Ian Miller

Legatus Legionis

Chapter 1

"Cheer up, Ralph," Pallas Athene smiled. "It's not often you get to play the boss God."

"No, it isn't," Ralph Grenfell replied, "and it might be fun if this weren't our last shot at this."

Each knew the situation well. The temporal viewer not only let them view history, but Pallas Athene had also learned how to send messages back in time, at least under certain circumstances. She had thought this to be a great idea, even if it were to lead to the end of her career as a classical historian. Not that that mattered in the present. As far as those in the temporal satellite were concerned, all civilization on Earth ceased some time before the beginning of the twenty-fifth century, thanks to that technician sending a message to the nearby aliens. It was unclear what happened, or why. What was clear was that the aliens on Ranh had destroyed Earth's civilization before the temporal viewer had been built. They were now in a state of paradox: if Earth's civilization were destroyed then, the temporal satellite and all it contained could not have been built, but if the temporal satellite had not operated, Earth's civilization would not have been destroyed. At least that was their interpretation on what had happened.

The temporal viewer had indicated there was one and only one way to resolve this paradox in their favour. A Roman soldier, Gaius Claudius Scaevola had to be abducted by an alien zoo specimen collector, at which point Scaevola had to have evidence of having made some significant discoveries that would have changed the path of Roman civilization, had he not been abducted. The collector would be in Britain at a specified time. That meant that Scaevola had to be there too, and he had to have the freedom to be in the right area. The only way that could be achieved was if he were to be made Legatus Legionis of the twentieth legion.

So far, progress was adequate, but only just. Athene had given Scaevola two additional tasks in a prophecy she had conveyed while he was lightly asleep: one was to prove that the Earth went around the Sun, and the other was to build a steam engine. So far, they knew this part of the prophecy had delivered the desired outcomes, and in several timelines, Scaevola had been taken to the planet Ulse, and in the last two efforts, everything had just about worked, except that it had not. As Ralph Grenfell had noted, this was their last chance. Each chance required Athene to give her prophecy before Scaevola had had such a prophecy previously. This last time he had barely been asleep. It could not be repeated. That, however, did not mean they could not help further.

The problem this time was that Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus had revoked Scaevola's army position, which was as acting Legatus of the Cyrenaica. In previous attempts, he had returned to Damascus, and then been sent to Dalmatia. That almost certainly had to happen again, otherwise history would be changed very dramatically, and if it were changed that far back in time, anything could happen thereafter. Furthermore, the temporal viewer was unambiguous on one point: without further intervention, Scaevola would not be able to be in Britain and the paradox would be resolved, but not in their favour.

"I'm just scared I'll blow it," Grenfell said. "I don't even know what I'm saying. You should. ."

"We've been through that," Dr Chu said. "Caligulae is speaking to the statue of Jupiter. The statue is going to respond, but it has to sound like Jupiter."

"But my accent. ."

"Is that of a God," Athene insisted. "Caesar has no idea what that would be, and furthermore, we also say that you are Jupiter, Zeus, and a number of other Gods."

"Suppose he asks me something. ?"

"You're the boss God," Dr Chu patted him on the back. "You do not answer to mere mortals. You're doing this because you have by far the deeper and more impressive voice, and you ignore him. Pallas has given you some phrases to say in such a situation, and she'll indicate the number of the one you should use. You're a God. You are not arguing the point; you are telling him what to do, or else."

"As if we could back up an 'or else' threat?"

"As if he knows that," Chu shook his head. "Look, the only way of resolving this paradox in which humanity is not destroyed appears to require us to get Scaevola to Britain. If you back out, that's it, so take a deep breath and get on with it."

Grenfell nodded acceptance, and sat in the chair. Athene smiled encouragement, and began twirling dials.

* * *

Once again, Caligulae stepped up to the statue, smirked, and gave his usual tirade, challenging the mighty Jupiter to actually do something. But this time he was careless, and he slipped, fell, and bumped his head on the foot of Jupiter.

"Well, worm, is that adequate?"

"Wh what? Who said that?"

"You challenged. I replied."

"But. ."

"Yes, I know you have been wasting your time challenging a lump of rock to do something, and of course it cannot. But you did not call it a lump of rock. You invoked my name. You challenged me! This is merely to attract your attention."

"You mean. ."

"Listen carefully. My daughter, Minerva, Athene, whatever you wish to call her, is playing a game and you threaten to spoil it. Do not continue to spoil it, or you will pay."

"What do you want?"

"Gaius Claudius Scaevola must be made Legatus Legionis of the eleventh in Dalmatia. As an aside, Athene assures me he will be the most loyal of all, and his appointment is critical to retaining the Principate. Do not argue. Do it. At once! I shall not repeat this instruction, and instead if you remove Scaevola from his path, I shall remove you. This is your only warning."

At that point, Athene leaned over and threw a switch. The image of Caesar's bewilderment faded, and once again she patted Grenfell on the back. "Well done, Ralph."

"Shouldn't we have waited, in case. ."

"You were a God, Ralph. If you had waited, that would show weakness. The boss-god orders, and punishes; he does not start a discussion group with mortals."

"And the good news," Chu beamed, "is that we have recovered. Our probability has gone back to as good as it ever has been at this stage."

"But we are still in paradox, and Earth is still desolate," Grenfell pointed out.

"Yes," Chu nodded. "Now the question is, is there anything else we should do to try and improve those chances?"

Chapter 2

Once again, acting Legatus Gaius Claudius Scaevola stood before a mirror; once again, his reward for successfully carrying out his mission was that his commission was to be revoked. Previously, he would have returned to being a Tribune; now there was nowhere for him to go. Previously, a last-minute message arrived and saved him; this time there would be no last-minute message. He adjusted his helmet and prepared to leave his tent. He must not hold up the troops for no better reason than he did not wish to quit.

He must also disguise the fact that he felt awful; his stomach was attempting a major revolt, his mouth felt as if it were coated with sand, and his head was sore. The previous evening had been so pleasant as the Tribunes and Centurions had insisted on farewell drinks, but now he seemed to be paying for it. Nevertheless, no matter how bad he felt he must not show it, for if last night had shown him anything at all it was that he seemed to have earned some genuine respect amongst the troops. Now was not the time to show weakness.

As he left his tent he could not resist looking around to see if, once again, there would be a last-minute rescue, a last-minute message, but that was not to be. He marched forward, saluted the Tribunus Laticlavius and marched to the dais. The sun had now risen to about an eighth the way towards noon, and already its heat was making itself felt. Having to stand still with the sun beating on his armour was exactly what his sick feeling did not need, but such feelings had to be put to one side: Romans did their duty.

He thanked the assembled men for their loyalty and their devotion to duty, he announced that in the brief time he had been with them they had performed admirably and he wished them well for the future. His last order was to require them to march to their base in Egypt and give the same degree of loyalty to their new Legate. He saluted them, then he handed formal authority to the Tribunus Laticlavius.

At this moment it was customary for the men to give a cheer; they did, several times, and while his sore head was not prepared for it, he stood to attention and he formally saluted them all. He stepped back and then the orders for the first cohort to march were given. Gaius then walked over to and climbed a small stand beside the path to be used by the men as they left the fortification so that he could salute them, cohort by cohort, as they marched past to begin the march to Egypt.

As they marched, his mind drifted back to the prophecy he had received at the temple of Athene. There was something odd about this prophecy. Athene had promised her prophecy would be validated by a discussion on contraries and it had been. Or had it? Was it the existence of the prophecy that made him follow it? Was the making of the prophecy such that it became self-fulfilling? If that were the case, was the prophecy really a message? Was Athene, whoever she was, pushing him into doing something that otherwise he would not? The more he thought about this, the more he suspected it was true, but if it were true, who or what was Athene?

