Vespasian found himself unable to argue and he slapped his friend on the back. ‘We’ll just have to make the best of it then.’
‘Legate!’ Cogidubnus called over his shoulder. ‘Judoc wishes to speak with you.’
‘Better go and see what he wants, sir, but I’d dress a little more formally if I was you,’ Magnus suggested helpfully.
‘Yes, all right! Tell centurions Glaubus and Balbus to keep their men alert and then resume your duties as a private citizen.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes; thank you, Magnus.’
‘Ah! I was wondering when you were going to get around to saying that.’
Vespasian pulled the cloak tighter around his body and walked towards the two Britons, well aware that his appearance did not come up to what was expected of a legate of one of Rome’s legions.
‘Legate Titus Flavius Vespasianus,’ Cogidubnus said formally, still holding the sapling aloft, ‘this is Judoc, chieftain of the Cornovii, a sub-tribe of the Dumnonii.’
Vespasian stood straight and looked the man directly in the eye. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance finally, having already enjoyed your hospitality.’
‘The pleasure is mine,’ Judoc replied, pulling his windswept hair from out of his hard eyes, ‘and it’s made more enjoyable by your expression, which tells me that you didn’t expect me to speak Latin and therefore understand the sarcasm in your greeting.’
Vespasian caught himself before he blustered an apology and continued to hold Judoc’s cold gaze.
‘Your treatment was not of my doing, nor did I condone it, and, as yet, I am not willing to apologise for it unless you can disprove the assertion that you were here to kill me. I grant you the privilege to speak under a branch of truce out of respect for Cogidubnus, King of the Atrebates and Regni, even though I regard him as a traitor to our people.’
Vespasian gathered his thoughts, knowing that he had very little time to make an impression upon the man who now held his fate and those of his men in his hand. ‘You have my thanks, Judoc, as well as my sympathy.’
‘Sympathy? Why?’
‘Because you are in an extremely dangerous situation.’
The chieftain burst into laughter, cold and guttural. ‘I have heard of the arrogance of the Romans. You stand here, half naked, on the brink of death, and tell me that I’m in an extremely dangerous situation.’
‘I don’t mean at this moment but in the very near future. Yes, you could unleash your warriors and no doubt in an hour or so they’ll kill or capture all my men, but not before they kill twice their number or more and your settlement has burnt to the ground. And where will that leave you? As a hunted enemy of Rome, and believe me, Rome will not stop until the whole of the Cornovii are either dead or in chains working in your own tin mines, adding to Rome’s wealth.’ He paused whilst Judoc took in the threat. ‘We did not come here to kill you; that was a lie fed to you by a man whom I know as Alienus but you probably know as Verica, grandson of his namesake, the previous King of the Atrebates and Regni. He wants you to fight Rome and lose everything; he, Caratacus and the druids are willing to sacrifice the Cornovii and the whole of the Dumnonii solely to delay the inevitable. Your subjugation will take a year or perhaps two but in the end you will be crushed and you, Judoc, will be dead.
‘But it doesn’t have to be that way; Rome is offering you the chance to keep your freedom in return for two things: an annual tribute of tin and the removal of the druids on Tagell. The raid on our ships will be forgotten because you were pushed into it by the poisonous counsels of your vile priests who serve nobody but themselves. There will be no tax-farmers down here but you will be able to trade in the Roman sphere and your men will be free to join the Britannic auxiliary cohorts and earn citizenship. You are being offered the best of both worlds, Judoc; you can enjoy the fruits of the Roman Empire without feeling the weight of our swords. That’s what Cogidubnus is here to offer you; and I am here to kill the druids if you refuse to do that yourself. We are not here to murder you but, rather, to ask for your friendship. What do you say?’
Judoc was silent for a short while and then turned to Cogidubnus. ‘I heard that before you submitted to Rome you first fought against her, so that it would be said amongst the tribes that the terms of your surrender were written in Roman blood. Is that true?’
‘I wouldn’t have been accepted by the Atrebates as Verica’s heir had I not shown that I was willing to resist the invaders.’
‘And if I submit without showing any defiance then how long do you think I’ll remain chieftain of the Cornovii?’
‘Your honour has already been satisfied; your men destroyed three of Rome’s biremes. No tribe can claim to have sunk even one of her ships.’
‘Three, eh? So it’s true what the only man who returned from the raid claimed before I had him executed for leading you here; and now Rome asks for my friendship because she fears me?’
Vespasian tried to look as solemn as he could, given his attire. ‘Rome does fear a man who can reap such destruction on her fleet and Rome respects such a man. We could in time crush you but we know that it would be a long struggle, so we would prefer, instead, to beg for your friendship; we would honour the man who has fought so bravely against us, with his freedom and independence as well as the title of friend and ally of Rome.’
Judoc visibly swelled. ‘Rome begs for my friendship? Then let it be so, legate.’ He turned and addressed his warriors in what were, Vespasian recognised, boastful tones.
‘He’s claiming victory over Rome,’ Cogidubnus muttered.
‘Let him claim anything he likes so long as it’s not our lives.’
‘He’s now telling his people that they have a choice: either to carry on their valiant struggle for which the warriors on the boat raid gave their lives; or to accept Rome’s plea for a cessation of hostilities in return for the guarantee of independence.’
Vespasian suppressed a grin. ‘It’s the same everywhere: what leader is ever truthful with his people?’
‘With power, truth becomes a luxury and, like all luxuries, it should be used sparingly.’
Vespasian sighed and his mind turned to the imperial politics of Rome. ‘That’s something that I have learnt only too well.’
A cheer erupted and Judoc punched his arms into the air, acknowledging his warriors.
‘I think the Cornovii have graciously consented not to threaten the Roman Empire any more,’ Cogidubnus observed.
Vespasian felt a surge of relief but kept his face neutral. ‘Thank the gods that men can always be relied upon to find a face-saving way to look after their best interests.’
Judoc turned, beaming broadly, and opened his arms to Vespasian, who felt that he had no option but to subject himself to the chieftain’s embrace. ‘My friend, the Cornovii will no longer make war on Rome. However, there is one condition: I cannot be responsible for the deaths of the druids on Tagell but I would welcome their disappearance as they interfere with my people.’
And lessen your power, Vespasian thought. ‘So you won’t hinder us?’
‘I would never hinder a friend.’ Judoc signalled over his shoulder. ‘And to prove what a good friend I am I shall give you a gift when the druids are dead.’ From within the crowd two warriors stepped forward with Alienus, bound and gagged, but walking with pride. ‘This I hope will make up for the execution, on his recommendation, of the men that you brought with you. Their heads will no longer be sent to Arvirargus; instead my message will be that I’ve accepted Rome’s friendship and will explain the terms and suggest that he does likewise. He’s a pragmatic man and dearly loves his horses; I’m sure that he would hate to lose them.’
‘I’m sure he would.’ Vespasian looked at Alienus; defiance burnt in the young spy’s eyes, but he did not struggle. ‘Thank you for this gift, Judoc, I shall be back to claim it. My brother has got just the right place to keep him; he’s going to be very well looked after for the next few years. Who knows, he may even survive into his thirties.’ He indicated over his shoulder to the rocky mound of Tagell. ‘Which is far longer than that filth over there can expect.’