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  Plautius nodded curtly, and turned his attention back to the map. ‘Vespasian, you will remain in the south. Your first task is to complete the pacification of the south-west. I want that done as swiftly as possible. By the end of this campaign season, if you can. Find and eliminate what is left of Caratacus’ army. If you come upon Caratacus, try and take him alive. His life is to be spared.’

  ‘Spared, sir? Surely we want him out of the way permanently.’

  ‘He will be out of the way. The Imperial Secretary wants him shipped back to Rome in chains, as a souvenir for Emperor Claudius, to remind him of his brilliant campaign to conquer and subdue the Britons.’

  ‘Don’t overegg it, General,’ Narcissus said quietly.

  Plautius pretended to ignore the remark as he continued to brief Vespasian. ‘According to our intelligence the marsh covers a vast area, all the way to the river Sabrina. It’s crossed by a multitude of tracks. Parts of it are slightly elevated and support a few small settlements. There are stretches of open water and some narrow creeks, but they’re too small to navigate with anything larger than a raft. It is rumoured that Caratacus has established a fortified camp somewhere in the flats, but so far we’ve not been able to get any of the prisoners to tell us the location. I appreciate it’s difficult ground to work with, Vespasian, but I must have the enemy survivors found and destroyed. If there is a camp, I want it razed. If you can take Caratacus alive, do it.’ Plautius paused, and smiled. ‘But if not, then we’ll just have to present the Emperor with some other souvenir of his trip to Britain.’

  ‘That would be wise,’ added Narcissus.

  Vespasian was looking at the map. The area occupied by the flats was huge. The map simply marked its boundaries, with one or two known features, culled from natives or traders. The only area that had any amount of detail was a valley that ran alongside the marshland, following the course of the river that fed into the marshes and fens. A few tracks had been drawn in tentatively, and as Vespasian ran his finger along one of the lines, it smudged, and he realised it was only chalked on to the map. The general saw the gesture and frowned irritably at the smudge mark.

  ‘As soon as we’ve updated the map, I’ll ensure that you have a copy. There aren’t many of the enemy left, Legate. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find them and finish them off. Once you’ve crushed Caratacus and his surviving forces, that should be the end of resistance to us in the south.’

  The general looked up brightly. ‘That’s that, gentlemen. Any questions?

  … No? That’s good. Your written orders will be with you shortly and you’re to begin preparations to break camp the day after tomorrow.’

  Sabinus looked uncomfortable. ‘Only one day to prepare, sir?’

  ‘That’s what I said. We’ve already lost enough time this year. We need to move fast to catch up. Now, unless there’s anything else, you may return to your legions and get your staffs to work.’

  As the officers filed out, Vespasian waited for a moment and then approached his commander. ‘Sir, I’ve questioned the officers of my Third Cohort and taken their statements, which I’ve brought with me.’ He indicated the bag over by the side of the tent.

  ‘Good. I’ll send for my chief clerk. He can make preparations for the inquiry. If we move quickly we can settle the matter in the next few days.’

  ‘No.’ Narcissus interrupted him. ‘Now.’

  General Plautius turned towards the freedman, and Vespasian saw his jaw stiffen with suppressed anger. ‘I beg your pardon, Narcissus. Did you have anything to contribute to the disciplinary procedures of my legions?’

  ‘You mean the Emperor’s legions, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Narcissus smiled. ‘I’m afraid I must rush you on this matter. You know I’m leaving at first light to report back to Rome.’

  ‘Yes … a great shame.’

  ‘Quite. Anyway, I will, naturally, have to mention yesterday’s missed opportunity to crush Caratacus completely.’

  ‘Oh, naturally.’

  ‘The Emperor and the senate will want to know that those responsible for the mistake have paid a price commensurate with the scale of their failure. So I’m afraid we can’t wait for a proper inquiry. We need to act now.’

  ‘Now?’ The general frowned.

  ‘Tonight,’ Narcissus replied firmly. ‘The inquiry must be held tonight, and those found responsible must be sentenced before I leave in the morning.’

  ‘That’s absurd!’ Plautius blustered. ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘No it’s not. And I’ll tell you what is possible. It’s possible that Rome will take a dim view of your failure to eliminate Caratacus and his army. Unless I can persuade them that you have won a decisive victory. The escape of Caratacus can be presented as a minor detail, provided that those responsible for letting him slip away are identified and punished swiftly and decisively. Vespasian’s Third Cohort should fit the bill nicely.’

  ‘We haven’t had the inquiry yet,’ the General pointed out. ‘They might not be found at fault.’

  ‘You’d better make sure that they are. In the end, it’s you or them, my dear General.’ Narcissus paused to let the threat sink in, then he spoke again, in his quiet, polite, unflustered manner. ‘So, might I suggest that you give the necessary orders?’

  General Plautius glared at the man, visions of bloody torture and revenge flooding into his mind in rapid succession. The freedman’s impudence was breathtaking, but the gulf in social status between a senator and a freedman, who had been a slave of Claudius only a few years ago, was erased by the fact that Narcissus was the Emperor’s most trusted and closest advisor. The Emperor ruled Rome, but the Emperor, Plautius had heard it said, was ruled by his freedman. Only now, the freedman had a rival in Messalina, Claudius’s scheming young wife, and that made Narcissus an even more desperate and dangerous man to cross.