He saluted again, as the next cohort began to pass. They were good men, but they were also a killing machine. Fortunately, it had not been necessary to use them as such, and that brought his mind back to the prophecy.

The issue of the temple had come to pass, but that was not self-fulfilling. Caesar had ordered a statue of himself to be placed in the Temple of Jerusalem, and to save extraordinary bloodshed, he had to persuade Caesar to change his mind. Athene had prophesied that he would lead the most loyal of legions, that he would deny Athene, yet claim to be following her. All of this had inspired his letter to Little Boots, and according to Claudius, this letter had made a very favourable impression. Athene had said he would deny another God, yet his request for help from that God was essential. He had turned his back on Christianity, but he had asked the Christian Rebecca to pray to her God to change Caesar's mind, and Caesar had changed his mind. How could his request to a God he did not believe in have any effect? It could be nothing but a coincidence, but whatever it was, it was not self-fulfilling! The act of thinking about the prophecy might have made him do things he may not have done otherwise, but the act of making the prophecy could not have affected Caesar's actions because Caesar was unaware of it. So, maybe this prophecy was a message from the Gods, or from something, for the fact was, he did not really believe in the Gods. The Gods were simply lumps of stone that represented some of mankind's worst aspects.

Not that it made much sense in other ways. How could a dream tell what would happen in the future? It was just plain impossible, except it had happened. There were to be two women in his life. The first, the most beautiful of all, he would ignore. The second, the ugliest of all, he would scoff at. So far he had met neither, although it was possible he had met the first and ignored her totally. But if so, how could she have a critical part in his life?

Then there were the two strangest prophecies: he would make a revolutionary discovery that was critical to understanding physics, and he would make a revolutionary engine that would eliminate the need for slavery. Then the peculiar addition: neither would change anything in his lifetime, but both were critical to his achieving success and averting some terrible disaster. How could that be? Then he was promised military success, he would win major battles and earn a triumph.

So far, prospects were not good. He believed he had been successful in command, but of the major incidents so far, only one had been a battle, and two he had resolved through diplomacy. Possibly it was more bluff and luck than diplomacy, but nevertheless. . If he summed up where he had got to, he no longer had a military position; apart from his interpretation of contraries he had made no real progress on physics, while his engine was going nowhere quickly. Perhaps the one redeeming feature of his current situation was that while he had been with the Cyrenaica he had been far too busy to worry about either physics or engines; now he would have a lot of spare time.

His thoughts on physics were going nowhere, although to be fair, that was mainly because he had not really thought about it at all. Athene had required him to correct Aristotle's physics, and the correction would allow him to prove that the Earth was a planet that travelled around the sun. That seemed impossible, as shown by the fact that Timothy, his erstwhile teacher and now his friend, had provided proofs that the Earth was stationary and was not orbiting anything.

If his prophecy were real and not a dream, then the implication was that Athene knew the answer, and that Aristotle was wrong. Yet Timothy had provided proofs through physical observation that the Earth had to be stationary. Aristotle, the greatest mind ever, originally obtained these proofs and Aristotle would not be wrong, would he? According to Athene, Aristotle was wrong and if she were a Goddess, she should know. But if she were not a Goddess, then her knowing did not follow, unless. . Unless what? Then there was the problem that, if she were a Goddess, why was she trying to persuade him to do. . to do what? She had sent him on a mission, and from the way she told him in the dream, it was almost as if she did not know how to complete it either. Then there was her attitude; it was as if she needed him to succeed far more than he did.

So, assuming Aristotle was really wrong, what could he do? He could get around some of Aristotle's arguments, but Aristotle's physics had provided one point that seemed insurmountable: orbiting, or travelling in a circle, required continual force to change the direction. That force would have to be provided by the sun, and because the sun was always the same size, the Earth was always the same distance from it. That meant the Earth had to travel in a circle, which required the Earth to be continually falling towards the sun. Since heavier things fall faster than light things, the Earth should fall to pieces but it did not.

To make matters worse, it seemed quite obvious that the Earth was not moving. Suppose you were in a cart or chariot, and were being pulled by horses in full flight. Now, when the cart turned a corner, you tended to be flung against the side of the cart, or even worse, you could fall off the cart. Yet for the Earth to orbit, a continual force was required, the Earth would always be turning, and it would be travelling at speeds that made the fastest horses seem like somnolent snails. The problem was, people did not fall over or fall against walls, except when they were drunk.

That task was hopeless, which was why he had ignored it. Thinking about it was simply a waste of time, and added to which, as Timothy pointed out, even if he could falsify Aristotle's reasoning that did not mean that the Earth moved; it merely meant that Aristotle's reasoning was wrong. The problem was simple: to prove that Aristarchus was correct he had to find some observation that applied only if the Earth moved, for as Aristotle had pointed out, in logic there may be many hypotheses that could explain a fact, and such a fact did not prove any given hypothesis unless it were the only possible hypothesis.

One thing he was sure of was that movement had to be with respect to something else. Yes, there was the Sun, but that was no help. Even if you could prove the sun was not rotating and you could see the other side half the time, there was no way of telling it was the other side! Consequently, there was no way to prove the Earth moved around the sun. Except that whoever or whatever it was that called herself Pallas Athene said that he would. Well, if it were that important, she could have left a clue! She had a reason for why she hadn't too: she had said whether the Earth moved was unimportant; what was important was the method by which he proved that it moved.

Then there was the engine. He recalled that his last problem had been to work out how steam could generate power. It was not that steam did not have power, for he had previously seen the results of water heated in an enclosed vessel: the subsequent explosion was quite horrifying. The problem was how to control it, and make it do something useful.

His first thought had been to reverse the principle of a small hand water pump that he had seen once before. Instead of a hand pulling the piston up and down, sucking and pushing water, the steam could come and go, pushing a piston up and down. Simple! Except that it was not that easy. Valves could easily be designed to open when they were pushed from one side, and close when pushed from the other, so the water did what was asked of it, and a hand can equally push or pull. Steam, however, would only push. The problem with the entry valve was that the steam was always pushing, so closing it to stop steam entering was difficult. Worse, if the steam closed the exit valve while it was entering, it would push even harder while it was supposed to be exiting! What could he do?

After speaking on this to Timothy, he received the laconic reply, "Use geometry."

Great! How?

"Quite simple, really," Timothy shrugged. "You need two paths, and a means of switching."

"Explain!" a frustrated Gaius muttered. But Timothy was not that interested in going further. Conceptually, the task was done.

He saluted another cohort, then glanced out at the marching legion. Not far away was a small crossroads, and a number of carts were waiting patiently. Then, as one cohort passed through, a Centurion stopped the next cohort, and waved the carts through. That, Gaius realized, could be the principle. He needed valves that could be opened and closed, and he could see how to achieve that: he needed some form of controller to switch paths at the right times. A rocker arm would do that. The valve could comprise a single path with, say, a right angle in it, and it could switch between two positions. In one configuration it would connect the steam generator with the cylinder, and in the other, achieved by turning it ninety degrees, it would connect the cylinder with the exit route. That should work. The valve would comprise a cylinder with the path through it that moved tightly inside another cylinder with connecting paths to the steam, the piston, and the exit. That would be easy until, he realized, someone had to make this contraption, and join it to the various pipes.

