Anthony Riches - Wounds of Honour

He paused for a moment and looked the younger man square in the eye, as if weighing up his state of mind.

‘And now, Centurion, there are things you have to know before we leave this place. None of them are pleasant, but then you find yourself in a difficult place with very limited options. You must fully understand your situation before you can decide how to face it.’

Marcus met his gaze with a level stare.

‘I’ve been sent across Oceanus to the very edge of the world on a fool’s errand, ambushed twice in two days by men I do not know intent on my murder, and informed in casual terms of the downfall of my father, previously a respected senator of Rome. I’m not sure you can make that picture very much bleaker, Tiberius Rufius, but if there’s more to tell then I am ready.’

‘Bravely put, Valerius Aquila. And you can drop the formalities. My forename is Quintus, and I’d be proud to count you as a close enough friend to use it. Now then, where to start? Legatus Sollemnis received a message from your father twenty days ago, stating that he feared for your family’s safety in the current political climate in Rome. The senator wrote to warn Sollemnis of his decision to have you sent as far away from Rome as possible. He asked Sollemnis to hide you away from his enemies, as a last favour to a friend. This, of course, was no idle request — he was asking his friend to defy the throne and harbour a man who would swiftly be named as a traitor.

‘When I met with Sollemnis last evening it was already clear to him that Tigidius Perennis would be his main problem. You’ve probably guessed by now that he’s the son of your praetorian prefect, a man closer to the throne than you may know. What you don’t know is that his appointment as a tribune on the Sixth’s staff was imposed on Sollemnis last year. At the time he took it as a clear signal that Emperor Commodus, or at least the men who stand behind him, intended to be assured of his loyalty. After all, three legions and a dozen auxiliary cohorts is a lot of spears, the biggest single concentration of troops in the entire empire, and that could be an irresistible temptation to a man of the senatorial class with ambition. Sollemnis mistakenly thought that Perennis had simply been appointed to spy on his actions, but since his arrival this new tribune’s actions have gone well beyond simple spying. He’s subverted the Asturian cavalry to do his dirty work, and Sollemnis is convinced that he’s planning to take command of the legion if ever he gets the chance.’

Marcus raised a sceptical eyebrow.

‘A tribune? Unseat an imperial general officer? How likely is that?’

‘With the right authority? With a scroll of authority embossed with the correct seals, and with the legion’s most senior officers in no doubt as to their fate if they jumped the wrong way? Easier than you might think, I’d say. When, at the right time, Tigidius Perennis brings out his letter of authority, complete with the imperial seal, half a dozen men find themselves harking back to quiet conversations with the man. Flattery, offers of promotion and veiled threats to loved ones from a clever young man of the highest influence and absolutely no scruples. I’d put good money on Sollemnis finding himself at the wrong end of the spear very quickly in such a situation. He knows that he has very good reason to behave in a manner that provides no opportunity for Perennis to make his move.

‘So, the legatus originally thought that it would be relatively simple to send you across to the Twentieth Legion at Deva, under the supervision of their legatus, if he could just keep you from Perennis’s attention. The Twentieth’s man owes him a favour or two, apparently. A second messenger arrived, two days ago, an urgent dispatch from Rome, and carried by a courier I’ve met a few times before. Once I got a few drinks into him he was happy enough to discuss the stories he’d heard around the palace before he left. Your father had been arrested for the crime of conspiracy against the throne, and was… questioned on your disappearance, but even in extremis refused to give any clue as to your whereabouts. All they could wring out of him, after days of suffering, was that he’d sent you to the ends of the empire, out of their reach. His remains were scattered for the crows, denied the burial rites to avoid there being any rallying point for your family’s supporters. You should be proud of him, Marcus Valerius Aquila; by dying in such ignominy, but with such dignity, he brought great honour to your name. But suspicion obviously fell on your tribune, and he told Commodus’s men everything they wanted to know as soon as they came for him. Hoping to save himself from torture, it seems. Fool. It would have been easier on him if he’d just fallen on his own sword while he had the chance. The elder Perennis was so furious that you slipped from his grasp just as he was ready to move on your family, he had his thugs torture Tribune Scarus to death just trying to prove his story false.

‘The instructions from Rome were simple enough. As far as Sollemnis was concerned, you were to be detained and returned to the capital at the first opportunity, day or night. A private message for Perennis was delivered by the same courier, and it wasn’t too hard to guess what orders that contained. Once the senior officer at Dark Pool fortress reported you as being on the road to Yew Grove, I was sent south in secret to find you. I was to provide you with whatever protection I could until you reached the city. In the meantime Sollemnis decided to take five cohorts out into the country on a no-warning exercise, to avoid your walking into the fortress before he was ready to receive you. He knew I’d keep you out of trouble until he got back.

‘When he arrived back at Yew Grove late last night, Sollemnis had no choice but to “deal with you”, and provide clear evidence of his loyalty to the throne, but he had time to set me to work again, preparing your escape from the death that Titus Tigidius Perennis had planned for you…’

Rufius looked at him for a long moment before reaching out a hand, patting his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance that was not mirrored in his troubled eyes.

‘Marcus, there comes a moment in every man’s life when he must shoulder the full burden of his fate, accept his own death or, worse, the death of those he loves. This, I regret, is your moment. Read the scroll you were ordered to bring here.’

Marcus cut away the protective wax seal and opened the box containing his father’s last message, turning the unrolled parchment to the morning’s slowly brightening eastern horizon. My son, may the gods have remained with you, you are by now safe in northern Britannia, and far distant from the throne’s vengeance. You are reading this message at the suggestion of the man to whom I have entrusted your fate. By the time you reach Britannia, I expect that Commodus and his supporters will have laid formal charges of treason at our family’s door. I will have been tortured for information as to your whereabouts, then killed without ceremony or hearing. I can only hope that my persecutors will have been kinder with your mother and our other children and relatives, although I doubt it. This emperor brings evil out from under the stones that have long concealed it, and few men display less honour in their deeds than your praetorian prefect, Perennis. Whatever the ugly detail of their ending, our kindred will be taken and killed out of hand, our honour publicly denounced, and our line almost brought to an abrupt full stop. You are almost certainly all that remains of our blood.

My purpose in bribing your tribune to send you to my friend is a simple one. He will, I am confident, undertake to send you deeper into that harsh and difficult country and hide you among his friends, out of sight of the throne’s hunting dogs. I apologise gravely for not sharing my intention with you, as should have been the case between men. Your sense of honour, so carefully instilled by years of patient teaching, would only have tripped you before you could fly. Our conversation on the night of your sister’s birthday proved to me that you had no comprehension of the fate looming over our proud house. I chose therefore to make your flight one that required no such understanding.