“Finally, I can call you ‘father’,” she said with a tear rolling down her face.
To which he replied, “And I, at last, have a daughter.”
Claudius had looked forward to his meeting with the exiled allied king. It was only seven months since he became Caesar, yet with no other plots or seditious talk of trying to restore the republic. He could now focus his attention on crucial matters both within and outside of the empire. Though the son of Germanicus had been an abysmal failure as emperor, the soldiers were willing to extend their fealty to their revered former commander’s brother. The general populous may not have liked the emperor curtailing the excessive festivals and expensive celebrations, yet he had promised to still honor Rome’s sacred holidays with proper festivities. And besides, with wasteful spending curtailed, the imperial coffers had begun to grow once more. Now was the time to, at last, give audience to the exiled Britannic king.
Claudius sat on a throne on a small dais that rose a few inches from the floor. A number of senators and equites were also present; many out of curiosity, to see for themselves this exiled foreign king who came to them for aid. The emperor was flanked by several men on the dais. Ever-present was his freedman clerk and advisor, Narcissus, and next to him was a prominent senator named Aulus Plautius.
Plautius was a battle-hardened soldier who had put down a slave revolt in southeast Italia seventeen years prior, subsequently served as suffect consul five years later, and now served as governor-general of Germania Inferior. Now in his late forties, and despite much of his hair on the sides and back graying, he was still in solid health and had lost none of his tenacity or prowess. He was also one of the few senior members of the senate who was battle tested, a proven strategist, and had the ability to take the long view of a campaign.
In addition to experience, Claudius knew he needed men who were young enough to be of an innovative mind and willing to think beyond the borders of conventional wisdom. Standing on the other side of him were two brothers who possessed both of these traits, Flavius Sabinus and Flavius Vespasian. Though only in their early thirties, they had already established their military credentials through previous campaigns on Rome’s frontiers. Sabinus was a year older, well respected by the legions, and had a slight edge in experience, and yet he readily admitted that it was his younger brother who was the true military genius between them. Many generals possessed tactical savvy and were best suited for leading their men into battle, while others were more apt at looking at the overall strategic view of the campaign. Vespasian was that rare commodity who possessed both traits in equal measure. Plautius held both brothers in high regard, and it was he who recommended them to the emperor.
Though no one was specifically talking about a military operation in Britannia, the previous emperor, Caligula, had toyed with the idea. And if a deposed ally was coming to them for aid, then Roman honor would compel them to act decisively.
“The noble Verica, King of the Atrebates!” the porter announced as a short fanfare was sounded by a pair of horns.
“King Verica,” Claudius said slowly, both to be sure the Briton could understand him, and also so he made certain not to stammer. “I welcome you to Rome, as one ally to another.”
“Honored, Caesar,” Verica replied, with a bow. To do so forced him to lean over his walking stick, and his nephew kept a hand on him for balance. Seeing this, Claudius signaled to the porter.
“A pair of chairs for our guests,” he ordered.
Tribune Cursor assisted the porter before taking his place next to Sabinus and Vespasian.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” Verica said as he eased himself slowly into the chair. “I am a king in exile. My lands, at least those not destroyed by the invaders, now fall under Caratacus of the Catuvellauni. Despite being one of the smaller kingdoms within the isle, we have always remained a loyal ally and trading partner to Rome.”
“Indeed,” Claudius concurred. “Your rates for silver and tin have always been very generous.”
“I would gladly hand over much of the silver within my kingdom to be rid of the scourge of Caratacus,” Verica replied candidly.
This remark brought some quiet mutterings from amongst the senators and equites, and even Plautius’ face twitched in a half smile. The emperor, however, was utterly serious as he leaned forward and rested his chin on his steeple fingers.
“Access to your silver mines in exchange for restoring your kingdom to you is a fair offer,” he said slowly. “But know that any expedition we mount cannot be simply to depose one ruler in order to restore another. By your own words, you are a small kingdom. What happens if we restore you to power by force and then leave?”
“If Rome comes, then she is there to stay,” Cogidubnus said with an expression of understanding.
“We have other allies and trading partners to think of,” Plautius explained quickly. “The tribes of Britannia are in an endless state of war with each other, as your situation well illustrates. Rome can bring stability and order.”
“At what price?” Cogidubnus asked. When the Romans did not reply, he let out a resigned sigh. “There will be many, especially amongst the tribal nobilities, who resent the interference of outsiders. And while we are grateful for whatever assistance you can render, your very presence could unite many of the rival factions in an effort to expel you from our lands.”
“Does your nephew speak for you?” Claudius asked Verica.
“He speaks for my people,” the king replied. “It is he who we ask you to restore as ruler of the Atrebates, not me. I am an old man, decrepit and hardly the warrior that needs to be an example to my people. No, it is he who must lead us now.”
“And by your words, do you still seek our help?” Claudius asked Cogidubnus.
“Yes,” the young man said, slowly nodding his head. “I simply wish to confirm that which I suspect. Rome comes to not just aid an ally, but to conquer a province.”
“And you would find this disagreeable?” Claudius asked.
While the Atrebates appreciated the emperor’s candor, it unnerved them a bit, the thought of their lands, as well as those of their neighboring tribes, being occupied by foreign soldiers. Still, they knew they had little choice but to accept it or leave their people under the rule of Caratacus and an endless state of conflict.
“I only ask that once we are restored, you treat my people with the respect and dignity due to allies and friends,” Cogidubnus stated. “I do not wish to replace one usurper with another. And as my great-uncle says, much of the silver mines are yours, provided our people are not neglected or mistreated. I also want your assurance that Roman soldiers will be there to protect us from those who would label us traitors to our common ancestors.”
“The Atrebates are allies and friends of Rome,” Claudius asserted. “And you are recognized as their rightful king.”
Cogidubnus nodded in respect and then asked, “When will your expedition be ready to launch?”
Claudius looked to Plautius for an answer, though he, in turn, glanced over to the Flavian brothers. It was Vespasian, having the soundest grasp of logistics and movement of large armies, who spoke.
“Two years,” he said flatly.
The two Atrebates leaders looked at each other with expressions of disappointment.
The general was quick to explain. “As you said, it will take a massive force to conduct a full-scale invasion. And whatever forces take part in the expedition, many will be there to stay. We do not have spare legions and auxiliary regiments just lying about.”
“Forces within the empire will have to adjust to cover those regions on the frontier previously manned by the invasion force,” Sabinus added. “It is already August. We could perhaps launch a strike with a single legion and a few thousand auxiliaries, but how long would they be able to hold any kind of ground, especially if their presence does, in fact, unite many of the tribes against us?”