Sabinus ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, incredulous. ‘They want us to attack them?’
‘No, brother,’ Vespasian said softly, ‘Caratacus wants us to attack them. He’s willing to sacrifice the Dumnonii knowing that their conquest will keep a whole legion busy for at least a year or two. And to what end? Some tin mines in a peninsula that leads nowhere; strategically it’s irrelevant and he knows it. The druids helped him to try and trigger the attack because it’s also in their best interests. Don’t forget they have no tribal loyalties, they’re not Dumnonii druids or Cornovii druids; their loyalty is only to their gods and they see Caratacus as the man who will preserve their ways and, hence, the druids’ power.’
‘Judoc is not going to be very pleased with the druids or Caratacus if he finds that out,’ Cogidubnus observed; his face revelled in the pleasure of the thought.
Plautius looked equally pleased. ‘No, he won’t; and nor will Arvirargus. I believe that you should be the one to tell them. Vespasian, I think we should revise your part of the plan slightly: Cogidubnus will now go with you and whilst you wait to intercept Caratacus’ arrival do nothing to upset the Cornovii; instead, Cogidubnus will go ashore and meet with this Judoc and explain to him that I’m willing to overlook his raid on our ships because he was obviously manoeuvred into it by self-serving priests. If we can turn the Cornovii against the druids they could do our job for us.’
‘Very good, sir. What about Arvirargus?’
‘I’m going to deal with him later. Once the druids are disposed of and Caratacus captured, we’ll take the legion a few miles into Dumnonii territory, burn some settlements and then summon the King for a meeting. I’ll just ask him one question: does he want to keep his crown and lands? Without the druids’ self-serving advice and Caratacus’ false counsel being poured into his ear, I think I can guess what the answer will be.’
‘That’s two big assumptions, sir.’
‘Not really; you’ll deal with the druids if the Cornovii won’t. And Caratacus acted on the false information that Alienus gave him last time and so he will this time; he’ll come. You’ll sail with the tide at the third hour of the day; so I suggest that you get some sleep. Any questions?’
Vespasian looked down at the captive still lying on his cross. ‘What about him, sir?’
‘What?’ Plautius glanced down at the man. ‘Oh, him; nail him up.’
‘I’d rather take him with me; he could be useful. For a start he knows where this nest of druids is.’
‘Will we be ready by the time the tide turns, Maximus?’ Vespasian asked, stifling a yawn as they walked through the gates and surveyed the boats rowing back and forth to the nine surviving biremes with the last of the crews and provisions. The burnt-out remains of the three fired ships protruded from the river’s surface as they were gradually submerged by the rising tide.
‘I spoke to all the trierarchi an hour ago at dawn and they were confident we would be, sir. The oarsmen are all aboard and it’s just the last of the marines and provisions being ferried across now.’
Vespasian grunted his satisfaction, stifling another yawn. ‘How many of those currachs did we manage to salvage?’
‘Currachs?’
‘It’s what the Britons call those boats that they were using last night.’
‘Oh, I see; eight so far, but with only enough oars for five.’
‘That’ll be enough; have them tied off to my biremes, we’ll take them with us.’
‘Who’s going to handle them? They’re completely different to our small boats.’
‘Speak to Cogidubnus and tell him to choose the men he’s taking with him on their ability to row. That’ll be all.’
Maximus saluted, his distrust of anything un-Roman barely concealed on his face. Vespasian watched him go wondering whether Plautius had got his plan right.
‘You’ve got that constipated expression on your face again, sir,’ Magnus informed him, walking through the gates with a steaming bowl in his hand. ‘Are you worried about something again or have you genuinely got a blockage? If it’s the latter, this’ll help.’ He handed the bowl and a spoon to Vespasian. ‘Lentils — with pork and lovage; Hormus is getting the knack of it, slowly that is. Now that you’ve managed to force yourself to buy a body-slave I do think you should have a go at purchasing a cook. Perhaps some high-class cooking will stop you looking like you’re trying to pass a ballista bolt, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian took the bowl and helped himself to a mouthful. ‘It’s not the standard of Hormus’ cooking but rather the standard of Plautius’ planning that I’m finding hard to pass.’
‘What do you mean?’
Vespasian sat on the ground and explained Plautius’ plan whilst eating his breakfast.
‘Well, it seems to me,’ Magnus said after a few moments’ rumination to digest the information, ‘that it all relies on Caratacus reacting to the information that Alienus brings him even though the last time he did so that information turned out to be wrong.’
‘Exactly. I didn’t realise that yesterday afternoon when Plautius explained to me and Sabinus what he planned, but then last night, after he told us that Caratacus had made moves to counter Plautius’ cancelled orders, I seriously wondered if Caratacus would fall for the same ruse twice.’
‘Does it matter? Look at it this way: if he does think that the risk to his credibility is too much to hazard, then he will come, even if he’s suspicious about the information. He can’t afford not to and then it’s down to us to catch him and Plautius’ plan will hinge on us doing so. However, if he believes the whole thing to be a trap to lure him into the open — which is what I’d put my money on — then what’ll happen? Bugger all. He won’t move, you’ll sail up and down the coast for a while whilst Cogidubnus tries to convince Judoc to kill the druids for us and if he doesn’t succeed you’ll have that pleasure; but whoever does it, the druids will be dead, Caratacus’ reputation as a defender of all things Britannic will be tarnished and Arvirargus will have no one to argue him out of doing a deal with Plautius.’
Vespasian scraped out the last of his lentils and chewed on them thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you’re right: whatever happens, the plan should work; it’s just that we might not end up capturing Caratacus and taking him back to Rome.’
‘Ah! So that’s what’s making you look like you could do with a good couple of hours thrashing about in the latrines: you’re worried that our masters back in Rome ain’t going to give you the recognition you feel that you deserve because you’ve left unfinished business in this gods-cursed island.’
‘Wouldn’t you be?’
‘Of course not. Whether you go back with or without Caratacus, Claudius’ freedmen will make sure that you’re feted. They have to. It’s vitally important to them to keep Claudius’ great conquest firmly fixed in the Senate’s and people’s minds. Claudius will drool and slobber all over you in public because the more glory he bestows on you the better he looks as being the instigator of this heroic enterprise. You’ll be paraded in your Triumphal Regalia; Plautius may even be granted an Ovation just so the Emperor can share it and remind everyone of his Triumph when he returned as the conquering hero three years ago, having saved Plautius’ beleaguered legions. Sabinus will be made consul next year when he’s forty-two and you’ll be promised the consulship in five years’ time when you reach that age, and the fact that Caratacus is still at liberty to run around and lop our lads’ heads off whenever he gets the chance will be quietly forgotten.’
Vespasian smiled ruefully at his friend’s blunt assessment of the realities of keeping up imperial appearances and handed back his bowl. ‘Yes, that makes sense; this invasion was always about keeping Claudius and his freedmen in power.’