Again the four turned to their general, three of them nodding, but Collega’s broad face showed consternation. ‘Without two of your four legions and with explicit orders from the Palatium in Rome to consolidate your position I do not understand how you intend to stop him.’
Corbulo gave him a look teachers reserve for their slowest pupils, but Collega stood his ground and returned the stare.
‘It is late in the season and he must move quickly if he is to force the mountain passes before the first snows,’ the governor explained patiently. ‘He cannot delay because he knows that Tiridates will return in the spring carrying Rome’s blessing. The Armenian council will unite behind their king and the opportunity will be gone. The last report from our agents shows him still in Ctesiphon.’ Corbulo used a centurion’s vine rod to indicate a position in the centre of the map table close to a winding blue line Valerius calculated must be the Tigris river. ‘Which means that even if he has already marched he cannot be any further than this position today.’ The tip of the vine rod moved north. ‘I think there is no doubt that he intends to reconquer the land his brother has negotiated away by first taking Tigranocerta, the fortress city which guards the only road north, and then turning northeast by the Sea of Van to reach the capital Artaxata. This is how I will stop him.’ He used the vine rod as a measure to indicate the distance between Antioch and Tigranocerta, then between Vologases’ army and the city. When it was done his face broke into a savage grin that revealed Corbulo the warrior. ‘We will have at least six days’ march on him. I intend to consolidate my position by garrisoning the fort at Zeugma and the Euphrates crossing with a vexillation of three cohorts from the Fifteenth Apollinaris and a mixed cavalry and infantry force of Cappadocian auxiliaries. Then I will march the Tenth Fretensis and the bulk of the Fifteenth to… here, north of Gazarta, where I will intercept my enemy and defeat him.’ He looked around the room, the pale eyes daring any man to contradict him.
Valerius was stunned by the audacity of the plan, and more so by the fact that Corbulo was offering his head on a plate to his enemies. He remembered Vespasian’s warning. Did he want to be liked or valued? He opened his mouth to speak.
‘With the greatest of respect, general,’ Collega’s voice shook slightly as he interrupted. ‘To take such a course of action would be at best risking your command, at worst…’ He faded away as if his tongue was unwilling to speak the word they were all thinking. ‘You intend to meet a force of seventy thousand Parthians with a Roman one of not much more than twenty thousand. This is a campaign which warrants months of preparation, yet you give us only days. Victory is far from certain; defeat would leave Syria open to King Vologases’ army and risk the loss of the entire Roman east. Vespasian would be trapped between a victorious Parthian army and the Judaean rebels, who have already proved they can be a match for a Roman legion. I beg you to reconsider.’
Valerius came to attention, bringing a glare from Corbulo and a look of hatred from Mucianus that almost stopped his tongue.
‘I must agree with General Collega. In my opinion you would be risking too much for too little. Even meeting such a formidable army on favourable terms would be dangerous. To meet them with such a weak force seems…’
‘Madness?’ Corbulo’s arid voice completed the sentence for him.
Mucianus pushed his way round the table to face Valerius. ‘So, the Palatine’s spy shows his true colours and becomes an expert in eastern warfare in the same instant. What does a mere tribune know of grand strategy? We have been fighting these barbarians since you were issued your first caligae, soldier, and thanks to this man whose reputation you have the audacity to demean we have defeated them every time we have met them.’
‘I am not…’
‘Let us not fight among ourselves when the enemy may already be on the march.’ Corbulo stepped in front of Mucianus, and turned to Valerius and Collega. ‘Everything you say is true. No one knows better than I what we risk by this strategy. Yet I believe there is no other way. May I explain?’ Collega bowed and stepped back from the table. ‘My good friend General Mucianus is correct that we have been facing the Parthians and their Armenian allies for more years than I care to remember. No matter how many times we defeated them, no matter how strong the defences we put in place along the Euphrates, they were always a threat to Syria, and, by extension, to Asia and the east. Until now. I know Tiridates. He is not his brother. He would rather hold what he has than risk everything again. With Tiridates on the throne there is an opportunity for lasting peace. But he must be allowed to take that throne and rule with Rome’s blessing. If we stand back and allow Vologases to invade Armenia we will be in danger of throwing away everything we have won, everything Roman soldiers have fought and died for in those gods- cursed mountains for twelve long years. Armenia will become a Parthian state, and our weakened condition ensures that Vologases will have the leisure to consolidate his rule. I will not let that happen.’
