‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Plautius paused for another moment of thought. ‘And Claudius will still get what he needs without the possibility of being exposed as an incompetent commander.’
‘I wonder if Narcissus has already thought of that too.’
‘Yes, the oily little freedman! I wonder.’
‘I’ve got orders not to let anyone across, sir.’ The centurion of the century of the VIIII Hispana stationed on the south bank of the Tamesis was adamant; he pulled his shoulders back into a more rigid attention as if to emphasise the point.
Vespasian leant down from his horse, placing his face close to the veteran’s. ‘I’m sure you have, centurion, but I have orders to cross; mine are from Aulus Plautius and yours are from Legate Corvinus. So tell me, which one has precedence?’
The centurion swallowed. ‘It would be the general, sir, but Corvinus told me that he was dead and that he was in command now and no one was to cross until Legate Geta arrives.’
‘Is that what he said? Well, I can assure you, centurion, that Plautius is very much alive, so alive, in fact, that he will personally execute you when he arrives here in three hours or so and finds us still debating who’s in charge of the army.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘And what’s more, there’s a legate, a cavalry prefect and three hundred troopers who will testify to him that you obstructed me in obeying his orders.’
‘And a civilian,’ Magnus added.
‘Yes, and a civilian.’
Sabinus moved forward. ‘Centurion Quintillus, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, legate; it’s good to see you again, legate,’ Quintillus barked, attempting to force his body into an even more rigid state of attention.
‘And you, centurion. It would be a shame if this was to be our last meeting.’
‘It would, legate.’
‘So what’s it to be?’
Quintillus glanced nervously around, swallowing hard again. ‘Well, I suppose that in the circumstances I’d better let you cross.’
‘That was a very sensible decision.’
‘But you’ll have to wait at least a couple of hours for the tide to fall; it’s too high at the moment.’
Vespasian swung off his horse. ‘Not for these lads, it isn’t. Now, tell me, Quintillus, which way did the Ninth go?’
The centurion pointed to two small hills covered with a smattering of trees, next to each other on the far bank, over a quarter of a mile away. ‘They disappeared between them hills, heading northeast, sir. Be sure to go between them not over them; a local farmer told us that one of them, and I don’t know which, has a shrine on it sacred to a god called Lud and you wouldn’t want to piss him off, apparently.’
‘Thank you for the warning, centurion, I’ll be sure to mention to the general just how co-operative you’ve been. Right, Paetus, it’s time your lads got wet.’
‘I’m going to have to stop soon,’ Sabinus said through chattering teeth after they had travelled only three or four miles from the twin hills. ‘If I don’t I’ll pass out.’
Vespasian looked up at the sky; the sun was falling towards the horizon and beginning to deepen in colour. ‘All right, we’ll stop here; we won’t catch up with them tonight anyway. Paetus, have your men build a camp.’
The Batavians set to their task and by nightfall the camp’s three-foot-deep ditch was dug and its resulting embankment topped with a palisade of stakes interwoven with hazel plashing, making a defendable wall half as high again as the height of a man. By necessity it was small and cramped, there being just enough room for the three hundred troopers and their horses, who remained saddled in the event of an alarm; it was also cheerless as Vespasian had, for obvious reasons, forbidden the lighting of fires. The still damp Batavians shivered in their cloaks and many of them lay beneath their mounts for extra warmth, risking a gush of urine from above that would add to their misery.
‘Plautius should have reached the ford and be camping on this side of the river tonight,’ Vespasian said, rubbing Sabinus’ shoulders, trying to get some heat back into his brother’s blood-depleted body. All around them men hunched against the cold, eating a cheerless supper and talking in hushed tones.
Magnus bit a chunk from a slice of salted pork. ‘What do you think he’ll do tomorrow?’
‘He’ll leave one legion north of the river and one on the south bank and then come after us with the remaining one,’ Sabinus suggested, ‘in case we’re not successful stopping Corvinus.’
‘You mean he’d attack the Ninth if they refused to stop?’
Vespasian shrugged. ‘He’d at least threaten to as a last resort, he’d have no option; he knows that his life is now at stake. If Narcissus can’t give Claudius the personal victory he’s promised, he’ll distance himself from it; Plautius will take the blame and will receive a nice polite note, in the Emperor’s name, requesting that he do the decent thing.’
Magnus chewed thoughtfully for a moment. ‘And I would guess that he won’t be the only one to get such a note.’
‘I think you’d be guessing correctly; Sabinus and I know too much. Our grandmother warned me about this, years ago; she told me not to get involved with the schemes of the powerful because ultimately all they want is more power and to get it they use people of our class as disposable tools. We’re very handy when things are going well, but an embarrassment when they don’t because we know too much. We therefore need to be discarded.’
‘She never said that to me,’ Sabinus said, aggrieved.
‘That’s because you never listened to her; you were too busy terrorising me and then you joined up and never went back. But I used to talk to her, or, more to the point, listen to her, and most of the things that she told me have begun to make complete sense as I’ve grown older. Magnus said it: in the Rome that you and I live in we can never rise to the top because those positions are reserved for one family; but we carry on our careers despite that because what would we do otherwise? Look forward to tasting next year’s wine? So we have no choice; there’re always going to be people more powerful than us and they’re always going to be using us and one day they’ll be the death of us. Unless we’re successful tomorrow, that day might be very soon and Plautius knows it.’
‘Perhaps I should do more listening in future.’
Vespasian smiled in the dark. ‘The day you start listening will be the day I ask for a loan.’
‘Sir,’ Paetus hissed, walking quickly towards them through the tangle of resting troopers. ‘I think that you should come and see this.’
‘What is it, prefect?’
‘A fire, some distance off; it’s just been lit.’
Vespasian followed Paetus to the northern defence. Looking out into the night he could see a point of flame that grew appreciably as he watched it. Then shadows appeared around it and a faint chanting drifted through the cold air. ‘Can you make them out, Paetus?’
‘Just, it’s very strange; they don’t seem to be wearing trousers like the Britons do; when they bother to dress at all, that is.’
Vespasian squinted; as he did so two of the figures lifted a small bundle into the air. ‘You’re right; they’re wearing robes almost down to their ankles. What are they?’
‘Shall I send some men to find out?’
‘Better not, it might be a trap; we’re safer staying in here.’
Magnus joined them peering at the group, which seemed to consist of half a dozen of the strangely garbed figures. The bundle was laid back onto the ground and the chanting stopped to be replaced by an infant’s wail. ‘I think we’re being cursed,’ he muttered darkly as a figure knelt down over the bundle. ‘I’ve heard stories about this lot, and none of them were good. I’d wager that you’d rather have that nice polite note from the Emperor asking you to relieve the world of the burden of your life than run into them.’ The wail was abruptly cut off; Magnus clutched his thumb between his fingers and spat. ‘They’re priests; they’re called druids.’
Vespasian felt his throat dry as the acrid fumes from the still smouldering burnt-out village rasped into his lungs. It was not the first such sight that they had come across but it was certainly the largest since leaving the camp at dawn two hours before and riding past the gutted remains of the tiny infant. He surveyed the dismal scene of charred bodies and timber for a few moments and then turned to Sabinus. ‘This must be what caused the smoke I saw yesterday, it’s big enough.’