approached to shake the wooden hand and wish him luck.
‘Until I saw the hand I had not realized you were the same Verrens. You served with my brother Marcus in the Twentieth and he spoke highly of you.’
Valerius thanked him. ‘You were right to speak out.’
‘And you, though I doubt you made yourself popular among the governor’s inner circle. They are very protective of his reputation, which is a fine one. Perhaps…’
‘Yes?’
‘I may have done him an injustice. I have not served with him as long as some, but I have seen him on campaign and I respect his reputation. He is a man who knows his own mind and once it is made up he is unlikely to change it. But if Corbulo believes he can win, it would take a brave man to think otherwise.’
As Collega left, the general called Valerius back to the table.
‘The first lesson a military commander learns is always to expect the unexpected. I must be seen to send Vespasian my most experienced cavalry leaders, therefore I must make do with what I have. You need not concern yourself with tactical considerations: the prefects of the cavalry units are veterans who know their business. Your job is to provide leadership and coordinate their actions with those of the infantry. Do not let me down.’ He tapped the map. ‘Rock and dust, chasm and cliff. It looks formidable, but we have been there before. We know the ground and we know the risks. Water for the men and fodder for the horses will be of vital importance, but I trust Niger to take care of that.’ He chewed his lip and his eye fixed on a single portion of the map. ‘The key is that we know the ground.’
Valerius waited for more than a minute in silence.
‘Sir?’
Corbulo’s grey eyes speared him. ‘One thing you must learn, tribune, is that I do not care to be plagued with details.’
Valerius cleared his throat. ‘I carry a personal message from General Vespasian… to be delivered in private.’
Corbulo went very still. ‘Then deliver it.’
‘He said: “Tell General Corbulo that whatever he decides I will support him”.’
The governor frowned, the lines on his cheeks and brow creating dark fissures. Clearly the message troubled him. ‘Those were his exact words?’
Valerius nodded.
Corbulo gave a sour smile. ‘More politics.’
Valerius turned to go, but a word from the general stopped him.
‘I have spoken to young Crescens. You were correct: an impressive soldier and of good family. You may tell him that he is to join the staff of the Tenth for the campaign ahead.’
Valerius left the room with his head spinning. He suddenly realized how far out of his depth he was. Taking a legion and its cavalry contingent on a four-day expedition into the Atlas Mountains was entirely different from leading ten thousand men into one of the most inhospitable places on earth. He had an incredible amount to do in the few short hours before they marched. Not only did he have to organize his own depleted equipment for a campaign that could take as long as two months, he had to find out what he could about the units which would be serving under him and the officers who commanded them. But where to start? He had a vision of a swarthy face. Niger would know. Niger seemed to know everything. Suddenly something occurred to him and he couldn’t help smiling at the brilliance of it. At a stroke Corbulo had thwarted any plans he might have made to carry out Paulinus’s investigation. The Army of the East’s overworked cavalry commander would be fortunate to have a spare minute for weeks to come.
On his way to consult Niger, he called at the slave quarters for Serpentius. ‘How are they treating you?’
‘I’ve been in worse billets,’ the Spaniard grunted. ‘They wanted me to clean out the stables, but after I told the overseer I only answered to you and I’d cut off his balls if he thought otherwise, they seemed to see reason.’
Valerius laughed. ‘You’ll have the chance to shovel dung another time. For the moment, I need you to put together the essentials for a two-month campaign in the mountains. We’ll be fried during the day, frozen during the night and the chances are some bearded Parthian will want our balls to take home as a present for his wife.’ He handed over the small wooden tablet which bore his seal of office. ‘From now on you are my freedman, not my slave. That means I can conscript you into the army and no one’s going to kill you for it, except the enemy. Take this to the beneficiarius and get yourself a uniform, weapons and armour. Then check with the cavalry out by the gate. Those veterans have been fighting Parthians for years and they’ll certainly have added a few modifications that will help stop an arrow. Oh, and remember to sign up to the funeral fund.’
Serpentius reached for the bronze plaque at his neck and untied it. It was the manumission Valerius had granted him after their near-fatal mission for Nero almost three years earlier. Not that the Emperor knew anything about it. His late wife Poppaea had been grateful enough to grease the wheels that would allow a gladiator his freedom. The Spaniard was as hard as the mountains that bred him and Valerius had never seen him show emotion, but there was a catch in his throat when he spoke.
‘I suppose no man is ever truly free, but I haven’t felt like a slave since that day on the Danuvius when the Dacians were chasing us with their skinning knives. I always knew there would be a time, though, and I suppose this is as good as any. When I was waiting to fight in the arena, I used to dream of this day, but I never really thought it would happen. I suppose…’
‘No.’ Valerius stopped him with a smile. ‘There’s no point in thanking someone who’s probably going to get you killed.’
Serpentius sniffed and brusquely changed the subject. ‘What about horses? Those spavined, bow-legged nags they gave us at the port won’t last a day where we’re going.’
‘I’m supposed to be in charge of a cavalry wing.’ Valerius shrugged. ‘We’ll be in trouble if they can’t provide their new commander with a decent horse.’
By now it was clear that the sense of suppressed excitement from the conference had infused the entire palace as word spread that the legions were on the move. He found Tiberius outside in the grounds. The young man was talking to a senior officer in the shadow of a grove of carob trees, but by the time Valerius reached him the other man had disappeared.
‘My apologies, Tiberius. The general wanted me to tell you myself, but I see you already know.’
Tiberius looked up sharply, but relaxed when he recognized Valerius. ‘I would not have this posting if it hadn’t been for you, tribune. They tell me that the Tenth will soon be on the move. Judaea, I expect, with General Vespasian and Titus?’
Serpentius gave him a wry smile of congratulation and Valerius drew the young man aside. ‘You are not going to Judaea, Tiberius,’ he said quietly. ‘The Tenth will be moving northeast, into Armenia. We have information that a Parthian army is on the march and General Corbulo intends to intercept it. There will be a battle.’
Tiberius looked puzzled and his eyes went cold. Was it possible that the young man was frightened? It seemed unlikely, but it was conceivable. No matter how proficient a soldier was with his weapons, the thought of his first real battle was enough to turn the veins to ice water. But the expression only lasted a heartbeat before the young tribune recovered and his face broke into a grin.
‘So, I am to be blooded at last. I have waited for so long. It could only be better if you were able to fight by my side.’
Valerius heard a whisper in his head. He had a momentary vision of the younger tribune with blood on his face, but he kept his smile steady.
‘I will ask the general, Tiberius.’ He exchanged glances with Serpentius. ‘Who knows what can be arranged.’
XXIII
Valerius awoke in darkness, his head buzzing with the information he’d had to absorb and the details he would have to deal with in the coming twenty-four hours. Of the seventeen auxiliary cavalry regiments which were
