably was.

"Gaius Claudius Scaevola," he introduced himself.

"The
Princeps
mentioned you," the man nodded. "I am Publius Valerius Messala."

"You get on well with the
Princeps
?" Gaius asked politely.

The man stared at him, then laughed bitterly and said, "You survive with Little Boots, as I thought you might have gathered."

"I've heard rumours," Gaius replied stiffly.

"Well put, young Claudius," the man nodded. "Oh, my daughter, Valeria Vipsania. I gather you've met."

"I've met him," Vipsania responded calmly. "He ignored me."

Gaius stared at her, and gasped. She was incredibly beautiful, or at least he thought so. And then a sudden thought struck him. The prophecy! She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he had really ignored her. That left . . . the ugliest one of all!

"He did have other things on his mind," her father said calmly. "There was a defence to organize."

"He did that with remarkable efficiency," Vipsania said, "and even made spare time. And guess what he would rather do in that spare time than talk to me?"

"I hate your guessing games," her father admitted.

"He'd rather drop stones off the bridge." She turned to Gaius and challenged, "That's true, isn't it."

"That'll look impressive on a report to Little Boots," Gaius said wistfully.

"On a par with collecting Neptune's treasures, instead of invading Britain," Vipsania challenged. "I presume there was a reason."

"To win a bet with you," Gaius responded impulsively.

"What makes you think I'd want to bet with you?" came the curious reply. At least, Gaius noticed, it was not derisive.

"Romans love betting," Gaius said.

"Roman men like betting," Vipsania corrected.

"But you think you're as good or better than a man," Gaius found himself saying. Once in, there was no going back. "You're bound to think you're cleverer than me."

"Perhaps I am."

"Then you'll take the bet to prove it."

She looked at him cautiously. "So what is this bet?"

"I take a piece of steel," Gaius said, "a piece of rock four times as heavy, and probably about ten times as big, and a piece of lead about the same size as the steel, but twice as heavy, and I drop them off the bridge at the same time. I bet you can't tell me what order they'll hit the water."

"This is important?" Vipsania asked with a frown.

"It is if you want to win bets."

"Well, Vipsania?" her father asked. "Seems a good bet. He can't cheat, and you're always moaning to me about the cruelty of Little Boots' games."

"And what do you think about gladiators?" Vipsania stared at Gaius.

"Totally uncivilised," Gaius shrugged, "although to be fair, I've never been to see any."

"You've never been to any?" she asked in surprise, touched with disbelief.

"I told you his family
were . . . shall we say . . . at best unusual," her father smiled.

"Anyway," Gaius turned the conversation back to his challenge, "you wish to offer a guess?"

"Everyone knows the answer to that," she said with a touch of disbelief that anyone could even contemplate considering this a problem. "The order is the order of weight, and provided they are weighed properly first that's obvious."

"How much do you wish to bet?" Gaius smiled.

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"I bet you're wrong," Gaius replied evenly. "So, if you're right, what do you want, or, put it another way, if I'm right, what do I get."

"You're serious?" she looked at him. "You must be mad."

"You want?" he challenged.

"OK, if you wish to go ahead with this stupidity," she frowned, "you clean out our host's pigsties, and I mean you, personally."

"Now there's a challenge," her father grinned. "I ought to warn you, young Claudius, that verges on a Herculean task."

"Accepted," Gaius shrugged, "provided you accept a task of similar unpleasantness if you lose."

"So you think the lead will hit first?" Vipsania frowned.

"No. I think provided they are all released at the same time, they will hit more or less together."

"That's silly!"

"Then accept the bet!" he challenged, and turned to take a goblet of wine from a tray that was being carried around.

"You've got an open-ended . . ."

"No! Your father is a witness. No harmful tasks, just unpleasant."

She looked at him more thoughtfully, then said, "I'm curious. Just what horrible task have you got in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I haven't got anything in mind, and I probably never will." He paused, then added, "I can't see how I win by making you miserable."

Her look was almost respectful as she said, "You know the answer, don't you?"

"You don't think I really want to clean out your pigsties, do you?"

"You're a philosopher," she said, "like those ancient Greeks."

"Ssshhhh!" he said, turning in mock furtiveness. "Can't let Timothy hear that!"

"Who's Timothy?"

"A Greek who was with me at the bridge, and who's trying to turn me into one of those philosophers," he laughed. "So now my secret's out, why are you out in the frontiers?"

"It's a long story," she smiled, "and rather boring for a soldier."