If the piston drove a wheel, that wheel could drive the rocker arm, as it had to be in phase. The problem now reduced itself to working out how he could make levers pull or push one or more valves into one or the other position. He quickly realized that simply fixing the valve to a lever would not do, because most of the time the valve would be closed to everything. It needed to be fully open to steam through almost all the power stroke, and fully open to the exit through the venting stroke. After some thought, he settled on a rocker arm plus a lever. The rocker arm would have a pin, and the lever would permit the pin to slide up and down a space. Accordingly, when the lever reached close to one extreme of its path, it would pull the rocker arm, which in turn would move the valve one way; when it reached the other extreme it would push the rocker arm, which would push the valve to the other position. All he had to do then was get the timing right; that would be roughly calculated, but could be adjusted later by trial and error for finer tuning. If that did not work, an alternative might be a cam; a wheel that would rotate, but because of an asymmetry, such as a groove, or a different radius, would move a switch.

Now that he had defined the problem properly, there were so many possible solutions that he had a new problem: which of these were the most likely to work? He would think about this and design something, then make a model and see if he could make a lever from a wheel move a rocker arm between two positions on a regular basis with sufficient force to turn a valve.

Eventually, the last cohort was marching down the road, and Gaius could return to his tent. He changed into less formal clothing and sat down to an early lunch of bread, cheese and fruit, then he drank some water. Sooner or later he would have to pack up this tent and leave, but that could wait. His orders were to remain in Judea, which presumably meant proceeding to Caesarea. There was no hurry; he could get started tomorrow, and leaving it for tomorrow might save him effort as he understood that a few soldiers had been sent from Caesarea to assist him.

He had to find somewhere peaceful where he could be alone. There was an olive grove nearby; he would find some shade there, sit and think further on his invention. In the event, nothing came to him, but it was, nevertheless, very pleasant. For the first time in months he was not responsible for anything, and he intended to enjoy not doing anything, and taking a long time not doing it.

He was about to return to camp when he saw a man and a woman walking towards him, and from the way they had altered course after seeing him, and the woman had pointed at him, they were obviously looking for him. As he got up and they got closer, he recognized the woman: Rebecca, the Christian woman he had saved from being stoned for blasphemy by some Jewish fundamentalists.

"Greetings to you," he said, as they approached.

"Greetings," Rebecca replied. "Legatus, this is James, the brother of Jesus, and James, this is Legatus Claudius Scaevola."

"As it happens, I am no longer a Legatus," Gaius replied with a smile, "so I am afraid if you want something, I may not be able to help."

"I gather you were responsible for the extraordinarily large amount of money that was thrust upon us yesterday," James said. "We wish to thank you."

"You will thank me best by using it only for the benefit of the poor," Gaius replied.

"It will all be so used," James replied. "Why did you do that?"

"I chose you to distribute it because I thought you would be the most trustworthy for that purpose."

"What I meant was, why give it to the poor through Christians?"

"You think it was atonement for Romans crucifying your brother?" Gaius asked curiously.

"Was it?"

"Sorry if I disappoint you, but no, it wasn't."

"Good! I would only be disappointed if it were. But you haven't answered. Why?"

"Then this will probably disappoint you. I honestly don't have a good reason. I came across a group of Jewish thieves who were trying extortion on a caravan and a group of Roman auxiliaries who were probably also demanding money from the caravan for protection. I was really annoyed, but I didn't know what to do. Then that solution just came to me. It was the one solution in which nobody in the wrong could benefit, and the ones who did benefit were those who were completely innocent, at least on this matter, and who really needed help. I trust you to give it."

"And you didn't try to benefit yourself." This was a statement, not a question.

"Why would I?" Gaius said in a puzzled tone.

"That you ask that question is its own answer."

"You're going to try to convert me," Gaius smiled.

"No, I'm not," James shook his head. "There is no need to convert you, as you put it."

"You can't be both a priest and a Legatus," Rebecca added.

"My brother was a great teacher," James continued, "and he always insisted it's what you do that counts. The solution, as you put it, may have come to you, but it came from somewhere."

"And you know from where." This was also a statement.

"Where you think it came from is irrelevant," James shrugged. "What is important is that you listened."

"You must keep listening," Rebecca added. "There will be many more times. ."

"I'm afraid you're wrong there," Gaius gave a harsh laugh. "My reward for bringing peace and stopping unlimited bloodshed was. ."

"Your reverse will be temporary," Rebecca interrupted.

"You seem certain?"

"I am certain," she said. "If you keep listening to where your idea came from, you will do much good."

"I am a soldier," Gaius said in a slightly bemused tone. "A soldier's job involves killing."

"Yes, but what happens when you have won?" Rebecca asked.

"I see where you are going," Gaius nodded. "What I don't understand, though, is why you came to me?"

"You have done a good deed," Rebecca replied, "so I prayed for your soul."

"And?" Gaius asked impulsively.

"I received an answer," Rebecca said. "I was instructed to tell you that to find your own way, you must keep listening to the goodness in your heart and open your eyes so you will see all that is around you, open your mind so you can do something with what your eyes and ears provide, and when things seem to go bad, and they most definitely will, you must do what your heart tells you is right."

"I see," Gaius said, without any particular conviction.

"I was also told that you would doubt this," Rebecca continued, "but eventually you will see. In the meantime, you must listen. You should also do one more thing that the Master taught."

"Which is?"

"The Master taught that we should do unto others as we would wish them to do unto us. When you conquer, think about the conquered. Put yourself in their place, just for a moment."

"They would want us to leave," Gaius smiled, "and we're not going to do that."

"Yes, but if they accept that they are conquered, there are different ways of being treated."

"Yes, there are," Gaius nodded. A strange feeling came over him, as he realized that Athene had said almost the same thing. "I shall remember what you say."

"And now we must leave," James said, "for we have taken too much of your time. Again, thank you for the money, and may the Lord be with you, now and for ever more."

"And with you two," Gaius replied.

As he watched them walk away, he later told Timothy, for the first time since he had received his orders dismissing him from the legion, he felt at peace with himself. With the peace came realization: another part of the prophecy had been fulfilled. Perhaps his career was not yet over.

It was only later that another thought occurred to him: was Rebecca's answer from the same source as his prophecy?

When Gaius reached Caesarea, he reported to Marullus, Prefect of Judea. His instructions from Caesar had included continuing with his non-military career, and to assist the Prefect with administrative tasks, which might provide useful experience and might also benefit Judea. As it happened, Marullus was elsewhere, and it was unclear when he would return.

There was some news from Rome awaiting him. Lucilla had married Quintus. Strictly speaking, as eldest living male within the family, he, Gaius, should have arranged the marriage and given Lucilla away. Knowing his sister, the first part would have been impossible. As it was, there was no immediate male relation available and apparently this lack of available males made this the wedding of the year in Rome, for Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus announced that he had been instructed by the divine Tiberius to look after Lucilla, and he would honour that responsibility by giving Lucilla away, and by ensuring that Quintus would answer to the Princeps of Rome if he did not treat Lucilla properly. After considerable religious procedures, and considerable feasting, the spelt bread was duly eaten and Lucilla was taken into Quintus' house.

Quintus then decided that he would make himself responsible for the running of the family estate. His argument was there was nobody else to do it, given that the eldest son was absent. Even if his younger brother could have run the business, he too appeared to have died with the rest of his family in the cave-in. Gaius snorted at this news, and sent a message back that the Steward was doing a fine job, and while he, Gaius, appreciated Quintus' offer of help, the Steward would make the final decision. The Steward, after all, was answerable to the Head of the family.

He so wanted to return to Rome, but after much agonizing he accepted Claudius' advice. He could do nothing for the dead, but Little Boots could ruin his career. Without doubt, he thought bitterly, Little Boots considered this a sort of test. There was nothing for it, short of inciting a revolt, to sit back and await the pleasure of Little Boots.

