Rome's Lost Son (14 page)

‘This is right on the border between Armenia and the Parthian Empire. Tigranocerta is a frontier town that guards the Sapphe Bezabde pass through these mountains into Parthia; what better way to provoke the Parthians than firstly to burn Amida close to the border and then to occupy and rebuild a fortified city actually looking out over their lands.’

Magnus turned to the south. ‘You mean beyond those mountains is Parthia.’

Vespasian surveyed the peaks above them. ‘Yes, if you climbed to the top then as far as you could see and miles, miles further than that is all Parthia. Tryphaena showed me a map and there was hardly anything on it after these mountains, just the Tigris and Euphrates that flow all the way to the sea from where you can sail to India. Almost all the cities are on one of those two rivers but between them is desert.’ He pointed southwest. ‘A hundred miles in that direction is Carrhae where we lost seven Eagles in one battle, and then fifty miles west of that is the frontier of the province of Syria. Across those mountains is where Rome’s influence stops; if the Great King sees us on his border he’ll send an army to try to dislodge us and take Armenia back.’

‘And Paelignus will be responsible for starting a war and you might have some nasty questions to answer.’

‘No, I’m not here officially; if I’m ever asked, King Polemon is prepared to vouch that I was in Pontus all summer using it as a base for my negotiations with Radamistus.’

‘But he’s invading Armenia from the north.’

‘No, he’s not; he’s staying where he is on his sister’s advice. I told Paelignus that to make him feel safe, to ensure that he would bring his forces in. Paelignus will get the blame for starting this war, but as he’s an old friend of Claudius’ he’ll probably survive.’

With the long, low rumble of cornu two of the auxiliary cohorts moved forward as, from either side, the forty cart-mounted carroballistae of the army began to hail down missiles onto the scantily defended walls. From within the town came a great wailing as thousands of people despaired for their lives. The braver, steadier inhabitants shot arrows and slingshot towards
the oncoming troops to little effect: many of them fell back, headless, in sprays of blood, decapitated by well-aimed artillery.

With their oval shields raised, the auxiliary soldiers of Rome came on at a steady, silent march as the practically defenceless town lay helpless before them.

Vespasian could see from Magnus’ expression that he was totally confused by the reasoning behind this needless slaughter. ‘We have to fight Parthia sooner or later, we always do, every thirty years or so. But rather than doing so on the defensive, trying to stop them from taking Syria and gaining access to Our Sea, it would be better to have the war on neutral territory as it were. We’ll have less to lose and just as much to gain,’ he explained.

‘But it could take two years or so for Parthia to muster her armies.’

Vespasian watched as the first of the scaling ladders were raised against the walls and troops began to swarm up them. ‘No, they’ll be here in a couple of months; in fact we saw their scouts on that hill just three days ago. Tryphaena really did have King Polemon send a message to Ctesiphon telling the Great King exactly what we were going to do.’

As the first auxiliaries made it onto the wall, the gates opened in a futile attempt to surrender; but peace did not come to the town, only death, and showing it the way was a crooked little man with an unbloodied sword.

Paelignus was having his first taste of glory.

Vespasian and Magnus coaxed their horses past the gates and onwards into a town veiled in smoke and steeped in misery and death. Throughout the narrow streets auxiliaries rampaged, hunting booty, both live and inanimate. Bodies were strewn left and right, broken, pierced, blood-drenched and almost exclusively male. Their womenfolk shrieked and pleaded for mercy as they were tracked down and subjected to the brutal fate that always awaited females in a captured town. Those considered too old to stir carnal passions within the troops were despatched summarily; only babes and infants were considered too young and were likewise doomed.

Huddles of soldiery formed round screaming victims, ripping off their clothes, holding them down and cheering on their comrades as they mounted and rode the spoils of war. Each man hungrily awaited his turn to defile the thrashing wenches who cursed and spat at the persecutors pumping away at them, slapping their faces in vain attempts to quieten their hissing rage.

Those auxiliaries whose lust had been sated guzzled wine and roamed through the town with drawn swords and burning torches, raising fires with heedless recklessness and slaughtering the elderly and the young in the same casual manner.

