“By Sulis, why have you called upon them?” another grumbled. “They create nations of slaves and dare to call it ‘peace’!”
“And who else would you have me call upon?” Cogidubnus retorted. “The Iceni? The Cantiaci? Well, I did, and they did not so much as raise a finger when we appealed to them for help! Forgive me, uncle, but even your brother, King Eppillus of the Cantiaci left us to the mercy of Caratacus.”
“It would appear,” Verica finally spoke up, “that Rome is our only ally not to completely abandon us.”
“Ally,” the first warrior scoffed. “We had dealings with their merchants, though I would hardly call that an alliance.”
“On the contrary,” Verica said, “Our relationship with Rome goes far deeper than many realize. My father, King Commius, served with Julius Caesar during his Conquest of Gaul, from where, as you know, many of our people originate. Despite their later falling out, both I and my brothers maintained a subtle, yet firm rapport with Rome. My eldest brother, Tincomarus, spent the early years of his reign in Rome after the rise of Emperor Augustus Caesar. Tincomarus and Eppillus had a falling out, in a story which would take too long to tell now; suffice it to say, Tincomarus fled to Rome, where he spent the remainder of his days. After I assumed the kingship of Atrebates, and Eppillus took Cantiaci as his own, I renewed an alliance with Emperor Tiberius, who had just become emperor the year before. And though this alliance may have been forgotten by most, it would seem at least one of Tiberius’ successors intends to honor it.”
“What, with a single warship?” the warrior said, his voice still full of doubt. “What can they possibly bring us?”
“For now, time to regroup,” Cogidubnus explained. “Come, they will not wait for us long.”
As the contingent made its way down the long path that led to the narrow beach, they spotted a number of marines from the Roman vessel waiting for them. They were armed similarly to legionaries, though their armor was lighter and their shields smaller and oval shaped, allowing for greater mobility aboard ship. Their captain, a tall, blonde Norseman, stood at their head. He wore a sailor’s tunic with a gladius strapped to his hip; his hair was cropped above the shoulders, and his face shaven. His northern ancestors may have once been long-haired barbarians, but his demeanor noted that he was clearly ‘Roman’.
“King Verica,” he said in their native tongue as he stepped forward, giving a short bow of respect. “I am Commander Hansi Flavianus of the Imperial Navy. I am here to take you to Rome.”
“Rome?” a guardsman asked, perplexed. He then glared at Cogidubnus. “That was your plan? Forcing us to flee to Rome?”
“We are not fleeing,” the prince explained, keeping his voice calm. “Like I said, we are regrouping. And no one is forcing you to go anywhere. Those of you who do not wish to depart with us are free to leave. Take your chances with Caratacus if you wish; I’ll not fault you for it. Those who will stand by their king will accompany us.”
The twenty or so men who had thus far journeyed with them talked quietly amongst themselves for a moment. Finally the first warrior spoke, “I’m with you, my prince, as are most of the lads. The rest ask your pardon if they cannot accompany you.”
“Please understand,” another spoke up. “We have families that we cannot abandon, not with Caratacus as their lord. Forgive us, sire.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Verica said reassuringly. “I release you from any oaths you may have taken. Return to your families, and may Freya go with you.”
He then noted that the warriors who remained were mostly young and unmarried. Those with families still in Atrebates, he could not fault for staying to try and protect them. These men bowed and quickly took their leave of their king for the last time.
“It is time,” the Roman officer said. “My men will help you into the ship, and then we must set sail at once.”
“How long until we reach Rome?” Cogidubnus asked. Like all those who accompanied him and his great-uncle, none of them had any comprehension as to the vast size of the Roman Empire or the seas that surrounded its northern and western borders.
“At least two weeks, and that’s if the seas cooperate. Come.”
Verica nodded reluctantly and then looked back inland. Though it was a foggy and gloomy day, his heart was rendered at the thought of, what he felt, was abandoning his kingdom and people.
“Will I ever return?”
“That,” Hansi said, “is for the emperor to decide. You will find that Rome is the gate of kings.”
Chapter Endnotes:
1 — River Itchen in Hampshire, England, near what is now Southampton
2 — River Hamble
Chapter II: Demon’s Dagger
The Imperial Palace, Rome
14 January, 41 A.D.
“It is time,” Cassius said quietly as the group of conspirators crept down the stairs into the well-lit underground passage beneath the imperial palace. Outside they could hear the sounds of the cheering throngs that were attending the latest in a series of games put on by the emperor, Gaius Caligula. As a member of the Praetorian Guard, it would cause no alarm that Cassius was armed. However, the other members of the conspiracy had to keep their weapons hidden beneath the folds of their togas. As such, they carried short daggers instead of soldiers’ gladii.
Cassius Chaerea was a highly decorated former soldier who had served Rome since his days as a young tribune during the reign of Augustus. He was best known for having saved the lives of over a hundred legionaries during the disastrous ambush in Teutoburger Wald, Germania, more than thirty years earlier. He had further distinguished himself during the campaigns of retribution under Germanicus Caesar; his commanding general once telling the Emperor Tiberius that Cassius was, perhaps, the bravest man he had ever met. It was this reputation that later led to his transfer from the legions to the Praetorian Guard, where he established himself as one of their more respected leaders.
In recent years he had risen through the ranks as a senior officer within the Praetorians; an unusual posting, given his secret loathing of the imperial family. Though he served Augustus faithfully during his early days as a soldier, he never forgave the emperor for appointing the dreadful Quintilius Varus as commander of the Rhine Army, for it was he who led the Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth Legions to their destruction in Teutoburger Wald. Cassius also believed that any retribution should have been dealt swiftly, not six years later, and only then after the death of Augustus. And while he had respected Tiberius as a soldier, as he was one of Rome’s greatest commanders who could rightly boast that he’d never been beaten in battle, as emperor, Cassius found him wanting. Ironically, Tiberius himself would have been one of the first to agree with this!
In an interesting twist of fate, he had helped uncover a conspiracy against Tiberius, which was wrought by Cassius’ own commanding officer, Lucius Aelius Sejanus. He gave a sinister grin, knowing that he had saved one emperor, only to assassinate his successor ten years later.
The men walked quickly down the passage, their sandals echoing on the cobblestones. The praetorian tribune, along with several of his accomplices from the senate and a few guardsmen who were complicit in the plot, walked quickly along the corridor that ran beneath the busy streets between the palace and the circus. Far from being a dank, uninviting tunnel, it was spacious, lit with numerous torches, and served as a means of numerous patricians and other important persons to avoid the stifling crowds.
“Why, Senator Marcus!” a voice said enthusiastically to one of Cassius’ companions.
Despite being the emperor’s personal pathway, it was by no means secret. In fact, it was commonly used by senators, magistrates, and members of the imperial household when coming and going from the palace. The man who greeted them was a senator, whose name Cassius could not recall at the moment. He furrowed his brow when he saw the sweaty complexion of his friend, despite it being a cool January day.