Such was life. But however bad Little Boots might seem, at least it was not as bad as the last days of the Republic; when Caesar bribed his way to the Senate with Crassus' money and supported Crassus in his search for military glory, to the cost of how many Roman lives? When Caesar used legions to conquer and loot Gaul for no better reason than that he had to pay off the debts incurred while bribing his way to influence. When Caesar invaded Britain, then left largely because the tributes he got were as much as he felt he could milk easily from that wet and dismal land. Ironically, that gave Little Boots an out for his disastrous attempt to invade Britain for when the first Gaius Julius Caesar could not conquer Britain, somehow it did not seem as bad when the second one did not.

Not that that was much of a consolation. His immediate problem was Little Boots, and there seemed to be nothing he could do about such a problem.

Chapter 3

His thoughts returned to his engine. The only time he ever thought about his engine, he noted to himself wryly, was when things were going badly for him in every other way. Right now, they could hardly be worse, so he was back to it, perhaps on the basis that it was the only problem he had where he thought he could make any progress at all. The trouble was, he was not exactly making progress on it either. He needed inspiration, and moods like this were not the place to find it.

Until this point, he had really been playing with this concept of an engine. The engine had been a distraction, and a reasonably successful one for it had given him sufficient challenge during dark times that he never resorted to despair. However, now his general thinking was beginning to crystallize onto a final object, which meant that the time was approaching when he had to test his theories. To do that, he had to get things made so that he could assemble it, but before he started making things, he needed to make some decisions. The first decision was whether he would really commit to it. This was going to take a lot of time, and a lot of money. Did he really want to spend that time and money? But for Athene and her prophecy, the answer most certainly would have been, "No!" Now he almost felt he had to. From her tone, and her body language, it had seemed very important to her, but why?

Then, if he decided to proceed, he needed to know how big the final engine was going to be. There were two questions here: how big could it be, and how big did it have to be to demonstrate the principle. The smaller it was, the easier and cheaper it was to make changes if something went wrong. On the other hand, it had to be big enough to demonstrate that it could do something meaningful, and it should be designed in such a way that a larger version could easily be made, essentially as a scaled copy. He would have to think about this.

Meanwhile, if steam was going to drive this piston, he needed to get lots of steam in very quickly, which meant he needed big enough pipes. How big was 'big enough'? The issue really was, though, how big should, or perhaps it was could, he cast his cylinder? And his piston? Once he decided that, the valve had to be made so that steam could be driven in and out of the system, and fixed to the cylinder so that it would stay there.

That meant designing some means of fixing everything, but leaving room for anything that had to move. The valve, or valves, had to connect the cylinder to both the boiler and the condenser, which also had to have a means of returning water to the boiler. That would need a small return valve that might operate by opening the condensate to the boiler when its top valve was closed. This might be drivable through the same rocker arm, but the two valves would have to be some distance apart, so maybe not. Could he design a cylinder-type valve with two paths, one of which would do one job? What would it look like, and how could it be put together. Perhaps he should make wooden models made with his key pieces, and see if that would help his thinking on the layout.

Then he needed to build a much larger version, but out of what? Iron was the most desirable, but maybe bronze would be easier, at least to start with. Could he make a big enough mould? For bronze, at least the answer was yes, and even if he did not know how to do it, the casting of large bronze items had been done many times. If he specified what he wanted, he would find someone to cast it. The next problem was how to fit the valves? Fire-welding? Maybe. But if he could cast his cylinder with the end sealed, but with small piping extended for the valve or valves, that would be a lot easier later, and hopefully a lot stronger. This joining of things was becoming more of a problem than he had considered, largely because if his machine was going to do anything useful, the steam pressures were going to have to be very high, and that very same pressure that was going to do his useful work was also capable of blowing his machine apart.

He would think about it, and record his thoughts.

* * *

"Your engine won't go for long," Timothy warned, after Gaius had explained his latest designs, "if steam is flying everywhere."

"The trick is to recover the steam!" Gaius said triumphantly. "Let me think. I've got an idea on that too."

"And where does this recovered steam go?" Timothy asked.

"To another cylinder," Gaius explained. "There we condense it, and keep the water to reboil."

"And all your steam comes flying out when you try to put the water back in," Timothy pointed out.

"Just need a suitable valve," Gaius shrugged. "A minor detail! The most important detail is can we get anything to work at all?"

"I don't see the point of something that lasts just a few minutes," Timothy muttered.

"The point is, if you can make it work at all, you can work on the problem areas, improving them, and eventually you can make it work well. If you can't get anything out of it, you don't know what to do next, and sooner or later you give up."

"Which, of course, you have no intention of doing," Timothy nodded, almost in dismay.

"Not yet," Gaius shrugged.

Timothy stared at him, then finally asked, "Why this burst of enthusiasm for this steam motor?"

"Takes my mind off my problems," Gaius admitted. "Little Boots is doing what he can to mess up my career, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Slaves tend to have their careers messed up too," Timothy pointed out.

"It seems I never learn," Gaius shook his head. "I should never have given you that opening." He paused and looked ruefully towards a palm tree. "Yes, life's unfair, and I've had a better start than most, but I wasn't complaining. I was merely explaining. I'm really pissed off, but what can I do?"

"You Romans demonstrate interesting logic. You make all this fuss about the principles of the republic and why a king is bad, then you give yourself a bad king and ask, what can you do?"

"We put up with this," Gaius explained, "because the alternative, the end of the republic, was terrible. There's only so much civil war a country can stand, and don't give me all that nonsense about Greece. The only reason you Greeks didn't have civil war was that you were so busy fighting amongst yourselves you never had a nation."

"There's some truth there," Timothy nodded ruefully. "Anyway, about this valve. What do you want done?"

"I'll try to draw something," Gaius said. "You try to find someone to have a go at making it. I know, it'll cost, but I'm determined. Now, let me think about this return system for the water to get back in the boiler. That seems easier. All you need is a cylinder with a valve that lets in steam and a valve that lets out water, and a way of making sure they can't both be open at the same time. It's also desirable to have some way of cooling the steam, because the quicker it can be converted back to water, the more likely it is that the steam will exit the cylinder. Then all we've got to. ." he mused and then eventually grinned as he said, "we've got to find a slave to sit on the contraption and pull the lever up and down from time to time!"

Timothy gave Gaius a look of despair, then he shrugged and walked away.

* * *

Gaius had been in Caesarea less than a week when another boat came from Rome, and it brought him messages. It was with more than a little trepidation that he put a small bag aside and opened the seal on a message from the Princeps.

"To the saviour of temples, I hereby award you something appropriate. As you still wish to serve Rome, proceed forthwith to command Legio XI, usually at Burnum, but currently stationed at Lussonium. Thanks to Calvisius Sabinus, the loyalty in this region is suspect. Bearing in mind your orders from a Goddess, I look forward to receiving your assurances that you will address this problem. G."

Gaius could hardly believe the message. In principle, his career was back on track. Then there was the question of Rebecca: she had been so certain. Why was she so certain? She said she had prayed, and received a response. Did that mean there really was a God, and these Christians were the favoured people. Or did it mean she had had a vision not unlike his? Was this further evidence of some force at work that was playing with him?