Corbulo straightened and his voice took on a power that mesmerized every man in the room. ‘Once before, I stood on the banks of a river and obeyed a command not to cross. That river was the Rhenus and the command came from my Emperor, Divine Claudius. The German tribes were in disarray and at each other’s throats. They were ripe for defeat. We had an opportunity to smash their power for a dozen generations, to emasculate them and enslave their warriors. To extend Rome’s rule as far as Germanicus, who died in this very city, dreamed. But I turned back, and what has happened? We have had to fight each and every day since to keep what is ours. Thousands of brave men have died, and worse, our timidity has encouraged the tribes of the east to test themselves against us not just on the Rhenus, but also on the Danuvius. None of this would have happened if I had had the courage to do what was right.’
‘But the Emperor…’ Collega said.
‘The Emperor and his advisers must do as they see fit, just as Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo will.’ Corbulo slapped the table, indicating that the time for argument was over. ‘Now, to the details. We will march in two days. General Mucianus will rule Syria while I am beyond the frontier. You, Gaius Collega, will hold the bridge at Zeugma.’
As the next hour unfolded, Valerius was astonished at Corbulo’s grasp of every aspect of warfare. He outlined the timings, routes of march and even rations per man for each of the legions involved to Casperius Niger, who took notes as Corbulo rapped out a string of commands.
‘And finally to the mounted element of the main force. As we know from long experience our cavalry is the key element in any combat with Parthian forces. Parthian mounted archers are among the best in the world. We have been relearning that lesson ever since Crassus was taught it so painfully at Carrhae.’ The other generals murmured agreement and Valerius understood that the threat must be very real. ‘Once we are in the hills, they will attempt to divide us using hit and run attacks from ambush and weakening us in a thousand pointless skirmishes. Anything but meet us in a full-scale battle. But time is my enemy’s enemy. Parthia is a fractious state and the bulk of its army is drawn from those of a hundred different warlords. Vologases knows that he cannot stray from home for long or he will return to find another man on his throne. If we can convince his soldiers that they only have death to look forward to and not plunder, they will start thinking about home, hearth and wife. The legions which march to meet Vologases will be accompanied by three regiments of mixed cavalry, six alae of Numidian light cavalry and eight of mounted archers from Syria, Thracia, Cappadocia and Phrygia. A force of close to ten thousand men. Gaius Valerius Verrens will command that force.’
For a moment, the room went very still and Valerius would swear the birds stopped singing in the trees outside the window.
Mucianus, predictably, was the first to find his voice. ‘You would place your fate in the hands of this untested puppy,’ he spluttered.
‘Hardly untested, and the puppy has teeth.’ Corbulo smiled. ‘Valerius Verrens is a Hero of Rome, holder of the Gold Crown of Valour, last survivor of the Temple of Claudius in Colonia and scourge of the rebel Queen Boudicca. You have commanded mounted troops?’
‘In Africa.’ Valerius was as taken aback by his appointment as Mucianus. ‘But only as part of legionary punitive expeditions.’
‘What is this but a large scale punitive expedition?’ Corbulo demanded of the room. ‘In any case, it must be enough. The coordination between cavalry and the heavy infantry of the legions will be vital. I need a soldier with a proven record as a fighting officer and experience of combined operations.’ He turned to Valerius. ‘Your light cavalry will be issued with double the standard number of javelins and the archers will take as many arrows as they can carry. I know it will create weight issues, but we will conserve their energy as much as we can on the march. Do you have any questions?’
At least a hundred were running through Valerius’s mind, but they were questions he had to ask himself, not the governor. They would have to wait.
The conference broke up with Mucianus still eyeing Valerius suspiciously, but as the other legates left Collega