"Maybe not for a philosopher," he countered, as he indicated to a servant that Vipsania might need more wine. "There's no knowing what a philosopher could be interested in."

So she told him about her father's need to be out of Rome, away from Little Boots. Pannonian wine seemed to be as good a reason as any. As to why she was there, frankly it was more important for her to be away from Little Boots, who had apparently decided it was his solemn duty to deflower virgins.

"It can't be that bad," Gaius said, although not totally with conviction.

"It is," she replied. "In fact, Little Boots has ordered my father back to Rome, and believe me, Little Boots has no interest at all in Pannonian wine." She shuddered.

"Then you stay here while your father goes back," Gaius shrugged.

"You think that's safer?" she queried. "It's the frontier, and . . ."

"If you can avoid silly rides in the country, nobody will touch you." He paused, then added, "I'll put the word around that you're under my protection. Everyone knows that as
Legatus
I can most certainly provide protection and impose retribution."

"I'll see what father has to say," she replied.

They discussed the trivia of Roman society for a few minutes, until an older man with a stern expression stepped up.

"Claudius! You would rather chatter with a young woman than speak to me?"

"He saved my life, Governor!" Vipsania interrupted before Gaius could reply. "I felt I had to thank him, and . . ."

"I was dazzled by her beauty," Gaius interrupted, "then further dazzled by her wit and intelligence, but . . ."

"That's all right, young Claudius," the Governor laughed, and the stern expression melted away. "Of course you prefer to be with a young woman. Just make sure you behave!" and he gave a wink to Vipsania. The he turned back to Gaius and said, "I understand you have an expedition in mind across the river?"

"Yes sir."

"Tell me what you're thinking?"

So Gaius explained where his planning had reached so far.

"You think an expedition at this time of the year's wise?"

"I think it would send the wrong message if I don't."

"It would also send the wrong message if you fail!" Plautius warned. "I don't want to hear of a disaster."

"I can't guarantee to succeed," Gaius said simply, "but unless that raid is punished, there'll be many more. Also, the senate has a standing order . . ."

"I know the standing orders," Plautius frowned. "You wish to go yourself rather than send a Tribune?"

"It's my idea, so it's my responsibility."

"I see." Plautius was clearly surprised. "Then take the first and third cohorts, and bring them back!"

"Thank you, Governor."

"It's you I've got to thank," Plautius shrugged. "Saving the life of young Vipsania saved me a hell of a lot of explaining to the
Princeps
. I doubt you have any idea of the paper work that would be involved." He paused, and added, "I'll let Caesar know that you've saved the life of a Roman citizen of senatorial class and a personal acquaintance of his," Plautius laughed. Then he became more serious, and added, "Don't knock it! You'll earn another decoration, and these days, the more decorations, the safer you are. Caesar genuinely respects military heroes."

Or fears them, Gaius thought to himself, and then dismissed the thought. That was treasonable. If Rome had a bad leader, Romans had to live with that. The alternative, the military taking action to select the ruler, would lead to chaos and the fall of Rome.

"Now, young Claudius, some further instructions. What do you know of the political scene east of the Danube?"

"Not much," Gaius had to admit.

"To the north of Pannonia there's a tribe called the Quadi, under a king called Vannius. Now, by and large Vannius is on reasonably friendly terms with Rome, but much of his cavalry comes from the Iazyges. Now, word of what you do will get up there, and if you make a right proper mess of things, the northern border could also erupt."

"I'll try not to make a mess, Governor."

"There are various messes. Fail to impose any authority and you encourage further raids. On the other hand, if you engage in massive unnecessary pillage or killing, you generate anger, and a desire for revenge. Yes, a punitive mission is required, but make sure it is appropriate."

"Of course, Governor."

"Oh, and one more thing, young Claudius. You realize winter's coming?"

"That's why I want to get started," Gaius replied. "If I don't do it soon, it'll be very difficult to do it at all."

"That's true," Plautius said, "but that's not what I meant. The standing orders are that the Legion winters at its base at Burnum. This place here is just a camp, and . . ."

"The men deserve better than to be out here for no better reason than the
Legatus
forgot there's somewhere better. I'll arrange for the Tribunes who aren't involved in the raid to get it organized."

* * *

Two days later two centuries sequentially made an early forced march to the bridge. As Gaius remarked to Vipsania, soldiers required exercise, and exercises might as well be carried out in such a way as to provide a young lady with protection. While there, he arranged the weights on a flat board and offered Vipsania the chance to drop them by tipping the board.

"That's remarkable," Vipsania said, finally.

"And you thought the answer was obvious," Gaius chided.