It did not matter. What did matter was that he had orders, and also a small bag from the Princeps. He opened the bag and stared in surprise. In addition to what went with the office, there were two additional vexillae carrying the standards of the Fulminata and the Cyrenaica, showing his experience. There was also a decoration that had the silver spearshaft of the hasta pura. However, that was all that was orthodox, since, instead of the head being a spear, the shaft terminated with a small silver temple. A strange decoration, but since specifically mentioned as an award by the Princeps, albeit an erratic Princeps, he was marked as an unusual Legate.

There was a further message, this time from Claudius. He, Claudius, had heard Gaius, the Princeps, muttering about this position, and the lack of anybody suitable and trustworthy to take it, so he said he could easily find someone to fill it. Gaius Caesar had laughed and said, "Why not! It's about time you did something useful." He sat back and laughed in disbelief at the prospect, then added, "C C C C Claudius, d d d d don't p p p p p p piss yourself. Try not to bring Rome to her knees with laughter."

Accordingly, I appointed you. Little Boots roared with laughter, muttered something about having appropriate religious convictions and divine support, and said that he was always going to make you special. So please, Claudius concluded, try not to be too embarrassing.

Gaius looked at this, and, after a moment's thought, realized a reply was required. He wrote back, thanking the Princeps, accepted the position, and swore that he would ensure Legio XI would be the most loyal of the legions to the Princeps of Rome. He also wrote to Claudius, thanking him, and assured Claudius that he would justify the trust he had placed in him.

Chapter 4

Gaius wrapped his cloak more tightly. For the people who lived in this region, this was probably a pleasant autumnal day, but after Judea it felt cold. The breeze was rustling through the leaves, dislodging some, and a light scattering of the browner leaves covered the track. The strange quietness struck Gaius; apart from the leaves, there was little sound. He looked over his shoulder. The six horsemen were watching the flanks, while two others were helping push the small wagon up the hill. It was a good thing the track was dry, Gaius thought. After a good rain, since the track was essentially earthen, it would quickly turn into a bog. Not that that need worry him; it was firm now, they were making good time, and by his calculation they would reach their destination well before there was any chance for rain.

Before him was what appeared to be the top of a saddle. As he approached the top, the forward scout appeared, his hand held up in the sign for caution and silence. Gaius quickly rode forward.

"About four hundred men, probably Iazyges, on the other side of that hill. For the moment, they can be ignored, but there is also one of their scouting parties on the track ahead, heading for a small but important bridge."

"Important?" Gaius frowned.

"It crosses a narrow but deep river at a ravine," the scout explained. "It's really the only way across. Either. ." He stopped.

"Either?" Gaius queried.

"It's not my place to decide. ."

"Opinion?" Gaius commanded.

"Either we cross that bridge, and if necessary fight our way through that scouting party, in the next half hour, or we should turn back and hope they haven't found us."

"You don't fancy taking on a few hundred?"

"Since you ask, no sir."

"Neither do I," Gaius nodded, "especially not in the open."

Gaius scanned across the land before him. In better times, he thought, this scene could be described as rather beautiful. The autumn colours were very striking, and went for miles as the land dropped away. The problem, he thought to himself, reduced itself to being able to get to the bridge before the main body of the opposition. According to the scout they should easily manage that and turning back was not an attractive option. The cart was leaving fresh tracks and the horses would be tiring. If the Iazyges found the track, and if they were looking for trouble, they would quickly conclude that a small party was afraid of them.

On the other hand, he did not know as yet that these Iazyges wanted to fight. For all he knew they could be a trading party, or merely poachers. Then consider the reputation of a new Legatus who fled before a trading party with permission to be there. There was that phrase uttered by Little Boots: 'Try not to bring Rome to her knees with laughter'. Yes, that left little choice.

"We make haste for the bridge," Gaius said. He turned to Timothy, now that the cart had drawn level. "There's a small bridge ahead," Gaius said, "which we must reach as quickly as possible, but while making as little noise as possible." He paused, then added, "Go as quickly as you can, but leave the horses enough reserve in case we have to make a final charge. Fortunately it is almost all downhill. You other men! Two to remain with the cart, the rest with me! We shall go ahead far enough that if we have to fight off a scouting party, we can do it without slowing up the cart." He then nodded to the others, and gave the signal to advance.

They covered the first half of the distance without incident. Gaius was pleased, because he could not hear the party behind, but when he looked back at an appropriate time, they were keeping up a good speed. The cart was making very little sound on the earthen track, and the wind rustling in the trees seemed to dampen what sounds were made. The track now wound along the side of a number of steep hills, the river they had to cross meandered along below them, as if in no particular hurry to lose its independence to the mighty Danube it would soon join. The terrain was ideal. The probability of a flanking attack was zero, other than somebody rolling boulders down from above.

They rounded a rather steep bluff and there before them they could see the track wind down to the bridge. The land had flattened into a small open plateau, devoid of cover. Ideally he should wait for the cart, then all should charge towards the bridge together, so as to leave their existence hidden for as long as possible.

However, the situation was not ideal. Just before the bridge was a carriage, lying on its side. A small number of Roman soldiers were fighting off the scouting party, and a number of horses, presumably belonging to these men, were wandering off. Behind them, apparently giving orders, was a wretched woman! She, presumably, had gone for a "drive in the country" and she was of sufficiently important rank to warrant dragging soldiers out as an escort. Now, not only was she going to pay for this piece of self-indulgence, but so were the soldiers. Why anyone thought the frontiers were places for picnics was incomprehensible.

Not that that mattered. If Roman citizens were in distress, the Roman army would fight. Never mind the stupidity behind the situation. Successful attacks on Roman citizens would only encourage further attacks. In any case, retreat was now not an option; they were too close to the bridge, and the horses too tired to permit the cart to start fleeing up-hill. As the cart came into distant view, Gaius gave the signal for urgency, then he gestured to his other soldiers, they drew their lances and held them in the fighting position, and Gaius signalled the advance.

The scouting party numbered about twenty and were so sure of a quick victory nobody was watching their rear. The first they knew of Gaius' party was the sound of horses riding across earth. They turned to see six horsemen with six lances virtually upon them. There was no time to move; the horses passed and six lances were embedded in six falling bodies. As the lances struck, the victims screamed. Screams from behind distracted those in the front, and well-drilled Roman soldiers knew an opening. Another four men fell, blood oozing from their ruptured lower bodies.

Gaius looked up and his satisfaction turned to anger. The woman, rather than staying behind the soldiers, had somehow got around behind the fight and was fleeing across the bridge. She was not going to make it because she was being pursued by a man who, from his more expensive clothing and shield, appeared to be the leader of the raiders. If she were captured, and, as seemed likely, were rich, his first task as Legate, assuming he survived this skirmish, would be to try to rescue her. If the raiders killed her, and, as was likely, she was known to Little Boots, his career was dead in the water right then. Worse, on that narrow bridge, he could not use his horse to advantage. He pulled his horse away from the fight, rode towards the bridge, and in one move, dismounted, secured the horse and grasped shield and cavalry sword.

Instead of risking all on getting to the woman first, the raider turned to face him. In the open his larger sword could be used freely. With a yell, the man charged at Gaius and swung. This was easily parried, but as Gaius moved forward to thrust, he found nothing there; his opponent had leaped back as he noticed the shield would stop the blow. The man had skill, Gaius noted.

The man had now backed onto the arched stone bridge with waist-high walls. A sideways glance showed that the water was a surprising distance below. Gaius now advanced onto the bridge and neither man could pass the other. The problem was, Gaius alone had to think about his back. He had to trust his men.

