Douglas Jackson: Enemy of Rome

Titus nodded carefully. ‘I will think on that; we can discuss it more fully later. Now, you must leave me. I have letters to write to my father and my brother Domitianus.’ He was already reaching for his stylus and missed Valerius’s startled reaction. Titus’s brother was Valerius’s rival for the affections of Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo’s daughter, and the last time they’d met Valerius had threatened to remove certain parts of Domitianus’s anatomy and make him eat them. ‘He is trapped in Rome, but under the protection of my uncle Sabinus. I-’

A bustle of activity from the doorway made Titus look up, and Valerius turned as a heavy-set, older man in a legate’s sculpted breastplate and red sash entered the tent. Titus smiled a welcome. ‘Marcus Antonius Primus, commander of the Danuvius legions.’

The big man nodded, but a frown shadowed his face as he noticed Valerius for the first time.

‘Don’t I know you?’

‘I do not believe I have been able to convince him.’ Titus outlined his problem the next day as his entourage prepared to leave for the East. He kept his voice so low Valerius had to strain to catch the words. ‘My father did not wish to give a direct order to a commander in the field, because he is aware how quickly conditions can change and opportunities arise. In an experienced and thoughtful general that would be well enough, but Primus is a gambler by nature. My greatest fear is that his impetuosity could place this army in danger. We can win, Valerius. We will win. But to do that we must husband our resources, and the battle-tested troops of the Danuvius frontier are our greatest asset.’ He looked Valerius in the eye and his next words contained a challenge. ‘I rely on you to be my agent in this.’

Valerius almost laughed. ‘What makes you think Marcus Antonius Primus will listen to me? The man blames me for destroying his career. Even with Serpentius watching my back I’ll be lucky to last a week without having my throat slit or hemlock slipped into my wine. What was it he said when he recognized me?’ He shook his head at the memory of Primus’s violent reaction; the bulging eyes, the purple distended features, the hands that had twitched for his throat. ‘“If I had known you were in Aquila’s custody I would have had you strung up by your own intestines and personally lit the fire beneath your feet.” Those aren’t the words of someone who’ll thank me for giving him military advice.’

Titus smiled. ‘It’s true his initial reaction wasn’t encouraging, but I’ve spoken to him. He’s not a fool, Valerius. He knows this campaign is his opportunity to return to high office, but the only way he’ll ever wear a consul’s toga and march behind twelve lictors is if he wins victories. I’ve told him my father values your services, and that he should keep you close for your knowledge of Vitellius and his generals. He understands the importance of your experiences at Placentia and Bedriacum. Your rank of tribunus laticlavius is restored and the Spaniard appointed your servant and personal bodyguard. Primus will never like you, Valerius, but he will be happy to use you. As long as you are of use to him, he’ll keep you alive.’

‘It’ll be like being chained to a tiger with toothache.’ Valerius knew he protested in vain. ‘And the outcome is likely to be just as painful.’

The other man laughed. ‘Yes, that would sum it up rather well. But Gaius Valerius Verrens has experience of riding tigers. You survived Nero’s enmity while men like Corbulo and Seneca were swept away. You alone paved the way for Galba’s march on Rome. Who else but Gaius Valerius Verrens would have dared to demand that Aulus Vitellius give up the purple?’ Valerius stifled a denial. They both knew Titus was exaggerating. He had survived Nero by fleeing with Vespasian’s help. Other men had guided Galba to the throne. Honour and duty had dictated he must approach Vitellius, but he had not been alone. None of that mattered. He was here and he was available. Titus placed a hand on his right arm. ‘I would not ask this of anyone else, Valerius.’

A young aide announced that the preparations were complete and Valerius accompanied Vespasian’s son to his horse.

‘I haven’t made my oath to your father,’ he reminded him.

‘And he would not demand it.’ Titus smiled. ‘He knows he is not the Emperor until he has convinced the Senate and the people to affirm it. We will make that pledge together on the day he dons the purple and Valerius Verrens receives the honours he deserves.’ As the escort moved off he leaned down from the saddle and whispered, ‘Tame the tiger for me, Valerius.’

‘Let me be very clear.’ Marcus Antonius Primus sniffed his contempt. ‘I would rather feed you to my dogs than have you on my staff.’

Valerius held the other man’s poisonous stare during the long pause that followed. The last time he’d looked into those eyes had been during his brief return to the law after returning from Britannia. He’d been selected to prosecute three senators on a charge of falsifying a will and forcing it on an elderly man. The evidence against Primus, and his fellow defendants Valerius Fabianus and Vincius Rufus, had been overwhelming, and though they tried every trick, legal and otherwise, to have the case dismissed, they were found guilty. All three were already rich and the only motive for the crime was naked greed. They’d been dismissed from the Senate under Lex Cornelia Testamentaria and banished from Rome. Nero’s death and the short-lived rule of Galba had seen Primus reinstated and given a legionary command. Aulus Vitellius had been one of the senators who had banished him, which forced him to throw in his lot with first Otho, and now Vespasian. The headquarters tent seemed to strain with the power of his anger, and for a moment Valerius thought the general would break the metal stylus in his hand.

Eventually Primus managed to regain control. ‘However, I am a servant of Rome, and if I am to ensure Vespasian takes his rightful place as Emperor I must use every weapon at my disposal, no matter how distasteful. Your rank and privileges as senior military tribune are confirmed.’ Valerius bowed his thanks for this grudging concession as Primus continued: ‘You know the false Emperor Vitellius personally?’

‘I served with him in Africa,’ Valerius admitted.

‘And your assessment of his military capabilities?’

Valerius almost smiled. His old friend Vitellius’s greatest military capability was to eat a full century’s rations at a single sitting and still be demanding more. ‘He is no soldier,’ he said, ‘but no fool either. He will leave the fighting to his generals.’

The legate nodded slowly. ‘And who commands, Valens or Caecina?’

‘I believe neither will willingly yield to the other. Both have an equal influence on the Emp- on Vitellius and he chooses not to choose between them for fear of alienating the one or the other. Caecina Alienus is a charming rogue who milked his province of Baetica dry and would have been prosecuted’ — he saw Primus wince at the hated word — ‘but for Galba’s death. I have never met Fabius Valens, but I know him by reputation. A hard man and a good soldier who personally cut the head from the former governor of Germania Inferior. The only thing that unites them is their ambition.’

Primus chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘And which is the greater threat?’ Valerius remembered a short-lived negotiation before the walls of Placentia; Caecina, flamboyant in his colourful barbarian costume, a wild excitement in his eyes, his beautiful wife at his side. ‘Valens,’ he said emphatically. ‘At Placentia, Caecina should have waited until he deployed his artillery. Instead, he threw his best men at strong stone walls without support and lost thousands. I doubt he has the patience or the wisdom to be a great commander.’ He hesitated, waiting for a reaction to what could have been a criticism of the man before him, but Primus didn’t respond and he continued: ‘Bedriacum was Valens’ victory. He fought a clever battle over difficult terrain and used his reserves skilfully. With enough men, Caecina could hurt you, but Valens could destroy you.’