Rome.
‘We cannot rule the world by force, Vegetius. We lack the means.’
Vegetius continued in the same smooth voice, pitched just on the polite side of insult. ‘It seems we lack the means to rule by consent.’
Aulus snapped back at him. ‘Our task would be made easier if some of our generals were more diligent.’
That brought forth a gubernatorial flush, as Aulus indicated that the messenger should continue. The man looked from one to the other, confused, before addressing Aulus.
‘Many of the outlying communities have been massacred. Publius Trebonius wishes it to be clear that Roman blood has been spilt, in some quantity, and that some form of punitive action seems appropriate. He also knows that the noble Vegetius Flaminus will be aware that Epirus lies on the direct route of Roman communications with the east. He feels that a swift example must be made and urges that, since he lacks troops in sufficient quantity, the 10th legion with auxiliaries should march south to restore order.’
‘A request that should have properly been sent to Rome,’ said Vegetius haughtily.
Aulus sighed, but felt it necessary to state the obvious. ‘I daresay Trebonius, with a revolt on his hands, feels that haste in these matters often brings a swift conclusion. He will be concerned that the uprising doesn’t spread.’
‘Very admirable, but I cannot move my troops to another province without permission.’
‘Leave us,’ said Aulus, addressing the tribune. ‘Give the details of what is required to the Quaestor, with a request that the troops be alerted to undertake a forced march as soon as is practicable.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. You go too far, Aulus Cornelius!’ shouted Vegetius, for the first time stung out of his relaxed pose. The tribune, who had started his salute, stood rigid, not sure what to do.
‘Better that, I think, than to go nowhere,’ replied Aulus softly. Then, with a benign smile, he looked at the tribune, staring at the ceiling, still halfway though his salute, with his arm, fist closed tight, across his leather breastplate. ‘You, young man, go to my tent. Instruct my servant to provide you with a bath. I’m sure the tribunes of the 10th will be happy to give you some food, as well as lend you clean clothes. When you have eaten, you will be provided with a fresh horse. Your orders are to proceed to Brindisium by ship, then take post horses to Rome with a message, from me, to the Senate.’
Vegetius sat silent, his fat face flushing a very deep red. The tribune finished his salute, turned on his heel and marched out. Aulus, still with the same benign smile, turned back to the titular commander. ‘As you see, Vegetius, I am taking responsibility. If the Senate questions my actions, I feel sure that I’ll be able to convince them of my personal probity. Not something I fear, however, that will be available to you.’
Vegetius felt a knot of fear in his stomach. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I think you do. If you want to hang on to any of that money you’ve acquired these last few years, I should get hold of your Quaestor, right away, and confirm the orders that I gave to the tribune.’
Vegetius tried to bluff it out, but the words wouldn’t come. ‘I…’
Aulus finally lost his patience, and, in a voice that had addressed an entire consular army, he told Vegetius in plain language what his fate would be if he did not order the preparations necessary to march.
‘I must warn you that my despatches concerning your actions, or rather the lack of them, are already on their way to Rome. Do as I say or I will personally see you impeached, stripped of all you own, and thrown into the pit of the Tulliniam to be consumed by the rats. You are a disgrace to the name of Rome. Do you think the locals don’t know, to a man, what you have been about? I have already said we can’t rule by force, we must rule by the respect of law, the laws of the city we represent. How can we impose respect for the Imperium of Rome with petty thieves, like you, lining your own pockets? You have a choice Vegetius, redeem yourself or I’ll have you hauled back to Rome in chains.’
Vegetius positively ran out of the tent, and those officers who had little respect for him smiled to themselves.
‘And who knows,’ said Clodius, when the news swept through the camp that they were headed south. ‘There might be a bit of loot to be had after all.’
Claudia would have readily admitted, had she been taxed, that she was probably on a fruitless search. Revisiting the villa was easy, since it belonged to a member of her own family and was, at present, as it had been the night of the birth, unoccupied. She had been tempted to come here so many times, but finding an occasion when Aulus was out of Rome, at the same time as both his sons, had proved an insurmountable obstacle and even now she risked discovery. It was a rare thing that someone as well-born as she should choose to travel with just her personal maid, Callista, and her maid’s husband Thoas, in attendance.
Thoas, sworn to secrecy, had hired strangers to carry her litter instead of using the household slaves. This alone was bound to excite comment in the Cornelii abode and leave a trace that could surface in an accidental comment. Aulus and Titus would be gone for so long that her travelling would hopefully fade from the collective memory before either of them returned. Quintus would be back in a month or so, but he was so heartily disliked that she had every reason to believe the household slaves would ensure he remained ignorant of her strange excursion.
‘I wish you to try and find a midwife who answers to the name of Marcia.’ She took a small bag of coins from her chest and handed it to Thoas.
‘Do you have another name, lady?’ asked Thoas.
‘No,’ she replied with a slightly waspish tone. ‘Nor do I wish you to enquire further. Merely find her, and bring her to me.’
The tall Numidian bowed, which at least brought his head down to her level and Claudia realised, with a start, that she did not know this man very well. He was not the type for domestic service, being tall and physically strong, surely more fitted for manual labour or as a protective body slave. But he was Callista’s husband, so it made sense to bring him along to perform this task, since she could hardly go asking around the neighbourhood herself. He had married the person she had been most intimate with for the last eight years; Claudia trusted Callista absolutely, so surely she could trust him.
‘This is a very personal matter, Thoas,’ she added in a more pleasant tone. ‘I am relying on you to be discreet. It’s not something I would want discussed by the rest of the household.’
The Numidian bowed again. ‘I am yours to command, lady.’
He found Marcia fairly quickly; there was a finite number of local midwives but Thoas was no fool; he added several more days to the search, purloining a fair amount of his mistress’s money in the process, supposedly distributed as bribes to gather information, in reality spent on wine, women and pleasure as well as the greatest of all satisfactions; the ability to behave like a free man.
Those were days that dragged for Claudia, days when she relived every event in her life: her childhood, in the home of indulgent parents; her father an upright but far from wealthy senator, a good soldier who brought her up as a proud Roman; the flattery of marriage to a man like Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus, whose gravity, presence and achievements so impressed a sixteen-year-old girl. It was a match that shocked her friends, yet Claudia had sensed their jealousy too; had she not snared the city’s leading soldier, as well as the richest man in Rome? And despite the age difference, he was handsome as well as gentle, showing to all with eyes to see that he was besotted with her.
Life after the wedding ceremonies turned her head even more; she was no longer a young girl to be indulged but had become the Lady Claudia Cornelia, a person of substance. People, certainly older women, who would have been condescending in her previous station, now showed due deference. She became the mistress of a great house instead of the child of another and Aulus had immediately signified his trust in her by giving her the keys to the strongbox and the doors, so that everyone in the household knew she was in charge of all the domestic arrangements.
Men of all ages, who had in the past flattered her for her looks, now professed themselves amazed at her sagacity when she advanced an opinion. Her husband treated her with just as much respect and, with an almost paternal care, awoke in her the passionate side of her nature. To wound such a paragon was not easy and Claudia took no pleasure in it, but over the first weeks in the company of Brennos she had realised that she had married Aulus for his standing, not his person, as well as to please her father. She was in love with the image, not the man, and nothing proved that more to her than the physical reaction she felt to the Celt’s presence, a vibrancy to their lovemaking so very different to the tender couplings she had enjoyed with Aulus. There were times she cursed the decision to travel with Aulus to Spain, something that had been brought about partly by her own pleading. Still