Gaius had often wondered what he would feel like if faced with a man who could kill him. As he was to remark later, he was a little surprised to find that he could see nothing but the man in front of him, but he could see that man with total clarity. He could almost sense every twitch, and when he saw a slight tightening of the lips he knew the move was coming. At that instant he leaped slightly to his left and thrust his shield forward with everything he had, pushing the centre of it at the sword shoulder. The timing was perfect. The man had brought his arm back to get a better swing, and it was just beginning to come forward when the shield charge came. He faltered, stepped back, and to the side away from Gaius' leap, but struck the stone wall on the side of the bridge. With nowhere to go, and off balance he found himself pinned by the shield, with no defence to the sword driving up through his ribcage. The body went limp, then fell over the bridge wall. Gaius watched the body, sword and shield fall into the water below. Three satisfying splashes, a smear of red, and his enemy was gone.

A glance behind him showed that the fight was over and the Roman soldiers were now checking the wounded. He sensed that the woman was approaching and it was just as she was beginning to thank him, a thought struck him. Three satisfying splashes! He nodded to the woman, then noticed the soldiers standing around, as if everything was over. He gave an abrupt order to gather up spare weapons and to gather the wounded together, and when there seemed to be uncertainty as to whether to obey, he spat the order out again and turned back to the bridge. Behind him, he could hear the Centurion spit out more orders, orders that would be promptly obeyed. He stared at the river. Something was wrong, and the image would not get out of his mind. Three splashes. The woman stared at him, then slightly angrily she turned towards the wounded.

Three splashes. What was it? Yes! Three splashes at the same time! The steel sword, the large wooden shield and the body struck the water at the same time, more or less. But if heavy things fell faster, or even if denser things fell faster, there should be a sequence of splashes. But no! There had been three satisfying splashes more or less simultaneously.

A strangely intense but very calm feeling overwhelmed him. The Greek philosophers were wrong! Or at least some of them were. Things fell at the same rate. The Earth could move around the Sun, because all the things on the Earth were falling at exactly the same rate. Things fell towards each other, and towards much bigger things! The Moon was falling around the Earth because it was the closest biggest body, and both fell around the Sun because it was bigger still, even if it was further away. Aristarchus was correct! Everything was suddenly so clear, as if a veil had been drawn from his face. For over a minute he stared at the water below, marvelling at the simplicity of it all.

Then he turned to face the others. Timothy had just arrived with the cart.

"Take it over the bridge," Gaius ordered, "then two of you start cutting lance-stakes." He turned towards the Centurion who had been escorting the woman. "Get that carriage back onto the road, and get this woman back to safety, as quickly as. ."

"The axle's broken!" The Centurion said in a matter of fact tone.

"I see," Gaius nodded. "Then get the wounded to the other side of that bridge now, and. "

"These men need care!" The woman in interrupted.

"Yes, on the other side of the bridge!" Gaius retorted, and turned back towards the Centurion.

"Who do you think you're giving orders to?" The woman again. She had to be influential, because the Centurion stared between the two, uncertain of what to do.

"There're about four hundred of those raiders up there!" Gaius said, and pointed. To his surprise, a line of horsemen appeared on the brow of the hill. "The bridge gives us the only chance of defence."

The Centurion gave a quick glance, then suddenly became more urgent. "Move the men!" the Centurion ordered. "You three, get that carriage out of that ditch." As an experienced Centurion, he may have doubted who was in charge, but he knew trouble when he saw it, and he knew what to do about trouble.

"You!" Gaius said to a soldier who was walking toward the bridge. He seemed to be reasonably fit, except his right arm was bandaged and he was obviously wounded. "You can ride a horse?"

"Yes."

"Take one and go get help!"

"The man's wounded!" The woman again.

"And we'll be dead unless we get help," Gaius remarked coldly. "He can't fight with an arm that can't move, but he can probably sit on a horse, and it looks as if the bandage has more or less stopped the bleeding. He goes."

"I'll go!" the woman said.

"No!" Gaius countered. "There are still more wounded to be tended to, and you seem to know what you're doing." He did not want to add that he was not going to send a woman alone, and that he doubted she would have the influence to get help.

"It's all right," the soldier said to the woman. "I'll manage." The soldier walked to the horse, and was helped onto it. "I'll have help quickly," he said to the woman.

He was about to set off when Gaius called out to him. "When you get to Lussonium," he said firmly, "you may tell the men that a slow response time will really piss off their new Legatus, and assuming he survives, a pissed off Legatus has the authority to order more than enough drills that they will never be slow again!"

"Yes sir!" The soldier suddenly realized that haste on his part was a good idea, and he rode rapidly. Gaius was also amused to see that the other soldiers had dramatically increased their efforts.

"Well?" Gaius said to the woman, who was standing there uncertain about what to do since her authority appeared to have been usurped. "We haven't got much time, and there's a lot to do. To start with, there are soldiers still needing you." He nodded dismissively towards her, as if to say, 'Well, get on with it!' then turned away from her, and began giving a sequence of instructions to other soldiers. The woman was almost furious at being ordered, then she realized that he had a point. Some of her escort were groaning with pain, and trying to staunch blood. Yes, she should try to do something to help. As she bent over her first patient, she looked back and frowned. The stranger who, she admitted, had saved her life, was picking up rocks.

Gaius had the largest rock he could carry in one hand, and a small stone in the other. He walked over to the bridge, stared down, and dropped. Two satisfying splashes, both at the same time. Twice it worked! He looked towards the hill. The raiders were now almost at the bottom, then there would only be a few minutes. The carriage was almost in place.

"Lock it in place!" he ordered, "and fix on your palisade stakes in the hedgehog formation."

"Sorry, sir," the Centurion said. "The men didn't bring their stakes. It was not intended to camp and. ."

"Then we'll have to rely on the stakes just cut," Gaius nodded. "Fix the long ones to the cart like this," and he wedged it in place, with a point sticking forward, a formidable obstacle to a horse attempting to leap the cart.

"Get to it!" the Centurion ordered.

"You two!" Gaius said to two of the soldiers who were standing back, as there was no room for them. "Go gather up anything that will burn. Timothy, find a spot near the bridge and get a fire started. Centurion?"

"Sir?"

"Who are your two best archers?"

"Hardly matters," the Centurion replied. "We have no bows. ."

"If you have two people who can use a bow, there are four bows and a pile of arrows in my cart. Timothy and I shall use two. Find two others."

The Centurion nodded, and selected two soldiers.

"You lot," Gaius turned towards the two soldiers who had been gathering up dry wood and leaves. "Pack that cart with whatever will burn, but don't light it yet. Timothy, make sure that fire is going well, and get some good sized sticks burning, so we can throw them on the cart and get it to burn well when we have to. You other soldiers, gather stones for your slings if you've got them, then line up on the side of the bridge. What we do is this. If horses charge, slingers will throw at riders before they reach the bridge, archers only shoot at enemy on the bridge. Three of you take these longest stakes, and impale anyone trying to leap across the cart. If they come on foot, Centurion, form lines of three on the bridge to deal with anyone clambering over the cart. And if you have any Gods who smile on you, now would be as good a time as any to ask for assistance!"

The sound of horses was now clear, and the riders stormed up a small rise and into view. Then they slowed, staring at the bridge. About six of them clearly believed they could leap across the cart, so they formed up for the charge.

"Slingers, throw when you think you can hit. Archers, steady. . steady. ." The horsemen were almost on the bridge when one fell off, struck by a stone. "Steady. ." Gaius raised his own bow. "Steady. . Fire!" Another man was struck by a stone, and fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder and swearing. Then three men fell, arrows in their chest. Gaius quickly took another arrow and let fly at the remaining horseman who was unsure of what to do. He watched with satisfaction as the target slid to the ground.

"Hold!" Gaius ordered.

