turmoil are at an end. Call the priests and let us look for an auspicious day to begin our campaign.’
Unseen, Aquila marched out of the tent in disgust, knowing that, for no purpose, more men were going to die.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Such a journey would exhaust me, Marcellus,’ said Avidius, waving his hand. ‘The heat, the dust.’
‘Is it wise that your wife should go to Citra without you, sir?’ asked Marcellus. ‘Will not King Estrobal take such a thing amiss?’
The governor waved aside his quaestor’s objection. ‘He would be foolish to do so. I will expect both you and my wife to inform him of my intention to retire here in Utica, and since you, Marcellus, will be the one returning to Rome, it is better that you’re the one he converses with. It will be your duty to tell him that this continual fighting with Mauritania must cease. We will also want to know whom he has designated as his successor, for that is something Rome must approve. You would, in any case, be carrying any messages he wants to send to the Senate, one of which is, I hope, a promise of more Numidian cavalry for Spain.’
‘Does your good wife agree with this, sir?’
‘A good wife, Marcellus Falerius, does what she’s told!’
The younger man flushed slightly. In a small place like Utica, the doings of those in power tended to become common gossip. His own household did not escape scrutiny, so it was well known that he had a running feud with his wife about the way their children were being raised. Claudanilla sought, at every turn, to temper the harsh regime that he had instituted. The Greek pedagogue he had employed complained that if he punished the sons, Lucius and Cassius, then he immediately had to face the wrath of their mother. The tutor engaged to teach them martial arts sought to keep them from so much as a scratch, clearly an impossible goal for youngsters engaged in boxing, wrestling and sword fighting. The boys knew, and took advantage of this, and with the head of the household absent for the whole day it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain discipline.
‘Besides,’ Avidius continued, ‘the Lady Iniobia can assist you. She knows everyone at Estrabal’s court and I’m sure her voice, added to yours, will carry extra weight.’
Both men knew that the governor was engaged in a shocking dereliction of duty, but since Avidius had decided not to return to Rome, he cared little for what his peers thought. He maintained that the coastal strip of Africa, and great heat tempered by a sea breeze, suited his old bones. Marcellus could have refused, though when he weighed matters in the balance, he knew Avidius would carry any blame for failure, while he, delivering his own report, would garner any credit for a successful mission.
‘Then it would be best if we depart within the week.’
‘Nonsense, Marcellus,’ cried Avidius. ‘The Lady Iniobia is the wife of a Roman proconsul. She’s also a princess of the Numidian royal house. She cannot travel in anything less than regal splendour.’
That took a month to prepare, during which Marcellus fretted at the continual delay, while any suggestion that he go ahead with a small troop of cavalry was rejected. Finally the caravan was ready, hundreds of camels and porters, dozens of litters, with an escort consisting of almost the entire garrison. There was the princess herself, travelling in a huge double litter borne by relays of a dozen Numidian guards, along with her household, which consisted of maids, cooks, seamstresses and a personal astrologer. The tents necessary to accommodate such an exalted personage followed on a train of carts, along with the servants to raise and lower them, as well as the household slaves who would see to any cares not already covered. The whole assembly depressed Marcellus; rather than being pleased by its grandeur, he was given to thinking how much more appropriate it would be for a plainly clad Roman senator, carrying his rods of gubernatorial office, to call upon a client king unescorted. Nothing could underline the imperium of Rome more than that.
As the only two elevated personages in this caravanserai, Marcellus and the Lady Iniobia dined together and, claiming precedence over the quaestor, she declined to use an upright chair, reclining on a couch just like him. She was an attractive woman, much younger than her husband, and in the lamplight, which made her ebony skin shine, it was easy to imagine that he could go beyond the bounds of prudence. That he was at liberty to do so was made plain on their first evening, with Iniobia alluding to the fact that her husband’s inertia was not confined to his official duties. This caused no embarrassment, since the governor’s wife left him several escape routes, nor was she offended that he used them, showing remarkable sensibility to the constraints of his office.
Instead, without ever once alluding directly to mutual attraction, they became friends. Her conversation was fluent and entertaining, and during the journey Marcellus learnt a great deal about the northern littoral of Africa, of the various peoples, their rulers, their past and the future they looked to. He was forced to see the journey, regardless of his frustration at the slow pace of progress, as a pleasant interlude in his life. On arrival at Citra they parted, she to seek out family and friends, he to the quarters assigned to him as a visiting dignitary, where his first task was to have the naked female slaves sent to bathe him replaced by males. This was nothing to do with prudery — they were striking young women and his for the taking — but let such indulgence get back to Rome and someone might use it to diminish him.
He and the princess came together the next day for a joint audience with King Estrobal, where he discovered that the Lady Iniobia, despite her husband’s opinion, had little influence with her father, leaving him to diligently carry out all the tasks set him. This mainly consisted in listening patiently while the king blamed every frontier problem on his rival in Mauritania. Having been present when Avidius received an embassy from that country, and taken note to the opposite view, Marcellus suspected both parties to be at fault.
‘You must understand, Majesty, that Rome cannot allow conflict on the frontiers of the empire, regardless of where blame lies. We must intervene to put a stop to it, by force if necessary.’
Clearly King Estrobal, in late middle-age and accustomed to due deference, took exception to being so addressed; that was bad enough, but the fact that Avidius had entrusted the task of chastisement to someone else, an inferior, deeply offended him. On the subject of his successor he was adamant; none of his sons was as yet old enough to indicate their ability, though he was prepared to send his eldest boy, Jugurtha, to Rome with a contingent of cavalry.
It was made plain that this in no way favoured him as a potential successor; perhaps, when his other sons had grown to manhood, he would select another. If Marcellus had been the true governor in his own right, he would have said that such an attitude smacked of useless prevarication; that, failing a decision on the succession by the king, Rome might be called upon to make it for him to ensure peaceful continuity. But he lacked the stature to expound such a view and remained silent, though it was the first thing he said to Avidius on his return to Utica.
‘I think he declines to name any one of his children for fear of his own life. As long as they are competing with each other for his favour they will not act to remove him. If, as I suspect, we are going to be involved in the choice, sir, might I suggest that King Estrobal be invited to send his other sons to Rome, as well?’
‘On what grounds?’
‘If they’re going to be clients of Rome, it would be wise for them to see the extent of our power. Then they will be less likely to emulate their father and ignore it.’
‘Will he not see them as hostages?’ asked the governor.
‘I hope so, sir. If his entire bloodline is in our hands, he might stop raiding Mauritania.’
‘That seems very harsh to me, Marcellus,’ Avidius replied, as usual taking the side of the locals against his own kind. ‘Let us leave things be.’
‘Will that be the recommendation in your final despatch, sir?’
The old man looked at him, and for once Marcellus could see the sense of purpose there that had, at one time, carried him to the consulship. ‘It will.’
‘I think the boy Jugurtha is too young for command.’
‘He is of royal blood, and will be obeyed. Besides, someone of experience is bound to be sent to keep him in check. You’re sure my wife will return to Utica with this cavalry?’
‘Those were her words, sir. She intimated that with her presence in Citra, the king would bend all his efforts to fulfilling his promise.’
There was a great degree of dissimulation in that reply. The truth was that his wife was happier amongst her
