The Last Battle Read online

  AGENT OF ROME

  THE LAST BATTLE

  Nick Brown

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  For the Readers

  Contents

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  XVI

  XVII

  XVIII

  XIX

  XX

  XXI

  XXII

  XXIII

  XXIV

  XXV

  XXVI

  XXVII

  XXVIII

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgments

  Q and A

  TIME

  The Romans divided day and night into twelve hours each, so the length of an hour varied according to the time of year.

  The seventh hour always began at midday.

  MONEY

  Four sesterces (a coin made of brass) were worth one denarius.

  Twenty-five denarii (a coin made partially of silver) were worth one aureus (partially gold).

  Volosus looked down at the wolves.

  Grey, lanky beasts with pale, curious eyes. Occasionally one of them would snap at another or unleash a plaintive howl. They were five yards below where Volosus stood, at the bottom of a small timber-lined pit previously used for prisoner fights. One animal with more brown in its fur than the others lay down then instantly got up again. Another was trying to bite its own tail. Captivity seemed to be driving them mad.

  'Weren't there six?'

  Bibulus had just joined his superior at the edge of the pit. 'There were, sir. Apparently, one got ill last week.'

  'And how long since they’ve been fed?'

  'Nine days.'

  'Good.' Volosus looked to the west; the watery sun had sunk close to the treetops. 'We should make a start before we lose the light. Four men, yes?'

  'Four, sir.' Bibulus scratched at a sore on his cheek.

  'How likely is it that they would know something?'

  'They're not talking but they're from the second century of the third cohort; so they were at the fort when our man carried out his inspection.'

  'Any ranks?'

  'Yes, sir. A guard officer.'

  'Leave him until last.'

  Bibulus walked away towards the only building in the clearing, an old outhouse of timber and thatch. Volosus headed the other way, to the tree where his horse was tethered. The forest was growing cold so he pulled his cloak out of a saddlebag and put it on. After a long swig of watered wine, he strode back to the pit.

  Bibulus and Caudex – one of his subordinates – dragged the first prisoner out. Dazed and mumbling, the man looked warily up at the arm of the crane that stretched out over the pit. Bibulus pushed him down onto his knees.

  Volosus tucked his thumbs into his belt as he approached. 'My man here tells me no one's talking but I'm sure you’ve heard the howling. They’re hungry. So why don't we start with your name?'

  The legionary didn't look much older than twenty. He glanced up at Volosus then fixed his eyes on the ground.

  'Loyalty? Even now? Most unwise.’

  'He's shaking,' observed Bibulus.

  'So he should be.' Volosus squatted in front of the young man. 'Did you see the officer touring the units and the border? What's his name? What did he look like?'

  When no reply came, Volosus sighed and straightened up. He nodded to Bibulus, who instantly pushed the legionary on to his back and jammed a boot into his throat. Caudex fetched the rope attached to the iron ring at the end of the crane arm and began tying it around the legionary's ankles.

  The soldier whispered something to himself.

  'Shall we bring the others out, sir?' asked Bibulus. 'So they can see what awaits.'

  'Not yet. Sometimes what the mind conjures can be more terrible than what the eyes see. Be swift – the light.'

  It took them five minutes to hang him up. The rope ran from the legionary's feet up to the arm, through two blocks and down to a spindle that squeaked at every movement. Despite the fact that he was now looking down at five wolves – every one staring up at him – the legionary still said nothing.

  'You're a brave young man,' remarked Volosus. 'But no one will ever hear of your courage. You will die here. Horribly. And for what? Tell me about the officer. He would have been meeting with all the senior men, inspecting the fortress, checking roads and so on. Well?'

  Blood had rushed into the soldier's head, colouring his face. His body was swaying slightly. He turned so that he could see Volosus.

  'You're all traitors. The gods will strike you down.'

  Volosus aimed a finger at Bibulus, who instantly began to let out the rope. The captive descended in jerking movements, a few inches at a time. The bottom of his tunic had fallen over his body, exposing his pale thighs and white loincloth.

  He was now ten feet from the base of the pit.

  The spindle continued to squeak.

  Nine feet. Eight.

  'They're going to jump,' predicted Caudex.

  'Last chance,' said Bibulus.

  Viewed from above, the leap of the first wolf looked uncanny. It seemed to float for a moment as its jaws opened and its teeth snapped shut. The legionary was fortunate – the two-inch incisors did no more than scrape his forehead.

  But he cried out. And then began to sob.

  The second leap came from another animal. The teeth sank so far into the legionary's scalp that he was almost wrenched from the rope.

  He screamed.

  As blood issued from the wound, Volosus caught Bibulus’s eye.

  'Up. If they get a body, they’ll be useless.'

  Bibulus winched the rope in, lifting the legionary two feet. The captive put a hand to his head but the blood had already stained his flesh up to the wrist. He wasn't speaking or screaming now, just flailing around.

  'Mmm,' said Bibulus, clearly disappointed by this outcome.

  Volosus leaned over the timber surround. 'Legionary, can you hear me?'