‘It’ll take a lot to calm the lads down after this,’ Magnus muttered as they passed a group of drunken soldiery urinating into the mouth of a barely conscious teenage girl whose hideous ordeal could be measured by the bruising and welts on her face and naked body, as well as by the pool of blood that had seeped from between her legs.

Vespasian forced himself to watch the final act in the girl’s life as one of the auxiliaries shook the drops from his penis, adjusted his dress, then took his sword and thrust it into her mouth; blood sprayed, diluted by urine, and the soldiers laughed as they wandered off in search of similar sport. ‘Just as long as enough of the populace survive to be able to spread the news of what this little Roman army is capable of doing,’ he muttered, urging his horse on up the main street that bisected the town from the western gate to the eastern one. ‘Now I need to find Paelignus and impress upon him the need to push on with all due haste in this glorious campaign of liberation that he has embarked upon.’

Magnus took one last look at the dead girl and then followed. ‘Now he’s got the taste for it, I imagine that it’ll be hard to hold him back.’

‘I’ll rest my soldiers for two days,’ Paelignus announced from behind a vulgarly large desk to his cohort prefects and their senior centurions as Vespasian and Magnus were shown into the grandiose chamber. The stooped general had commandeered the most impressive house in the town for himself. ‘After such a
gruelling victory they deserve rest and recuperation. There’ll be no parades or drills, all fatigues are excused and all outstanding disciplinary charges dropped, double rations of both food and wine are to be issued for both days and sentry duty and patrols should be set at the bare minimum.’ If Paelignus had expected his senior officers to applaud his sensitivity towards his rampaging troops he was much mistaken: his declaration was met with barely concealed disgust both for his orders and his appearance. Paelignus, however, seemed unaware of his staff’s derision; he rose from his chair, placed his fists on the desk and thrust his face towards his subordinates. ‘Any questions?’

‘Yes, sir,’ a balding prefect of auxiliary infantry barked, stepping forward and crashing to attention.

Paelignus sighed with irritation. ‘What is it this time, Mammius?’

‘How can my centurions and optiones keep discipline if you excuse all fatigues and drop all outstanding charges just because we’ve taken a town?’

‘This was an outstanding victory, prefect.’

Mammius was unable to contain himself. ‘No, procurator, it was not; my grandmother and four-score hags of equal age could have taken this place armed only with their distaffs. Where was the defending garrison? Where are their bodies now that we’ve scaled the walls and stormed through their gates? Surely we should be able to see dead men in some sort of uniform with armour and helmets?’

‘We were shot at by arrows; men threw javelins at us!’

‘Civic Militia!’ Mammius bawled. ‘A rabble incapable of doing anything more than hurling a few sticks before bravely running away only to be caught and butchered up alleyways. They even opened the gates for us; but you didn’t call the troops back. And now you want to threaten the cohesion of our cohorts by rewarding them for rape and slaughter when the most danger any of them have been in is from getting a spear up the arse from the man behind them tripping over drunk. I’ve had a report of one single death in my cohort and that was some stupid bugger getting his cock bitten off and bleeding out.’

Paelignus’ mouth opened and shut for a few moments in speechless outrage at the force of the prefect’s diatribe. ‘How dare you shout at me, prefect! I’m a friend of the Emperor.’

‘No, Paelignus, you’re the butt of the Emperor’s jokes as you are the butt of ours.’

‘I think, Paelignus,’ Vespasian said in a conciliatory manner, walking further into the room, ‘that we should sit down and consider the situation in a calm and logical fashion.’

Paelignus’ outrage persisted. ‘And what gives you the right to walk in here uninvited and tell me what to do?’

‘Military experience, Paelignus; something that you evidently lack, as Mammius was only trying gently and politely to make clear to you. Now sit back down.’ He glared at Paelignus until he sat with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘Good; now listen to me: Mammius is right. There is no conceivable way that today’s farce could be called a glorious victory, Paelignus; therefore the troops do not deserve two days’ rest nor do they deserve all the other rubbish that you were suggesting, much to the amusement of all listening, no doubt. I suggest that you rein in the men immediately, get them out of the town, build a camp and give them the night to sober up before marching on to Tigranocerta in the morning. In the meantime, Paelignus, why don’t you strip this house of all that’s valuable and have it loaded onto the baggage train so that you can start to pay off the debts that your
friend
the Emperor saddled you with as you tried to ingratiate yourself with him, playing dice.’

