“You disrespect your betters!” a senator, who had been sent as part of a delegation from Rome, snapped. “Senator Gallus…”
“…is a fool and a scourge to the Empire!” Tiberius interrupted. “Apronius sent the good Tribune to me because he knew this man would not try to make this tragedy to be anything less than what it really is. Tell me more about this taxation.” It was all in the report, but Tiberius wished to hear it from Cursor.
“Olennius took it upon himself to modify the tribute set forth by the great Drusus Nero, the gods rest him,” Cursor began.
The Emperor gave a quick smile at the courtesy shown to his brother.
“But the official reports show no such change!” another senator protested, holding up a document that showed the transactions Olennius had sent to Rome over the previous three years.
The Tribune responded by producing a pile of documents for a satchel that he had carried in with him.
“These are the real collection reports,” he responded, eyes fixed on the Emperor. “The signatures and seals all match the documents you have. What Olennius procured from the Frisians was many times what was required, and yet only the small tribute that Rome established all those years ago was ever sent.”
“And the rest?” the Emperor prodded, knowing the answer.
“I’m sure that some of it went to the building and furbishing of a new estate in the province,” Cursor answered. “The magistrate’s villa that came with the region was not good enough for him. I’m certain if you were to audit Olennius’ personal finances, the costs of the new estate did not come from his own coffers. As for the rest, we can speculate on that. The only facts we know are that, as the good senators have been quick to point out, the additional tributes taken by Olennius did not make their way to Rome.”
The two senators scowled at having helped make a case against the magistrate appointed by their friend, Senator Gallus.
“I think I know what needs to be done with Magistrate Olennius,” the Emperor said after a brief pause.
The senators both swallowed hard, but knew better than to go against Tiberius when he made his mind up about something. They just hoped that his vengeance would not be deflected towards Senator Gallus, as well. It was no secret that Tiberius and Gallus hated each other. One senator quickly spoke up, hoping to change the way the conversation was going.
“We must now decide what to do about Frisia itself,” he said quickly. “The Army of the Rhine is still in a position to finish the rebellion.”
“Apronius has already negotiated a truce,” Cursor countered, “on the Emperor’s authority.”
“Then there is nothing more to be done,” the other senator added. “Frisia was but a sliver of a province and its tribute will not be missed. Quite frankly this entire incident in Braduhenna reeks of embarrassment should it go public. Thirteen hundred soldiers dead, another five thousand wounded, and yet the Frisians still hold their lands east of the Rhine.”
“The Frisians are not mindless barbarians!” Cursor snapped. “They are well trained and highly disciplined. They torched the bridges across the Rhine and cut off the Twentieth Legion, who fought with tenacity beyond comprehension, outnumbered at least five to one!”
“Yes, yes…we’ve read the report,” the senator said dismissively. “We also read that an entire cohort of the Twentieth panicked and committed mutual suicide within the residence of one of our former allies. Nine hundred men were killed by the Frisian, but another four hundred died by their own hands. Not exactly acts of valor worth recognizing, now are they?” There was a defiant sneer on the man’s face and he was daring Cursor to challenge him.
The Tribune turned and went to do so, when he was cut off by the Emperor, who he would not dare to try to speak over.
“The senator makes a valid point,” Tiberius conceded. “Such a disgrace will bring shame to the entire Rhine Army. While we cannot fully prevent word of this from getting out, we will take no public stance on the issue. The only official statements we will make are that the Rhine Army did defeat the Frisians at both Flevum and Braduhenna, and that following negotiations between their King Tabbo and our Legate Apronius, it was decided that in the best interest of both nations, Frisia should retain its autonomy and be a neutral territory. I will leave it up to the Senate to decide what should be done regarding the performance of the Rhine army.” He then waved for the senators to go, but bade Cursor to stay.
“It displeases you that I left the fate of the army in their hands,” Tiberius said once the senators had departed.
“It is not my place to question your judgment, Caesar,” Cursor replied, his jaw tense.
“Come off it, man,” the Emperor protested. “Apronius sent you as his messenger because of your candor. Do not let your frankness fail you now!”
“Then if I may be blunt,” the Tribune replied. “Caesar, the Senate will betray the Rhine Army and the memory of those who fell at Braduhenna. They will publicly disavow any responsibility for the battle and pretend the deaths of thirteen hundred soldiers of Rome do not matter.”
“Because they don’t,” Tiberius replied, causing Cursor to stare at him, his teeth grinding in anger. “The lives of individual soldiers, be they legionary or auxilia, mean nothing to the Senate, or to most of the people for that matter. The Roman Army avoided defeat, and that will be enough for them. The details matter not. No accolades will be awarded, since that will only draw attention to the war, and to be honest, this war is something that Rome would do best to forget.”
“So our men died for nothing at Braduhenna,” Cursor said through clenched teeth.
The Emperor gave a sad smile and nodded. “It saddens me to say this, but yes,” he replied. “There was no ultimate victory against Frisia, so to the Senate there is nothing to celebrate. The individual awards for valor will still be approved, but no awards to the Legion standards. Believe me, I find this as painful as you. I once commanded the Twentieth, and I know that at Braduhenna they certainly lived up their name, Valeria.”
“Apronius asked me to give you this in private,” Cursor said, pulling out a sealed letter. “It involves one unit that he wishes you to make an exception for.”
Tiberius read the note and furrowed his brow.
“He wants to award a single century with the Crown of Valor?” he asked. “That one century must have been through hell!”
“They were, Caesar,” the Tribune replied. “Only sixteen of the original seventy-six were able to stand and fight by the time it was over, but they still held. They kept the Frisians from flanking the entire Legion.”
Tiberius paused, deep in thought.
“I will grant this award personally,” the Emperor finally replied. He then stood and placed a hand on Cursor’s shoulder. “I also heard about you being awarded the Grass Crown. Only a handful of men in Rome’s glorious history have ever won this. It is the deepest honor that we can bestow; one that is often forgotten because of the extreme rarity of its awarding. Indeed, one hesitates to mention the Grass Crown, because it involves a Roman army being cut off and facing annihilation, something we like to pretend never happens.”
“Yes, Caesar, the men of the Twentieth Legion did present me with the Grass Crown,” Cursor admitted, a great weight suddenly crushing his spirit. “It is something that I bear with a heavy heart, for there was no joy in what I had to do.”
“There never is,” Tiberius replied. “Every man who has ever been presented with the Grass Crown has felt the same as you. It is something that cannot be awarded without much sacrifice. But in that pain and suffering there is also honor. Within the disgrace involved in what happened at Braduhenna you have deeply honored all soldiers of Rome.”
Artorius looked over the pile of paperwork on his desk and let out a sigh. It never seemed to end! No sooner had they buried their dead than the Century, what was left of it, was back to its monotonous daily routine. Disgusted, he turned to leave, only to find his path blocked by Optio Praxus.