  'Y – y – yes.'

  'Then speak, curse you! What do you know? The fort, first week of the month. An officer, high-ranking, not part of your unit.'

  'Y – y – yes … I do remember someone. Take me out of here and I'll tell you.'

  'Wrong way round, I'm afraid. Speak.'

  'He watched our drill. G – something. Galerius? Gabinus?'

  Volosus shook his head. 'There is no man of either of those names on the emperor's staff.'

  'Please – that's all I know. Please, I …'

  The man went limp. As his arms drooped, a thick stream of blood ran down his skull. The wolves crowded round, opening their mouths.

  'Ah, they've a taste for it now,' said Bibulus.

  'Bring him up,' ordered Volosus.

  The second prisoner eyed his dead compatriot as his feet were tied.

  Volosus stood over him. 'You heard what I asked?'

  The legionary nodded. His left eye was barely visible beneath a purple welt.

  'What do you know?'

  'Nothing. I was in the infirmary during the first week of the month.'

  'With what?'

  'A fever. I don't know anything about any new officer at the fort.'

  'We shall see.'

  As he was hauled up and manhandled over the surround, the soldier looked at the dead man again. 'You are not Romans. You are animals.'
>
  'The animals are below you, my friend. They have drunk blood and now they want to taste flesh. Talk swiftly or it shall be yours.'

  'May Mars protect me, may Mars protect me, may Mars protect me.'

  The soldier's words became a chant.

  While turning the winch, Bibulus glanced at his superior. 'Mars would prefer to protect Emperor Tetricus, wouldn't he, sir?'

  'Of course he would.'

  The soldier was twisting as he descended, trying to see the animals below.

  With the growing gloom, Volosus couldn't distinguish the wolves but when the soldier made the mistake of letting an arm hang below his head, one of them leaped.

  The moment seemed to last a long time. With its jaws clamped on the arm, the wolf actually hung there. Volosus heard a crack as the limb dislocated. The legionary shook his body and the animal fell backward, landing on top of another.

  The two beasts sprang at each other, fangs bared, and were soon rolling in the dust.

  'It's all happening now,' observed Bibulus with a chuckle.

  The legionary hadn’t made a sound, despite the two gory punctures in his arm.

  'This is only going to get worse,' said Volosus. 'It'll be your head next.'

  'I told you I was in the infirmary, you stupid, evil piece of shit!'

  'Up,' said Volosus. 'We'll save him for later.'

  The third man had plenty to say. By the time he was hanging over the pit, he had listed five different officers that had apparently visited the fort.

  'That is quite a number,' said Volosus. 'But there are only eight – possibly ten – who the emperor might have chosen for this task and you have not mentioned any of them.'

  'Why then?' wailed the legionary as he was lowered. 'I've said all I know. Why do this? Why?'

  'Perhaps you’re trying to be clever.' Volosus stood with both arms resting on the surround.

  'I beg you, have mercy, sir. I cannot tell what I do not know.'

  Bibulus had not stopped lowering the winch.

  One of the two warring wolves now lay in a corner. The other three were keeping their distance from the victorious animal, whose bloody snout was pointing up. His leap was again prodigious and the snap of his jaws took off several fingers.

  'A little snack,' said Bibulus.

  Shrieking, the legionary brought his mutilated hand up and wedged it in his armpit.

  Volosus was about to walk away and reconsider his strategy when a cry went up from the outhouse.

  'What is it?'

  Bibulus’s second man came out, pushing the fourth captive in front of him.

  'This one's ready to speak, sir.’

  'Is he now?'

  'And this one, sir?' asked Bibulus.

  'Leave him there. We may still need him.'

  Bibulus pulled the dangling captive up two feet and locked off the winch. He and Caudex went to assist with the last prisoner.

  The man with the dislocated arm who had insulted Volosus was lying nearby, still bound. He spat at his tormentor but was short by several feet. Before Volosus could respond, the man rolled onto his back and wailed at the pain. The puncture wounds were surprisingly deep and with his hands tied he could do nothing to staunch the bleeding.

  Bibulus forced the last prisoner down on to his knees. Volosus noted the red ring on the sleeve of his pale tunic. The guard officer was a little older than the others. Even in the murk, his face was strikingly pale.

  'You'll leave the other lads be. I have your word?'

  Volosus nodded.

  'Your word?'

  Volosus tutted. 'I am rapidly losing my patience with you people.'

  'All right. The only man I can think of is a fellow who came in with a cavalry escort. I was waiting behind him at the river crossing outside the fort. I don't know the name but I can describe him.'

  'Go on.'

  'About your height. Quite fat. Round face. And old. Sixty at least. White hair.'

  Volosus felt a slight tremor of excitement. 'The hair – quite thick. A red face? Florid?'

  'Yes.'

  'What of his mount? You would remember it if you saw it.'

  The guard officer nodded. 'White. Two hands bigger than most.'

  Volosus smiled at Bibulus. 'Dolabella. It has to be Dolabella.' He noted a reaction from the captive guard officer. 'You know the name?'