Paelignus’ sharp-featured face drew back into an ugly leer. ‘That’s already being done, Vespasian, as well as all the other houses of value; that’s why I need two days.’

‘You haven’t got two days; I suggest you leave tomorrow.’

‘I give the orders here!’

‘No, Paelignus; you just take the credit and the plunder.’ He turned to the assembled staff who were having difficulty in hiding their shock that a man whose presence they had been only vaguely aware of on the expedition should exercise such control over their commander. ‘I believe that you gentlemen would also deem it wise to move first thing in the morning
rather than let the men lose discipline over the next couple of days.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Mammius replied; his colleagues nodded dumbly.

Vespasian walked to an open door and passed through it onto the terrace beyond, looking north towards the heart of Armenia. ‘Have patrols range out along the border keeping parallel with us as we move east. They’re to keep their wits about them and not infringe upon Parthian territory.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Mammius said, frowning. ‘But on whose authority do you take command?’

‘I’m not taking command, prefect, in fact I’m not even here – officially. I’m just making suggestions that Paelignus will no doubt want to take up. Isn’t that right, Paelignus?’

The procurator did not deny it.

‘Good. See that the patrols go out and pull the men back into order; execute a few of them just to sober the others up. And we are going to need them sober, gentlemen; because when news of what happened here today gets to the Parthian army that is already marching towards us they are going to increase their pace. We need to be safely behind the walls of Tigranocerta when they arrive, otherwise we’ll find ourselves outnumbered on a battlefield and, soon after, quite probably dead.’ Vespasian smiled at the uncomprehending expressions that greeted that news. ‘Yes, gentlemen, I know; the walls of Tigranocerta have not been rebuilt since the last Parthian war as a condition in the peace treaty. But the peace treaty also specified that Rome would not take any troops into Armenia; something that Paelignus neglected to think about in his haste to gain favour with the Emperor and restore Rome’s influence here.’

‘You told me to!’ Paelignus shrieked, pointing an accusatory, shaking, chewed finger at Vespasian.

‘No, Paelignus, all I did was to suggest that while there was a period of instability in our client kingdom of Armenia it might be wise to keep an eye on its southern border with Parthia. I’m not the procurator of Cappadocia, I had no authority to order an invasion, because that’s what it is, isn’t it? You commanded it, you assembled the troops and you’ve led them. Now I suggest
that having broken the treaty with Parthia you garrison Tigranocerta to prevent it falling to our old enemy. It’s either that or return to Cappadocia having prodded the Parthian beast and giving it a good reason to go into an undefended Armenia. Not even your close relationship with the Emperor would get you out of that mess.’ Vespasian turned to leave. ‘I suggest you get busy, Paelignus.’

‘Are you ever going to explain to me just what you’re trying to achieve?’ Magnus hissed as he followed Vespasian out of the room.

‘Yes,’ Vespasian replied without venturing any further information.

‘When?’

They walked in silence down the corridor past gangs of slaves stripping the building of anything valuable under the supervision of the auxiliary quartermasters. Vespasian tutted with regret that Paelignus was enriching himself with such ease but he knew that was the price to be paid for the procurator’s folly that would advance Tryphaena’s ambitions in Armenia. Besides, he would not possess his new wealth for long. What mattered was that Paelignus’ greed and vanity had driven him to sack a peaceful town that was part of a kingdom allied to Rome in direct contravention of all treaties with both Armenia and Parthia. News of the outrage would spread and condemnation would come from all sides. With one rash act the procurator had given Parthia a just cause for war and also given Radamistus reason to appeal to the Emperor in protest at Rome’s unprovoked attack.

‘Tryphaena’s objective is to secure her nephew Radamistus on the Armenian throne,’ Vespasian informed Magnus.

‘Then she’s got a strange way of going about it, getting you to persuade the procurator of a Roman province to invade, even if it is with a piss-poor little army.’