  ‘I’ll give the orders.’

  ‘Thank you, General.’ Narcissus resumed his concentration on the skinless pear on the silver plate on his lap, slicing it as finely as possible with the glinting blade of his dagger. ‘Send me word when all is ready. I’ll wait here.’

  Plautius could not stomach remaining in the same tent as the freedman and, grasping the pannier bags, he clapped a hand on to Vespasian’s shoulder and led him out of the tent. Outside, in the clerks’ tent, and out of the Imperial Secretary’s hearing, Plautius spoke softly to his subordinate.

  ‘You’d better get back to your legion. I want your Third Cohort stood to, unarmed, in tunics only and under guard.’

  ‘Why, sir? Why shame them so?’

  ‘Because they need shaming. They need to know that every man in the cohort is held to account, whatever their rank. It’ll serve as a warning to the other cohorts.’

  ‘But, sir—’ Vespasian’s exhausted mind was reeling with the way that the inquiry was being rushed through at this mad speed. ‘Think of the men’s morale. This will bring shame to the whole legion and all the spirit we’ve built up on the campaign will be pissed away.’

  Plautius stopped walking, and turned towards him with raised eyebrows. ‘Pissed away? That’s an awfully common expression. I think you’ve been spending rather too long in the company of the lower orders … Perhaps you should return to Rome before you forget who you are.’

  ‘I know who I am,’ Vespasian replied coolly. ‘And I know what’s right and what’s wrong. I’m telling you, this inquiry is a mistake. Nothing good can come of it … sir.’

  Plautius stared back at him. ‘I think you forget yourself, Legate. I’ve given you an order. Get back to your legion and have everything ready for the hearing. As soon as I’ve discussed these statements with my clerks I’ll ride over and join you and we’ll start immediately. If the preparations are not complete by then, I may have to widen the scope of the inquiry beyond the officers of your Third Cohort. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then go.’

  Chapter E
ighteen

  Senior Tribune Plinius filled his lungs and shouted the order. ‘Centurions … to the front!’

  Outside the headquarters tents of the Second Legion the men of Maximius’ cohort stood in well-ordered ranks. They were made visible in the night by the wavering glare of scores of torches held aloft by the legionaries of the First Cohort assigned to guard them. Unlike their comrades Maximius’ men were not armed, they were not even permitted to wear their armour, only plain tunics. They were under judgement, and as such might soon be cast out of the camp as a punishment for their failure to hold the ford the day before. Some of the men looked terrified. As well they might, thought Cato as he marched over towards the senior tribune. They would be without shelter from the elements and without weapons to defend themselves against any enemy patrols that might want to take a few easy heads from the Roman invaders. For however long the punishment lasted.

  Cato fell into line with the other centurions behind the tribune, and the escort formed up on either side.

  ‘Forward!’ called the tribune, and the party marched towards the entrance to the largest tent. The flaps were tied back and an orange-hued light spilled out from the oil-lamp stands inside. Through the flaps Cato could see that the clerks’ desks had been rearranged so that a long table was set against the rear of the tent, leaving an open space in front of it. A smaller arrangement of tables ran down one side and a number of clerks were already seated there, preparing their writing materials for keeping a record of the inquiry.

  Tribune Plinius marched the centurions and their escort inside the tent and indicated that they were to stand in a line in front of the empty table. The escort formed up behind them, hands resting on the pommels of their swords. The clerks sat beside their tablets, styluses to hand, ready to begin. Then all was still and silent as they waited in the stuffy heat for the presiding officers to appear. Cato, who had never witnessed such an event before, was terrified but determined not to let it show as he stood stiff as his vine cane and stared directly ahead. As they waited, he let his glance slip to the side and saw that Felix’s fingers were clenching and unclenching into a fist, over and over again. He suddenly turned his head slightly and caught Cato’s eyes. Cato’s gaze flickered down momentarily and he gave a slight nod. Felix followed the direction indicated and looked surprised when he saw his hand moving, almost as if it belonged to another. He abruptly stopped the nervous tic and winked his gratitude to Cato before facing forward again. For his part, Cato was relieved to find someone who felt as nervous as he did.

  A side flap was thrust open and the camp prefect entered the tent. He stepped smartly to one side and bellowed, ‘Senior officers present! All rise!’

  The clerks immediately stood up and snapped to attention along with the other men in the room as the legate and the general entered the tent and walked briskly to their seats. There was a brief pause before Narcissus followed them inside and sat beside the general. As soon as he had taken his seat the camp prefect called out, ‘At ease!’

  General Plautius began proceedings at once. ‘Before the inquiry commences I want it entered in the record that the exigencies of the situation require the circumventing of normal procedure in order that the inquiry is completed as swiftly as possible. To that end, I require that sentencing take place directly upon completion of the inquiry process, and that execution of any sentence be carried out as soon as possible.’