  'I heard it. I heard the centurions mention it. Around the same time.'

  'Thank you. A difficult task has just become a good deal easier.'

  Volosus felt himself relax. He had the name he needed and there was still enough light to get to the village. There was an innkeeper there with two maids – sisters, in fact – who would do anything he told them to for a couple of silvers each.

  'Bibulus, tidy up here and I'll see you at the inn. Midday tomorrow.'

  'What shall I do with them, sir?'

  ‘Cut their throats.’ Volosus aimed a finger at the man who had insulted him. 'Except him. He goes to the wolves.'

  I

  Augusta Praetoria, May, 274 AD

  'Are you all right, sir?'

  Cassius Quintius Corbulo turned to his attendant and sighed. 'I've been better, Simo. Why?'

  'That's your third mug of wine.'

  'I didn't realise you were counting.' Cassius pushed the almost-empty mug away. 'Ah, you're right – I should keep a clear head. Gods, where is the vicious old bastard? This is torture.'

  Cassius stood, walked to a window and looked out at the hills surrounding the town. He had never been to this part of Italy but the deep green of the densely-forested slopes reminded him of his home. Ravenna possessed no mountains, however, and Cassius now also found himself looking upon the grey peaks of the Alps to the west. He felt a chill as he thought of the momentous events taking place beyond them.

  The inn had been stipulated as the meeting place in the letter he’d received nineteen days earlier. Even back in the comparative safety of Antioch, he’d known it was only a matter of time. War was coming: an inevitable, long-delayed war between the Emperor Aurelian and Tetricus, the man who also called himself emperor and had ruled Gaul and much of Germania for three years. Cassius's superior, Aulus Celatus Abascantius, had been promoted and was now serving directly under Aurelian's intelligence chief. He had warned Cassius that he might well need him and that moment had come. After eight days on a ship and eleven in the saddle, they had finally reached Augusta Praetoria.

  Cassius turned and leant back against the cool wall beside the window. A maid came to collect crockery from a table where a family had just left. She did an impressive job of returning four plates, four bowls and four mugs to the kitchen in one go. She hummed a tune all the way.

  Simo was now looking out of the opposite window, at the streets outside. 'It's very quiet.'

  'Garrison towns usually are when the men are away fighting. They say there are six of our legions on the other side of the Alps. Somewhere with them are two of my uncles, three cousins and my brother-in-law.'

  Cassius and Simo returned to their table.

  'Sir, may I ask, was that letter from your father?'

  'It was. He would like to come across from Ravenna to see me.'

  'Ah.'

  'It's difficult. I'd like to but … it will make things harder; hearing about my mother, my sisters. I wish he'd just agree to leave it until I've done my five years.'

  'Only twelve months to go, sir.'

  Cassius slumped into his chair and sipped his wine. 'Any chance of seeing them out quietly in Antioch went up in flames when this arrived.' He stabbed a finger onto the letter lying beside his mug.

  'Sir, perhaps that's why your father asked. If we are to be sent west, he-'

  'He'd like to see me. In case I die.'

  'Sir, I didn't-'

  'Don't worry. That probably is the reason. By the way, Simo, it occurred to me that we should make some arrangements. You know I'd like to keep you on but I agreed I would free you when the army frees me – so that’s how it will b
e. You should start thinking about what you’re going to do. Life as a freedman will be very different.'

  Simo nodded then gazed thoughtfully down at the floor.

  Cassius checked his tunic was hanging correctly and patted down his hair. Then he shook his head; as if such things mattered to Abascantius.

  He heard the clatter of hooves outside. Simo stood and looked out at the street.

  'Sir, he’s here.'

  Refusing the offer of food, Cassius had no choice but to watch as his superior ingested bread, bacon, cheese and dates at a quite remarkable rate. His ever-present bodyguard and attendant, Shostra, only took breaks from his own meal to fill his master's mug. An ex-wrestler, Shostra rarely managed more than a mutter and his obvious disdain for Cassius was entirely mutual. Abascantius put away two platefuls before coming up for air. He belched, then waved a hand at the door of the small private room he had requisitioned from the innkeeper.

  'Shut it on the way out, Shostra.' Abacantius turned to Simo, who was standing behind Cassius. 'You too.'

  Certain that this didn't bode well, Cassius told Simo to check on their horses: the mounts had covered a lot of ground in the preceding week. Once the attendants had gone, Abascantius set about finishing off a few dates. Cassius opened a window. The inn was warm and Abascantius was as usual emitting a variety of noxious smells. On such occasions, Cassius often recalled their first meeting. As then, he found it hard to believe that the overweight, vulgar character before him was one of the Imperial Security Service’s senior officers. Due to his pock-marked cheeks, he was known throughout the East as 'Pitface'. Cassius wondered if the nickname had followed him west.

  Abascantius levered something out from between his teeth with a fingernail then ingested it. He sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes.

  'You must hate me.'

  'Sir?'

  'My orders only ever make your life more difficult.'

  'I know you're only doing your job, sir.'