The raiders were now unsure of what to do. They had clearly realized that the width of the bridge would permit no more than two horses at a time, or perhaps three foot-soldiers with room to wield weapons. While the raiders had clear numerical superiority, it was of no immediate value in a frontal charge. The obvious next step was to try to shoot the defenders with arrows, and a small group of archers were assembling.

"Timothy," Gaius said, "help the young lady put the wounded on the cart." He turned towards the young woman and asked, "Can you manage to drive a horse and cart?"

"Of course, but. ."

"No buts!" Gaius said firmly. "Take the wounded and get the hell out of here, but leave as many horses as you can. Take the cart to the legion base at Lussonium, and remember, it's my cart, and my belongings."

"There may be more wounded. I should stay and. ." she began.

"There will be more wounded," Gaius said harshly, "and more dead but that cart full of wounded can only go so fast. If it stays, we have to hold or die. But if we can buy you enough time, those remaining horses give the rest of us some chance. Now go, and don't argue!" He then turned his back on her, to survey the enemy.

She stared at him in anger, until Timothy took her hand. "There's not much point in fixing their wounds and leaving them to be butchered," he shrugged. "Once those archers come, there's no way to protect the wounded."

She looked at him, was about to say something, then thought better of it. Some of the larger objects were thrown from the cart to make way for the wounded, but she was surprised to see Timothy carefully put one box that she had taken off back onto the cart.

"If Gaius survives this," he grinned, "he won't thank you for throwing away his most valuable possessions!"

"It's interesting to know that he trusts me with them," she retorted.

"Take a look!" Timothy shrugged. "He's betting you're hardly interested."

Curiosity did get the better of her, and while Timothy was helping a wounded soldier up onto the cart, she opened the first box. There were a number of bits of metal, with really strange ridges carved on them, going around and around, with little or no artistic merit. An enormous amount of work for no point! Then there were these funny looking square things, with holes in the middle, and they had carvings too!

"You could try helping with the wounded," Gaius remarked. She looked around to see her watching her, with a look of amusement on his face.

"I'm not going to steal them," she said, her face going a slight red.

"I didn't think you would," he shrugged, "but the enemy are finally getting organized, and the sooner you lot are out of here, the better."

She nodded, and helped Timothy get another soldier onto the cart.

Eventually, she climbed onto the front of the cart and flicked the reins. As the cart began to move forwards, she looked over her shoulder. This stranger was organizing the men to form a shelter with the locked shields.

Gaius had noticed that the archers alone had marched forward. He and his men sheltered behind the shields in the approved legionary fashion as the arrows rained down, and as usual the shield wall offered almost total protection, and no damage was done. Then three of the braver ones could be heard mounting the barricade. A shield wall as wide as the bridge advanced, and the thrusting gladii quickly left three badly wounded draped on the top of the barricade. The Romans drew back, to let the enemy's moans fill the air.

The enemy's next move was to form a small file of foot soldiers. As they marched forward, the four Roman archers poured three volleys into them. Men began dropping, the file faltered, then they began to retreat.

The Roman soldiers were silent. They knew that by now the enemy must decide to launch a full attack, or withdraw. The enemy began to rearrange themselves into an attack formation, with foot soldiers at the front and archers to the rear. The cavalry were to the side. As the formation advanced Gaius watched, and then, just as the cavalry began to look as if it might offer a charge, he jumped up onto the barricade.

"You saw that cart go!" he yelled. "That contained all the valuables. You're going to die for nothing!"

"We'll kill you!"

"Maybe, but at what cost, for what? Go while you can!"

The enemy paused, there was some discussion, then the formation began to move forward again. Gaius jumped back down to safety.

The enemy had fired several volleys of arrows, none of which did any damage, before Gaius ordered the first response. The first four arrows went on expected trajectories, but when the enemy raised their shields for protection, another four arrows were loosed on low flat trajectories. Three men fell. Then the enemy began to charge.

Seven volleys were fired before the enemy reached the barricade. Now the enemy had to stop firing arrows, but they could still only get three to four men on the bridge at a time. Gaius had ordered three Romans to stand abreast, shield locked, at the barricade, and three more behind. Further back, and to the sides of the bridge, the four with bows sent every arrow they could find into the enemy.

The defence held. The men attacking the barricade could not stand up, for fear of offering an easy target for an arrow, but by crawling over the barricade they could get little force into any blow, and at the same time their shields were too clumsy to stop the thrusting blows of the stakes and gladii. Then, as those at the front became wounded, those behind had to help them back. Those pushing from the rear made it impossible to clear the wounded.

There were increasing screams of pain, swearing, and all the time the Romans kept thrusting, wounding, with the same efficiency of a team chopping trees.

By now the Iazygians were climbing a writhing screaming bloody ramp of their own wounded. Gaius had been watching this development, and realized that soon they would be leaping down onto them. At that point, the position became indefensible. The only possibility was to buy some more time. Gaius signalled Timothy to light the cart. He then turned to the Centurion. "When the flames get up, get the men who will not have horses to run as fast as they can towards Lussonium. Timothy, two archers, and I shall stay behind and hold them off with arrows for as long as we can."

"Sir, with respect, you should leave, and. ."

"There're four horses tied to that tree over there," Gaius remarked, "one of which is mine. There 's another couple over there for two others. We can ride, but those without horses need a start. Just do what I say."

The Centurion looked as if he was about to argue, then he had to turn and step into the line as one of the soldiers fell back, a spear through his throat.

The enemy were almost over as the flames began to reach up. Timothy had done a good job; within a minute the cart was a roaring inferno. Terrible screams of pain could be heard on the far side as the pressure from the rear was driving men into it. Men began to leap from the top, hair singed, faces burned. These were quickly killed. Then as the terrible smell of burning flesh drifted across, the Centurion nodded agreement, and four soldiers began to run towards Lussonium.

The two remaining archers took their positions with Gaius and Timothy on a small rise well back from the fire. For almost a quarter of an hour the fire was too intense for anyone to approach, then slowly it began to diminish. Then some men approached from the far side with a thin tree trunk, intending to try to push the burning cart away. Gaius fired one arrow, and although it missed, the men dropped the trunk and ran.

More men approached, this time with shields held together to protect those with the trunk. Gaius could see that there was little hope of delaying the opponents much longer, so he ordered no arrows to be fired. Slowly the burning cart began to move, then it disintegrated with a huge shower of sparks, flames, and extra heat.

"Inside ten minutes they'll start crossing," Gaius said calmly. "Once they're off the bridge, that's it. It's nearly time for the horses."

Eight minutes later the first man braved the fire to dash through, to be caught by an arrow. Then more men.

"Go!" Gaius roared. They let off their last arrows, and scrambled towards the horses. Gaius noticed one man seemed to be more important than the rest. He took quick aim, fired, then scrambled for the remaining horse.

When the horses reached the forest track Gaius ordered them to slow.

"They won't get horses through that fire for another few minutes," he said. "If we don't break horses's legs, we're safe."

They were safer than he expected. Ahead he could hear horses: a cavalry detachment from Lussonium. The raiders should have just about cleared the bridge for horse traffic by the time the cavalry arrived. The party slowed, and moved to one side of the track.

Chapter 5

Gaius had originally intended to arrive at Lussonium as inconspicuously as possible. That was no longer possible, and a crowd of civilian spectators and some soldiers greeted them. Eventually he found the military headquarters, and presented himself.

"You had a spot of bother?" the previous commander smiled.

"Yes, and I still have," Gaius admitted. "I am supposed to present myself to take up position as Legatus but my papers and most of my other belongings are on my cart that was used to bring back wounded, or maybe even thrown off the cart to make room, and I can't find the cart."

