Chapter Endnotes:
1 — River Avon
2 — Norfolk, England
Chapter XXVI: Departure of Friends
Roman Town of Aquae Sulis
February, 44 A.D.
With the emperor anxious to celebrate his Triumph the coming spring, Plautius knew he needed to tour the territories of his new province well before then. Aside from administrative details and appointments, it helped ease his mind to see for himself that the entire region would not fall into disarray while he was in Rome for the Triumph. One place he felt he needed to visit was on the very western frontier of Roman Britannia, which had been assimilated under very unusual circumstances.
“Welcome, governor, to Aquae Sulis!” Tribune Cursor said as he saluted.
“The Waters of Sulis,” Plautius translated. “A good name.”
“It’s not much right now,” Cursor said, looking at the humble settlement behind him, “but it has enormous potential!”
“Yes, I saw your report about the thermae springs,” the legate replied as he walked beside the tribune.
“Seriously, sir, you need to take a plunge in them. It will change you!”
Plautius chuckled in reply to Cursor’s enthusiasm. Since he had known him, the tribune had always come across as a man with a stoic sense of duty, so it somewhat surprised Plautius to see this much exuberance and excitement emanating from him. “You know, Vespasian sent you ahead with a single cavalry regiment on a reconnaissance mission, only to find out you acquired us an entire tribal kingdom without so much as shedding a drop of blood.”
“These people were ready to be ‘Romanized’,” Cursor explained. “They were practically begging us to come in and civilize them. Still, if we’re going to protect them, I’ll need more than just a single regiment of cavalry on their border.”
“Agreed,” Plautius replied. “There are a number of issues, both operational and logistical to see to, but I am tentatively planning on providing a substantial garrison for the border of our province and especially the Silures territories, where we think Caratacus has been in hiding. In due time, we can deal with them permanently. I also saw the agreement you reached with the Dobunni. Well done, my friend, well done indeed!”
That evening the two men had a private dinner to discuss Plautius’ plans for the region. Cursor’s cavalry had established the rudimentary fortifications of a wooden fort, though the troopers themselves still slept in their tents at night. The large tent that served as Cursor’s principia sat in the very center. It was a stormy night, and the rain beat down against the canvas as servants brought courses for the two men. It was a humble meal of soldier rations consisting to wheat cakes and porridge, supplemented with some fish that Cursor’s men had bartered for from local fishermen.
“I apologize for that lack of better subsistence,” the tribune said as they ate while listening to the wind and rain battering the canvas. “A mobile cavalry force does not have the logistics capabilities to provide a more fitting meal to a governor-general. Though we managed to procure some fish from the locals, they apparently have never heard of garum; a pity because it’s great for dipping bread into. I suppose the making of quality fish sauce is something else we’ll have to teach these people.” The governor gave a short laugh at Cursor’s mentioning of one of Rome’s most popular condiments.
“I’m not above eating the same fare as the men in the ranks,” Plautius said. He then grinned. “I’m just glad your tent doesn’t leak. The rain seems to be a constant companion in this land. Still, like you said, this land does have potential.”
“It will be better once we start establishing a more enduring presence here,” Cursor replied. “Get some real roads put in, sewage lines, and more permanent structures with modern facilities.”
“About that,” Plautius said, taking a long drink of wine and pausing for a minute in contemplation. He turned his cup around in his hand as he spoke once more. “I heard rumor that you have no intention of returning to Rome.”
“There may be some truth in that,” the tribune replied. “I also intend to resign my post as commander of the army’s cavalry corps.”
Plautius took another pull off his cup, though he did not seem surprised at Cursor’s last statement.
The tribune continued, “I’m fifty-two years old, and while I don’t look it, it is time I put away my sword for good. And before you ask; I have no desire to go back into politics.”
“I cannot blame you there,” the legate remarked. “You spent ten years as a tribune of the plebs. Personally, I dread the day I have to leave behind the army and the provinces for the politics of Rome. As you know too well, at least out here our enemies have the courtesy of looking us in the eye and making it known they mean to kill us.” He took another drink and the two ate in silence for a minute or so before the governor explained the real reason for his visit. “There is a way that you can still serve Rome in an important capacity. We have established a new province, but it is rather frail, and our borders are fraught with enemies. Strengthening our hold will require sound diplomacy even more than the swords of the legions.”
“What do you propose?” Cursor asked, taking another wheat cake from a passing servant’s tray.
“The Dobunni king sent a messenger, who we intercepted on our journey here,” Plautius explained. “He spoke very highly of you and the respect you have shown their people. Hell, you’ve even given this settlement a name already.”
“Just something that sounded obvious,” Cursor shrugged. “A Latin name merged with their goddess of the springs. I hoped you wouldn’t disapprove.”
“It is a name that will last through the ages, no doubt,” Plautius emphasized, showing that he approved of Cursor’s choice. He continued, “Given their strategic position on the western edge of the province, plus their eagerness to become Romans, makes this an important position. What would you say if I appointed you the imperial magistrate and mayor of Aquae Sulis?”
With Scapula installed as commander of the Twentieth Legion and assimilating well, Artorius at last allowed himself a bit of reprieve. He had assisted both the legate and chief tribune in familiarizing themselves with the intricacies particular to the Valeria Legion. Scapula was an efficient administrator, and he had managed rather quickly to get a handle on the dispersed vexilations throughout the province, ensuring that all detached cohorts still maintained regular contact with the legion headquarters and were still held accountable to the commanding legate.
It was now February, and he had just turned forty-six the previous month. With his pending return to Rome and final retirement from the legions, one of his last acts was to go through the tedious task of selecting those soldiers who would accompany him for the emperor’s Triumph. His final duty would be to lead his men in the victory parade through the streets of the Eternal City, after which he would accept his discharge papers and leave the army forever.
As for the soldiers who were fortunate enough to win a lengthy leave in Rome, Artorius had selected two cohort commanders and a dozen other centurions who had distinguished themselves throughout the campaign. He left it up to the commanders of each century to submit the names of those who they felt had fought valiantly and shown exemplary conduct. Essentially, anyone awarded the Silver Torque for Valor was selected, provided they had no subsequent disciplinary issues. Also, any soldiers who had reached their service obligation date and were electing to take their discharge would be part of the imperial triumph. But while the men in the ranks busied themselves with establishing and fortifying the new province, or else making ready for their leave in Rome, the master centurion had some unfinished business to attend to.