cup.
‘That was good of you, Corbulo.’ Vespasian passed him the wineskin.
‘What did Poppaeus say about the chest?’ Magnus asked, adding the lentils and some lovage to the bubbling pot.
Corbulo sipped his wine and thought for a moment. ‘He made me swear to tell no one. He’s anxious that it should be kept secret whilst he pursues his own investigation, which won’t get far if Kratos has anything to do with it.’ He took a slug of wine and shook his head. ‘The Greek bastard,’ he exclaimed vehemently. ‘He is involved with Hasdro and Sejanus, I’m sure of it, and will try to cover up the attempt to have us all killed.’
CHAPTER XXV
Pomponius ’ morning briefing of the officers of the IIII Scythica was, true to its name, brief. Vespasian was detailed to accompany Paetus on a patrol beyond the trench and breastwork fortifications.
‘I’m surprised that he even remembered you were here,’ Paetus chuckled as they rode through the Porta Principalis at the head of two turmae of his Illyrian auxiliaries. ‘You must have made quite an impression on the drunken old fool last night.’
‘He barely looked at me,’ Vespasian replied. He didn’t mind; he was just pleased to be getting away from the smells and noise of the camp.
They rode the few hundred paces from the camp up to the main gate in the four-mile-long construction. Paetus gave another cheery wave to the centurion of the watch and showed his pass. The gates swung open and they rode through.
‘I don’t know what Pomponius thinks we can achieve here,’ Paetus said, slowing his horse to a trot as the ground became rougher. ‘It’s not cavalry country: too steep and too many rocks. Still, it will keep the men out of trouble and exercise the horses. We’ll ride up closer to the Thracians’ stronghold; it’s really quite impressive, worth a look.’
They continued climbing for a little over an hour, the stronghold looming larger and larger until its details could be clearly seen. The dark-brown walls, which Vespasian had assumed from a distance were wooden, were in fact stone, hewn from the mountain upon which it stood. Vespasian was impressed.
‘Lysimachus, one of Alexander’s generals, seized Thracia and became its king in the chaos that followed his death. He built the fort three centuries ago, to guard his northern borders from the incursions of the even more savage northern Thracian tribes, on the other side of the Haemus Mountains. They used to come over the Succi Pass, which is about ten miles to the north, to plunder the Hebrus valley. The fort stopped all that; they couldn’t take it and couldn’t advance without fear of being cut off by it.’
‘Why didn’t Lysimachus just take the Succi Pass and hold that?’ Vespasian asked.
‘It’s too high, very difficult to keep a fortification supplied up there.’
As they were talking, movement up at the fort, now just over a mile away, caught their eyes. The gates swung open and people began to emerge.
‘Now, that is strange,’ Paetus commented. ‘If they were mounting an attack they would have sent their cavalry out first, and we’d be running for our lives back down to our fortifications. But I can only see infantry.’
Vespasian stared hard at the ever-growing crowd swarming through the gates. ‘There are women and children amongst them as well, I think.’
‘You’re right. It looks like they’re surrendering. I’d better get a message down to the general.’ Paetus turned and gave a swift order in Greek; four of his troopers peeled off and headed back down the mountain.
The last stragglers appeared through the gates, which then closed behind them. At least three thousand people were heading towards them. At their head were two men riding mules. The taller of the two, an old man with short cropped white hair and a long white beard, held an olive branch in token of surrender. Next to him rode a figure that Vespasian recognised immediately.
‘What in Jupiter’s name is he doing here?’
‘Nothing in Jupiter’s name. That’s Rhoteces, one of their priests. You know him?’
‘I’ve watched one of his ceremonies. He enjoys sacrificing Romans.’
‘I’m sure he does. Nasty little bugger. He turned up about seven days ago and since then Poppaeus has been sending him back and forth to the Thracians negotiating their surrender. Looks like he’s been partially successful.’
The old man stopped ten paces away from the two Romans and raised his olive branch above his head.
‘I am Dinas, the chief of the Deii,’ he cried, so that as many of his followers as possible could hear him. ‘I have come with as many of my people who would follow to throw ourselves at the mercy of Rome.’
‘You are welcome, Dinas,’ Paetus replied equally loudly. ‘We shall escort you down to the camp.’
It took a couple of hours for the slow column of warriors, women, children, old and young, fit and infirm, to reach the gate in the fortifications. During that time Poppaeus, alerted to their imminent arrival, had formed up five cohorts each of the IIII Scythica and V Macedonica on the ground between the fortifications and the main camp.
It was an impressive sight, designed to cow the supplicants as much as deter any of their number who had thought to make a break for freedom once they had passed through the gates.
The gates opened and Paetus, with Vespasian at his side, led his cavalry through and halted in front of Poppaeus. The little general sat on a pure white horse in front of the parade. He was dressed in all the finery that befitted his rank – a polished silver muscled cuirass, a long, deep-red woollen cloak spread carefully over his horse’s rump, bronze greaves and a bronze helmet with silver inlays on the cheek-guards topped with a tall plume of red- dyed ostrich feathers. Behind him, dressed in equally ornate armour, sat an effete young man of twenty on another white horse. Around his head he wore a circlet of gold.
Paetus saluted. ‘General, Dinas, the chief of the Deii, has offered his surrender to Rome.’
‘Thank you, prefect. Take your men and form them up on our right wing, out of the way.’
Paetus showed no sign of offence at the curt response, and wheeled off to his position.
The Thracians filed slowly through the gates spreading out left and right. Some, intimidated by the show of Roman force in front of them, fell to their knees and begged for mercy; the more stouthearted stood in grim silence to await their fate. When all were through and the gates shut Dinas, accompanied by Rhoteces, approached Poppaeus on foot and offered him the olive branch. Poppaeus refused it.
‘People of the Deii,’ he called in a loud, shrill voice that carried over the field. Rhoteces translated his words into the language of the Thracians, in a voice just as shrill. ‘Your chief offers me your surrender. I cannot accept it unconditionally. You have rebelled against your King, Rhoemetalces, a client of Rome.’ He gestured to the young man behind him. ‘This act has caused the deaths of many Roman and loyal Thracian soldiers. It cannot go unpunished.’
A low moan came from the massed Thracians.
‘At my order my soldiers could attack and take all your lives. But Rome is merciful. Rome does not even demand the life of any one of you. Rome demands only that you give up two hundred of your number. Half will lose their hands and half will lose their eyes. Once this is done, I will accept the olive branch. You have a half-hour to decide before I give the order to attack.’
A wail of deep anguish rose up from the crowd. Poppaeus turned his back towards them to show that he could not be moved.
Dinas bowed his head and returned to his people. He started to address them in their own language. Meanwhile some legionaries under Aulus’ command brought forward five burning braziers and five wooden blocks, and set them up on the ground in front of the Thracians.
Vespasian watched from his position on the right flank as the late-afternoon light faded. Thirty or so old men and half as many old women had stepped forward voluntarily. Dinas was now walking through the crowd blindfolded, touching people at random with his olive branch. Most of those he touched walked to join the waiting volunteers, but some had to be dragged screaming to their fate. Only children were reprieved. Eventually two groups of victims stood in front of the braziers and blocks.
Dinas came forward to join them. He called to Poppaeus.
