Under The Eagle

In Vespasian's tent, an altogether different mood pervaded. He sat at his desk staring at the three men before him -Vitellius, seated, with a sickening hint of a smile playing about his lips as he listened to the account being given by the centurion and the optio standing to one side. Every so often he was aware of the hate-filled glances shot at him by the other two, but it only seemed to amuse him all the more as be bided his time.

Macro, filthy and exhausted, tried to make his report as clearly as possible but the intense weariness of the last few days clouded his mind and every so often he would turn to his optio to clarify a point, or to recall a detail. Cato stood stiffly at attention, his arm in a sling, still numb and useless from the blow he had received earlier.

The pair looked quite done in, reflected Vespasian, but he was secretly delighted with them. They had recovered the chest from the wagon in the marsh and even now the Legion's cavalry squadron had been despatched to retrieve it from its new hiding place. Not only that, but Macro had brought the body of Togodumnus into the camp and the corpse was identified by one of the British exiles accompanying the Fourteenth legion, a vile rat-faced man by the name of Adminius. With Togodumnus dead, only his brother Caratacus remained to co-ordinate the British resistance to the invaders. All in all, the legate decided, a disaster had been neatly averted, and had in fact been turned into something of a victory. In that light, his career was safe.

But there remained the sticky problem of the accusations being made against Vitellius by the centurion and his optio. As they spoke of Vitellius's attack on them in the marsh, their words were spoken with the simplicity of truth and all the doubts that Vespasian had ever entertained about the tribune seemed to be vindicated.

Macro finished his report and, after a moment's silence, Vespasian weighed up the evidence, while he stared intently at each of the three in turn.

'Are you quite sure about this, Centurion? Do you really wish to prefer charges against the tribune here?'

'Yes, sir!'

'What you say will sound quite incredible in a court of law. You know that, don't you?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Very well then. Very well. I will give your statements the fullest consideration and let you know my decision at the earliest convenience. You two are dismissed.'

'Sir?'

'What is it, optio?'

The young optio paused to consider his next words carefully. 'I still don't quite understand why we were listed as deserters, sir.'

'The charges have been dropped,' Vespasian said curtly. 'No harm done.'

'Yes, sir, but why were the charges made in the first place? Who-'

'A mistake, Optio. Leave it at that. Now you're dismissed.'

As Macro and Cato made for the tent flap, Vespasian called after them. 'One last thing. You have my thanks for alerting the rearguard. I doubt we'd have lasted long enough for the Fourteenth to rescue us, if Plinius hadn't been able to hold that end of the column. Now, make sure you get some rest. Wait outside and I'll have my orderly fix you and your men some hot food.'

'Thank you, sir,' Macro replied.

Alone in the tent with Vitellius, the legate considered his next interview carefully. Already the established version of events had Vitellius down as the hero who had single-handedly found Togodumnus's column. Unable to fight his way back to warn the Second Legion, he had caught up with the Fourteenth causing them to turn and intervene, just in time to save the Second Legion from annihilation. Consequently the tribune had won fulsome praise from nearly all quarters for his gallant action. Yet the two men who had left talked of treachery and betrayal.

'I take it you will not be pursuing their wild claims any further, sir?'

'It's quite a story. Wouldn't you agree?'

'Yes, but still a story. And, like all the best stories, there isn't a shred of truth in it.'

'But if the rest of their patrol says the same then you're in a bit of a fix.'

'Not at all,' Vitellius protested smoothly. 'It's my word against theirs. The word of the son of a consul against a bunch of squaddies. Who do you think a court will believe, especially after I've risked my life to save the Legion from certain defeat? At best it'll look like sour grapes. At worst, it will look like a political prosecution and that's hardly likely to go down well with the plebes in Rome – they're rather partial to heroes, I understand. I'd let it go if I were you.'

Vespasian smiled. 'Even heroes still have to call their superiors "sir",' he said quietly.

'My apologies – sir.'

'Let's, for the moment, agree that the centurion spoke the truth. How did you find out about the chest?'

Vitellius did not reply immediately as he sized up the legate. 'You know, I could deny all knowledge of the chest. I was, after all, acting on your orders to scout for sign of Togodumnus. I could say I just happened to be in the marsh at the same time as your little team. A thick mist, a case of mistaken identity… all perfectly understandable.'

'Understandable, but not true.'

'Of course it's not true, sir. But it doesn't really matter.'

'Why?'

'Because nothing will ever come of it. Not one word of what passes between us now will ever be uttered outside this tent.'

'And why might that be, tribune?' Vespasian smiled.

'I'll come to that, in a little while. Since you seem to be quite keen to know the truth about things then I'll indulge you. Actually, Narcissus told me about the chest.'

'Narcissus?'

'He told me before we'd even left the base on the Rhine. You see, I'm the imperial spy you were told about. He wasn't entirely sure about you and wanted me to keep an eye on the operation. Of course, I was only too happy to oblige.'

Vespasian managed to smile at the irony of the situation. Even the cunning Narcissus had his blind spots. Motive and alibi had been handed to Vitellius on a plate.

'But while he told me about the wagon, he didn't tell me where it was. That's why I needed to see the map on that scroll. Unfortunately someone beat me to it. Not only that but they tried to frame me for its theft. Still, it was simple enough to have Pulcher follow your men down into the marsh and send for some assistance the moment they started digging. I genuinely hoped to avoid any bloodshed, amongst my men that is. If I'd managed to persuade Macro to give up the chest we'd only have had to kill them afterwards. As it was, he demonstrated an unfortunate penchant for the most resourceful soldiering in adverse circumstances. And so the chest has been won for Claudius.'

'But why would you want the chest in the first place?' Vespasian asked. 'You couldn't possibly have hoped to use such a vast sum without attracting attention.'

'Absolutely. I hope you don't take me for that much of a fool, sir. I never intended to spend the money on myself.'

'Then why go to such lengths to obtain it?'

'For the same reason the Emperor wants that chest. Gold is power; and with that kind of wealth I could buy the loyalty of pretty much any, and every, man I wanted to.'

'I see.' Vespasian nodded. 'Then that would make you the traitor Narcissus warned me about. It never occurred to me that the imperial spy and the traitor were the same person. I think Narcissus will be equally surprised when I tell him.'