“The queen is expecting him,” Landon answered, “or rather her consort is; boorish and insufferable as you duly pointed out.”
“What business has he this far north?”
“Hard to say,” Landon replied. “Cartimandua expressed her displeasure at his conquering and brutal subjugation of the Atrebates. The ghastly druidic sacrifice they made of six of their nobles has also brought them the queen’s loathing. All the while Venutius has praised Caratacus for bringing stability and order to the southern kingdom. But I do not think that Caratacus coming here has to do with the annexation of a tiny realm.”
“Why not?” Alaric asked, his friend turning to face him. “We have both witnessed the queen’s revulsion to some of his actions.”
“True, but then the Kingdom of Brigantes is one of the largest in this land,” Landon said. “And as the queen told you, we even have claim to certain territories across the sea in Hibernia. These did not just manifest themselves as part of our lands. All kingdoms are wrought through conquest, and if Cartimandua were to openly chastise Caratacus for conquering the Atrebates, it would be viewed as hypocrisy and quite possibly provocation for war.”
“Then what?”
“As you will see, we have eyes everywhere,” Landon stated. “The dozen or so men of the guard whom you’ve met are but a fraction of us. Caratacus’ brother, King Togodumnus, sailed for Belgica a few months ago. We sent a small group of men across the channel as well, and they saw a camp outside the trading port of Gesoriacum. Though the actual number of soldiers was but a few hundred, they clearly noted the eagle standards of four Roman legions.”
“Rome…” Alaric’s voice trailed off and he closed his eyes, his heart suddenly pounding. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.” His thoughts suddenly turned to his mother and he broke into a cold sweat. “She came here to escape from them,” he whispered. “Perhaps it is a mercy that she never lived to see them land upon these shores.”
“What was that?” Landon asked.
“I never told you where I came from originally,” Alaric replied, turning to face his friend. “It is time I did.”
As they were the same age, and Alaric had only been a boy of four or five when his mother brought him to Britannia, Landon had never given much thought to his friend’s origins when they were growing up. Alaric had also been but thirteen when he left Brigantes. So it was with great interest that Landon listened to his friend tell of the Marsi people in Germania, a great race of warriors who lived along the River Rhine, near the frontier of the Roman Empire. His mother never told him why the Romans had come to destroy their village, though a conversation he had with a centurion many years later led him to believe that it was in retribution for what the soldier had called an ignominious betrayal by the Marsi.
Alaric remembered little of Germania and regretted that he could not recall what his father had looked like. All he had were stories Milla had told him, along with a few details the Roman soldier had given him.
“Do you think the centurion had any reason to lie to you?” Landon asked.
Alaric shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was completely unapologetic regarding the destruction of my people. He said his brother had been killed years before, during an ambush that the Marsi took part in. I don’t think he was trying to be provocative, though if he was, what could I have done about it? He was heavily armed, with a number of his men within earshot. But no, I think his words were simply a way of reinforcing to me just how cruel the world is. And those who think otherwise will be enslaved or killed by the strong.”
“And yet from the way you talk,” Landon said with his brow furrowed, “I cannot tell if you hate the Romans or not. I mean, I can certainly understand your mother’s abject fear of them. And yes, I think that perhaps it was a mercy that she passed on long before they came here.”
“I tried to hate them,” Alaric replied. “It’s hard to explain, but I have always felt more confusion than anything when it comes to Rome. During my travels, I ended up serving aboard one of their warships. It was there that I was taught both sailing and how to fight with a gladius.”
“So the story I heard about you fighting pirates alongside the Romans is true?”
“It is,” Alaric admitted. “Something else I am glad my mother never knew. I sometimes think she would have rather I died rather than draw a blade and fight for them. And when I was in the east, I met a man; a Judean teacher. His followers to this day claim he was the son of God.”
“Which god?” Landon asked.
“They have but one, so I assume he needs no other name. I cannot say for certain. I did not spend time learning about the Jewish beliefs, only what this brave and noble man taught us. He said that we should love not just our neighbors, but also our enemies. Though he didn’t call them by name, it was clear that he was referring to the Romans.”
“Well, was he the son of their god?” Landon persisted.
“I don’t know,” Alaric shrugged. “It’s possible. I mean, if we believe in the plethora of deities that we’ve been told live within the water, the earth, and the sky, then why not? But whether he was, that’s not what’s important. What matters is that he brought a message of something other than hatred. I’ve carried it with me, though I do not know if I can truly forgive the Romans for what they did to my people, and what they continue to subject others to who dare to stand against them.”
Artorius and Sempronius walked into the entrance of the principia tent the morning following their arrival in Gesoriacum. A pair of legionaries stood guard, and inside were gathered the men who would lead Rome in its first conquest in generations.
As commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force, Aulus Plautius would not directly command any of the legions, instead relying on his subordinate legates. Flavius Sabinus had recently assumed command of the Fourteenth Gemina, with his brother, Vespasian, leading the Second Augusta. The Ninth Hispania, which was at the time posted in North Africa, was led by the venerable Gnaeus Hosidius Geta. He was a battle-hardened veteran who, despite being barely thirty, had already completed two command tours. His reputation was particularly fierce following his victories in Mauretania. The only legate missing was Glabrio of the Twentieth Valeria.
The legates, chief tribunes, and master centurions all sat at a large oaken table in the center of the tent. Equite tribunes and other senior centurions sat on chairs along the outer walls of the tent. The only exception to this was Artorius’ old friend, Aulus Nautius Cursor, who being in command of the task force’s cavalry was seated at the head table. Artorius gave a nod of respect to his friend.
“Gentlemen,” Plautius said. He stood at the head of the table, a freedman clerk on either side and a stack of documents piled on the table in front of him. “Next spring the conquest begins!”
Though this was a commonly held consensus, the general’s words made it official. The term conquest also made this far different from the usual expedition, emphasizing that once the invasion force landed in Britannia, they were there to stay.
“As you well know,” Plautius continued, “this will be a massive undertaking. Given the volatility of Britannia, I suspect that the mission of conquest and pacification will continue long after we have passed the sword on to our sons and grandsons. This will not be a mere show of force with a mock attack on the sea, like what happened just a couple years ago. Nor will we make the same mistakes as Julius Caesar and invade with too few troops. The emperor’s father, Drusus Nero, once predicted that a successful conquest of Britannia would require four legions, with an even larger compliment of auxiliary forces. As we shift forces within the empire to compensate for uprooting the invasion force, you can see who will now be responsible for the regions your legions have covered for many years.”