me so I may put them to the question.” By now, the enemy had his forces by the water’s edge. I think Togodumnus overestimated the power of the river. It was wide at this point, more than a bowshot, but it has been a dry summer and the water is shallower than normal. When the legionaries advanced line by line, it only reached to their tunics at the deepest point, enough to hamper their movement, but not to halt their advance. The warriors defending the water’s edge watched them come and were overcome with battle madness. Togodumnus could not have moved them even if he had wished it.
‘They charged the Romans in the shallows and it made my heart soar to see them. If courage was the currency of victory we would never have fought our way to the far bank. But the British way is not the Roman way. You saw the shield line hold in the battle of the valley? Well, it held again, and the little swords did their work, and the river ran red with the heartblood of their finest warriors. I was supporting the right flank of the attack with my horsemen and I saw the bodies float past me on the current. Among them were men I knew by sight or by fame, great men whom Caratacus will never replace.’ He shook his head and took a deep draught of wine before offering the jug around the fire. Rufus would have taken it, but the icy glint in Britte’s eyes stopped him.
Verica wiped his lips. ‘Fought, did I say? No. It was a massacre. First the Roman shields held, then they forced their way forward and pushed the British line back to the far bank, and then further, on to the mass of warriors on the hill behind. Some men, more sensible than brave, tried to organize a withdrawal, but they were hampered by those who wanted to fight. I saw Togodumnus urging his men into battle even when their defeat was certain.
‘We were as close as our fire is to Bersheba, and I challenged him to single combat, but Togodumnus has ever been a coward who lives on past fame. He sneered at me and shouted that I was the fruit of the union between a diseased sow and a wild boar, which I took as a compliment coming, as it did, from him. Yet my challenge had shamed him, because he sent his bodyguard to kill me. Five men.’ Verica’s voice was close to ecstatic and his eyes shone with the memory of it. ‘Five men, warriors all, and I cut them down one by one. Flavius Sabinus, commander of the Fourteenth, saw them fall, and honoured me with his praise. “Hail, Prince Verica,” he called, even as the battle raged around us. “Had you been a Roman citizen the Emperor would have awarded you a triumph, but I fear a throne must do in its stead.” It was the best moment of my life.’ His eyes were locked on the flames, mesmerized by the dancing tongues of orange and red and gold, and the multitude of tiny sparks spawned by the crackling branches.
‘You are a hero, Verica. You should be with your friends, not with us slaves,’ Rufus said quietly. ‘There must be great rejoicing in the auxiliary camp.’
‘Rejoicing, yes.’ The Atrebate prince gave a puzzled smile and his spirit seemed to shrink within his body. When he spoke his voice had a flat, lifeless quality that matched his words. ‘But not among my men. By now the general had ordered in his cavalry and they rode ahead of the legions, giving the enemy no respite. We watched as the defeated warriors were hunted down one by one, fleeing this way and that like deer caught in a stockade, but never escaping the swords. Mile after mile we rode in their wake, and mile after mile of slaughter we passed. Eventually we came to the British camp and that was where we found them.’ He took another long drink.
‘Them?’ Rufus asked.
‘The women and children. They had spared none.’
Rufus nodded. ‘It is the Roman way.’
‘Some of the dead were of the Atrebates. My people. I saw one woman with a small baby. She had tried to protect it with her body, but the spearman had stabbed her through so often it was difficult to tell where mother ended and babe began. It seemed… excessive.’
‘Yet you have put your faith in Romans,’ Rufus pointed out. ‘You should not be surprised there is a price to pay.’
Verica shook his head to clear it. ‘You are right. My restoration comes at a cost, but it is a higher cost for my people than I would have believed. Yet I must harden myself against pity in the knowledge that when I am their king they will no longer have to bow to the Catuvellauni or the Regni. I will give them everything Rome can provide: great palaces and fine temples, gold, silks, wine and oils. Every family will have a house of stone and every man will be a lord among Britons. Narcissus has promised it.’
Britte had been sitting quietly, listening, and she spat in the fire at mention of the name. ‘Do not put your faith in the Greek. Where Narcissus goes, the carrion birds are not far behind.’ Rufus stared at her. In all the time he had known her, he had never heard Britte put together a dozen words. Her dark eyes glittered and met his, and he realized that, though he was seldom aware of it, she was always there, listening and watching, and that she probably knew Narcissus better than he did himself.
Verica looked up, his eyes red with exhaustion. ‘I am not a fool, whatever you think. I do not trust Narcissus entirely.’ He paused and pulled a dagger from his belt, the blade glittering in the light from the flames. ‘If he betrays me I will kill him.’
XVIII
Claudius concentrated on his left leg. He could do it. If a man could rule Rome he could stop his left leg from twitching like some demented grasshopper. He chewed his lip. Was it slowing just a little?
‘Caesar?’
He looked up. It was his chamberlain. ‘Yes, Callistus?’
‘I think Senator Galba is seeking a reply.’
Galba? Of course. His mind had drifted during the man’s interminably dull monologue.
‘Perhaps Senator Galba might repeat his question, Caesar?’
‘Y-y-yes, I think that m-might be wise. C-continue, dear Galba. I was m-mesmerized b-by your eloquence.’ Pompous fool.
It was the not knowing that made it worse. He looked out over the receiving room; thirty avaricious, expectant faces, each one seeking some sort of advantage. Contracts for the great aqueduct system he had announced. A monopoly on the supply of grain from the east that would make a man rich overnight. Petitions for the advancement of their unworthy relatives. Until he received word from Narcissus he was as blind as any of these fawning parasites.
When the audience was completed he limped through the palace corridors and out into the sanctuary of the Palatine gardens. This was where he came to think, in the quiet shade of the plane trees, myrtles and cypresses, under the stern gaze of men whose fame was long forgotten, but whose images would live for ever in the marble statues that lined the paths. But not today. He hurried through the gardens and nodded to the doorkeeper who controlled access to the library. As he walked through the bronze-clad double doors into the cool of the interior he felt a guilty rush of pleasure. The atmosphere of this place always made him feel less anxious; he was soothed by the unmistakable scent of old leather and slow decay. From floor to ceiling the walls were lined with thousands of niches, each containing a tight-wrapped scroll in its leather case. Every book in the world, works in a hundred languages including some long dead, and, he guessed, barely a tenth of them opened, never mind read.
The librarian approached, pathetically grateful for his visit. Claudius named the book he had come to study, then took his seat at a desk beneath one of the vast windows that allowed the sunlight to slant into the building and gave the reader light to work until late in the afternoon. When the scrolls were placed before him, he unwrapped the first with studious care and pinned it flat.
Gaius Julius Caesar’s History of the Gallic Wars, Book V.
Lucius Domitius and Appius Claudius being consuls… An hour later, he sat lost in his thoughts, reliving what he had just read. It was the story of Caesar’s invasion of Britain ninety years before. A tale of desperate battles against savage barbarian tribes, of legions lured into cunningly devised ambushes, of epic heroism and glorious sacrifice. The history didn’t say it, but it was clear that Divine Julius had badly underestimated his enemy and that their hit-and-run tactics had rattled the legions quite badly. Overwhelming force had tipped the balance, of course, as overwhelming force always would. But still…
Caesar, naturally, pronounced it a victory. The truth was that it was the story of a failure. He had left within weeks, burdened by a few middle-ranking hostages, treasures which were quickly spent and promises that were never kept.