  The officers of the Third Cohort glanced at each other anxiously at this curtailment of their rights. Any hearing in a settled garrison fortress would be far more protracted, but here in the field it was necessary for justice to take a more direct route. However, this flouting of even the most basic procedures stunned the centurions.

  Before anyone could protest the general continued, ‘This inquiry has been called to determine whether the performance of the officers and men of the Third Cohort, Second Legion conforms to the standards required of those who serve in the name of Emperor Claudius and the senate and people of Rome. The charges laid before the inquiry are that on the ides of August last, the commander of the cohort, Gaius Norbanus Maximius, failed to obey orders and by such dereliction of duty permitted the escape of some five thousand enemy soldiers. Furthermore, it is charged by Centurion Maximius that Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro failed to carry the battle to the enemy with sufficient determination in defending the island in the middle of the ford. It is also charged by Centurion Maximius that the Third Cohort failed to engage the enemy with sufficient vigour and determination in its subsequent defence of the near bank of the ford. However, it is my view, after carefully considering the evidence submitted to me, that the Third Cohort and all its officers are equally culpable in regard to all the charges specified. Before judgement is passed, does any officer wish the opportunity to answer the charges?’

  General Plautius looked up and waited for one of the centurions to respond. Macro’s jaw was clenched with bitter anger as he took in his betrayal by Centurion Maximius. He could not trust himself to speak, nor to turn to his right and look past Tullius to the man who had lied so completely to his officers in an effort to escape the blame for his failure to do his duty. Even more unforgivable was his attempt to spread the blame even further by accusing the cohort as a whole of cowardice.

  ‘Sir, if I may?’

  Every pair of eyes turned towards Vespasian.

  ‘You may speak, Legate. As long as you keep it brief, and to the point.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I will. I wish to have it entered on the record that I oppose all the charges specified.’

  Plautius’ eyes widened in surprise at this show of open revolt against his judgement. He swallowed nervously before he responded. ‘On what grounds?’

  Vespasian weighed his words with care. ‘On the grounds that the charges are too narrow in scope. While I do not deny that the Third Cohort failed to act with sufficient speed or valour in carrying out their duties, the fact is that they were only ever required to defend the crossing against fugitives of the main battle. A battle that should have been fought in front of either of the other two fords. It was never anticipated that Maximius and his men would face the entire enemy army.’ Vespasian paused and took a deep breath before getting to the meat of his accusation. ‘The question I would like entered on the official record is, what reason can be given for the failure of the army of General Plautius to force the enemy to give battle before the two major crossings, as the general had planned?’

  This time the shock and surprise of those in the tent was so profound that there was a long silence while the men glanced from general to legate, and back to their general as they waited for his response to Vespasian’s open attack. Cato could sense the tension in the tent like the air that precedes a violent storm. Plautius stared at the legate for a moment and then glanced at Narcissus. The Imperial Secretary gave a slight shake of the head. Plautius turned back to the other men arranged around the tent.

  ‘That question is outside the scope of this inquiry, and therefore irrelevant.’ He glanced towards the clerks. ‘It will not be entered into the official record.’

  ‘That’s not acceptable, sir.’

  ‘It is acceptable, Legate. On my authority.’

  ‘Sir, you cannot condemn men on the basis that they failed to hold the line in the face of vastly superior forces.’

  Plautius smiled. ‘There is a precedent for heroic sacrifice in every army.’

  ‘It happens,’ Vespasian conceded. ‘But when such a situation was forced upon the Third Cohort by the failure of others to press home their attack, surely a double standard is being applied? You would condemn these men and their legionaries on the basis that they failed in their duty. Yet you would not condemn those men, under your direct command, who failed to attack swiftly enough to close the trap you originally conceived. It is by their failure to carry out their orders that the enemy managed to evade the trap, and fall upon the Third Cohort in overwhelming numbers.’

  The Legate had overdone it, t
hought Cato, glancing around the room. The shock on the faces of the officers in the tent was eloquent expression of just how far Vespasian had breached the accepted protocols for such an inquiry. The general glared at his subordinate, so consumed with anger and surprise that he did not know how to proceed for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and turned to the clerks.

  ‘Make a note for the records. The legate has registered an objection to the conduct of the inquiry. At a future date, to be determined, a subsequent inquiry will be held to investigate his claims of impropriety. Now, we must deal with the matter of the present inquiry. Charge by charge. Centurion Maximius.’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Do you deny disobeying your orders?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We marched towards the ford as quickly as we could, sir. On reaching the fort I decided that it would be dangerous to proceed while an enemy column threatened our flank. We closed with and destroyed the raiders and then continued to the ford, sir. In accordance with our orders.’

  ‘Was your decision to destroy the raiders immediately determined by tactical considerations alone?’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ Maximius replied without the slightest hesitation.

  ‘And did any of your officers try to dissuade you?’

  ‘I recall that there was some disagreement, sir. There was too little time to explain the situation to the individual concerned. Besides, when a senior centurion gives an order, that should be the end of the discussion.’

  ‘Quite so.’ Plautius nodded and then turned his gaze on Macro. ‘On the matter of the second charge, Centurion Macro, why was the ford not adequately defended before the enemy arrived?’