Douglas Jackson: Avenger of Rome

His head spun. Gaius Valerius Verrens, Hero of Rome, is to assume the rank of senior military tribune. And with Corbulo, Rome’s greatest general. The man who had outfought and outthought the tribes of Germania and whose feats of engineering had astounded the Empire. So why did he feel as if he held a squirming viper? He looked up and sensed the almost mocking glint in the granite-chip eyes that surveyed him from beneath Paulinus’s heavy brows.

‘The appointment does not please you?’

Valerius stared at the older man. ‘It pleases me well enough, but the method of delivery surprises me. I ask myself why a serving consul of Rome should rise before dawn and ride six miles to convey a routine message from the Palatium that could have been delivered at any time by imperial courier.’

‘Call it an old comrade’s whim,’ Paulinus suggested, the pale lips curving upwards in a parody of a smile.

‘Call it a trap. If you are going to play games with me, consul, perhaps it would be better if you left now.’ Valerius kept his tone unforgiving and he allowed his eyes to stray to the sword. ‘I am no longer the boy you knew.’

Paulinus’s rasping laugh surprised him. ‘So the pup has not lost his fangs. Yes,’ he admitted, ‘there is more, but I doubt it will give you any greater pleasure. A direct order from the Emperor to his subject which must be delivered by someone trusted by both and conveyed by word of mouth only. It is this.’ The consul’s voice hardened, along with the eyes. ‘Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo is suspected of overstepping the powers of imperium granted him in the east by his Emperor. While you are on his staff you will compile a report on his activities and those of his senior officers. That report will be thorough and objective and when it is completed you will find a way to get it into my hands.’

‘You are asking me to spy?’

Paulinus sniffed. ‘I am told you have some talents in that direction.’

‘That was different.’ Valerius remembered his pursuit of Petrus, the Christian leader, two years earlier. ‘The man was an enemy of the state. General Corbulo is…’

‘Successful, quite ruthless and utterly vain, and that vanity makes him certain of his infallibility. So certain that he believes he can overrule the Emperor’s advisers and follow his own policy in Armenia and Cappadocia. If that suggestion is confirmed it may be that Corbulo will be withdrawn, perhaps even retired.’ The words contained a hint of satisfaction and Valerius was reminded of something else: that before his disgrace, Suetonius Paulinus had vied with Corbulo for the position of Rome’s paramount general. ‘It will not be an easy assignment. Corbulo has friends in the Palatium and at court. He may well hear of your mission and, if he does, he will try to delay you or stop you entirely.’ Paulinus hesitated and the younger man noticed the unnecessary emphasis his visitor placed on the last three words. ‘The task requires a man of resource and courage, but Gaius Valerius Verrens has proved himself to be such a man in the past. Your Emperor has every faith in you.’

If his situation hadn’t been so perilous, Valerius would have laughed at the blatant flattery. Instead, he said: ‘I am honoured by the Emperor’s confidence in my abilities, but I do not believe I have the capacity to complete this mission successfully. I am a simple soldier, without the… subtlety required. He has other men, better qualified than I, he can call upon, I’m sure.’ He stood, but Paulinus remained seated and fury flared like a flash of lightning in his eyes. Boudicca’s conqueror might be a consul in name only, but he still had power and knew how to use it.

‘You forget yourself, young man. I can think of a dozen others who would cut off their right arms for the chance to prove their faith to the Emperor.’ He cast a contemptuous glance at the carved wooden fist that had replaced Valerius’s right hand. ‘They now lie in the depths of the Palatine awaiting his pleasure.’ Paulinus had raised his voice and it must have been a signal because Valerius heard scuffling behind him. He turned to find Olivia held by two of Paulinus’s bodyguards — a helpless, waif-like figure shivering with fear. ‘It would take but a single word and the family of Verrens would join them. Do not think we are unaware of the conflicting loyalties within this house. You cannot hide from reality for ever, as you have hidden here from those who could have linked you to the traitor Piso’s cause. Consuls, senators and knights have been imprisoned and tortured, their families forced to take poison. Your old mentor, Seneca. Did you believe your isolation freed you from his taint? Gaius Valerius Verrens should know better than most men that there are no innocents on the battlefield, and that in a fight to the death those who believe otherwise will be crushed.’ For a moment, Valerius considered making a grab for the sword lying so conveniently at Paulinus’s right hand, but he knew that even if he reached it Olivia would be dead before he could turn. Paulinus saw his glance and smiled. ‘Think yourself fortunate that you have been given the luxury of choice.’

The reality was that there had never been any choice, and they both knew it. Paulinus nodded as Valerius acknowledged his defeat and Olivia protested as she was taken from the room.

‘She will be safe under the Emperor’s protection while you are in Antioch. You understand your orders?’

The answer was no, but the word that emerged from Valerius’s mouth was ‘Yes’.

Paulinus rose to his feet. ‘You will visit the Palatium where they will be explained to you in more detail. Methods of communication. Friends you may depend on and those to avoid.’ Valerius turned to go, but Paulinus wasn’t finished with him. ‘It is possible that your investigations may uncover something more than mere vanity and over-enthusiasm at Corbulo’s headquarters.’ He paused to allow the full significance of his words to register. ‘Should that be the case, you may be required to take further, more direct, action.’ He picked up the sword with the silver hilt and placed it in the younger man’s left hand. ‘Do we understand each other?’

Valerius nodded, because the words would have choked him.

Yes, they understood each other.

If he discovered any link between Rome’s greatest general and the Piso conspiracy he would become Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo’s executioner.

Valerius twitched the reins to steer the big gelding around a stationary cart. Portus, which Emperor Claudius had begun building at the Tiber mouth almost twenty years earlier and was still only half completed, must be the busiest port in the world, he thought. It was a bustling place of trade and commerce where wagons and packhorses thronged the streets and smaller boats scuttled like water beetles among the stately giants loading up for the grain convoys to the east. They had to ask twice before they were eventually directed to where their ship was docked.

‘By Mars’ sacred arse, will you look at that.’

Valerius reined the horse to a stop and followed his companion’s eye towards the vessel that waited to carry them to Syria. He would have expected a well-worn cargo ship, or at best a fast military galley to transport General Corbulo’s new second in command to his posting. This was anything but. It was larger than any normal merchant vessel, forty paces from elegant bow to angular stern, with a breadth of perhaps ten or twelve where the hull bellied out like a pregnant sow between them. Astonishingly, the ship was painted a bright gold, so that it shone like a jewel in the sunlight. The figure of a swan with wings outstretched was carved above the bowsprit. A substantial curtained awning had been set up behind the single central mast and a pair of twin steering oars projected from below a platform in the stern. As they watched, lines of slaves hurried up the gangplanks carrying assorted sacks and amphorae.