"I'll arrange for the Centurion who was with you to organize a party to go and retrieve any property. Tell me something about yourself? The names of your family, the name of the chief steward on your ranch, say."

Gaius obliged.

"This tent is yours!" the ex-Legate said. "I'm not sorry to be returning to Rome."

"I could be the wrong person," Gaius pointed out.

"You could," he replied, "but it appears you know how to command and fight."

"I presume this legion has the job of stopping those sort of raids?" Gaius remarked. "Have we any information on who did that?"

"My men. ." He paused and corrected himself, "Your men, sorry, will have prisoners. We shall find out where they came from, but I can tell you now. The other side of the Danube."

"We need boats. Have we any?"

"You in some sort of a hurry?"

"Winter's coming," Gaius replied. "Once it is well established it will be difficult to mount an expedition, and I feel that once word of the circumstances of my arrival filters through, lack of action might encourage further raids."

"You don't want to be viewed as a weak commander?"

"No, I don't, and it is also desirable," Gaius acknowledged ruefully, "that the Princeps hears of missions accomplished rather than complaints about inactivity."

"But not missions failed."

"It may not be desirable to return from an abject failure," Gaius nodded, then with a grin, added, "so your comfortable future may be a little further off than you wish."

"My men won't fail so you'd better not. And remember, you'll have to clear it with Governor Plautius first," the ex-Legate warned.

"Any advice you can offer on that would be welcomed." Gaius began to realize that those on the other side of the Danube might not be his only problem.

"He's a very cautious man," the ex-Legate said, after a moment's pause, "not that I would want that spread about."

"Any advice stays between the two of us," Gaius assured him.

"It may be hard to persuade him to show aggression," the ex-Legate offered. "On the other hand, if you can get on the right side of him, he's very well connected. One of his ancestors' cousins was a friend of the delightful Livia, and said cousin was the mother of Plautia Urgulanilla. ."

"Which gets you rather close to the Imperial family," Gaius nodded, as he suddenly realized the significance of the 'Plautia'.

"Exactly, and there's more. His wife, Pomponia Graecina, comes from a very illustrious family, which includes Vipsania Agrippina. ."

"Tiberius' wife?" Gaius asked.

"The same."

"I see," Gaius said slowly. A cautious man who could break him, and a Princeps who wanted things to happen. Not exactly a good mix. "Nevertheless, at the very least I need to be able to advise Governor Plautius that at least I know how to carry out a raid. Have we got boats?"

"We'll have those that brought that lot over, and you can get more."

"I shall inform the Tribunes I'm planning a retaliatory attack and I'll want all logistics information at their fingertips. Then I'll have to work out a way to get to meet Governor Plautius."

"Then tune up your social graces," the ex-Legate smiled. "You've got a dinner invitation for tonight. One of the more influential Roman families."

"I look forward to it," Gaius said formally, if not entirely truthfully.

"I suspected as much," the ex-Legate said with a condescending smile. "Governor Plautius will be there, and I'm sure he will be interested to meet his new military firebrand!"

* * *

The cart was soon found, and Gaius was pleased to see that all his valuables were still present. With nothing much else to do for the afternoon, he set about enquiring about smiths: who was available, who was skilled, and where were they? There was a choice of two, so he selected the one he felt was most suitable and introduced himself and Timothy to him. A good number of sesterces had the man's interest, and he assured Gaius that he would be able to cast something out of bronze that would follow Gaius' diagrams.

* * *

Gaius nodded at the doorman, and stepped forward. Formal dress was not his strong suit. The toga was an item of clothing that could either look highly formal and convey great wisdom and dignity, or look like a long sheet of cloth that had been thrown over the body. Somehow, it always seemed to look like the latter on him. He also had to overcome the feeling that he should adjust it from time to time. Somehow, it never felt right. On the other hand, other men were not continually fiddling with their togas, probably because they had the knack of wearing them properly.

He had to forget about this wretched toga. There was the host, and accompanied by a very beautiful woman. The woman from the bridge. Young enough to be the host's daughter, and from the facial likeness, she probably was.

"Gaius Claudius Scaevola," he introduced himself.

"The Princeps mentioned you," the man nodded. "I am Publius Valerius Messala."

"You get on well with the Princeps?" Gaius asked politely.

The man stared at him, then laughed bitterly and said, "You survive with Little Boots, as I thought you might have gathered."

"I've heard rumours," Gaius replied stiffly.

"Well put, young Claudius," the man nodded. "Oh, my daughter, Valeria Vipsania. I gather you've met."

"I've met him," Vipsania responded calmly. "He ignored me."

Gaius stared at her, and gasped. She was incredibly beautiful, or at least he thought so. And then a sudden thought struck him. The prophecy! She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he had really ignored her. That left. . the ugliest one of all!

"He did have other things on his mind," her father said calmly. "There was a defence to organize."

"He did that with remarkable efficiency," Vipsania said, "and even made spare time. And guess what he would rather do in that spare time than talk to me?"

"I hate your guessing games," her father admitted.

"He'd rather drop stones off the bridge." She turned to Gaius and challenged, "That's true, isn't it."

"That'll look impressive on a report to Little Boots," Gaius said wistfully.

"On a par with collecting Neptune's treasures, instead of invading Britain," Vipsania challenged. "I presume there was a reason."

"To win a bet with you," Gaius responded impulsively.

"What makes you think I'd want to bet with you?" came the curious reply. At least, Gaius noticed, it was not derisive.

"Romans love betting," Gaius said.

"Roman men like betting," Vipsania corrected.

"But you think you're as good or better than a man," Gaius found himself saying. Once in, there was no going back. "You're bound to think you're cleverer than me."

"Perhaps I am."

"Then you'll take the bet to prove it."

She looked at him cautiously. "So what is this bet?"

"I take a piece of steel," Gaius said, "a piece of rock four times as heavy, and probably about ten times as big, and a piece of lead about the same size as the steel, but twice as heavy, and I drop them off the bridge at the same time. I bet you can't tell me what order they'll hit the water."

"This is important?" Vipsania asked with a frown.

"It is if you want to win bets."

"Well, Vipsania?" her father asked. "Seems a good bet. He can't cheat, and you're always moaning to me about the cruelty of Little Boots' games."

"And what do you think about gladiators?" Vipsania stared at Gaius.

"Totally uncivilised," Gaius shrugged, "although to be fair, I've never been to see any."

"You've never been to any?" she asked in surprise, touched with disbelief.

"I told you his family were. . shall we say. . at best unusual," her father smiled.

"Anyway," Gaius turned the conversation back to his challenge, "you wish to offer a guess?"

"Everyone knows the answer to that," she said with a touch of disbelief that anyone could even contemplate considering this a problem. "The order is the order of weight, and provided they are weighed properly first that's obvious."

"How much do you wish to bet?" Gaius smiled.

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"I bet you're wrong," Gaius replied evenly. "So, if you're right, what do you want, or, put it another way, if I'm right, what do I get."

"You're serious?" she looked at him. "You must be mad."

"You want?" he challenged.

"OK, if you wish to go ahead with this stupidity," she frowned, "you clean out our host's pigsties, and I mean you, personally."

"Now there's a challenge," her father grinned. "I ought to warn you, young Claudius, that verges on a Herculean task."

"Accepted," Gaius shrugged, "provided you accept a task of similar unpleasantness if you lose."

"So you think the lead will hit first?" Vipsania frowned.

"No. I think provided they are all released at the same time, they will hit more or less together."

"That's silly!"

"Then accept the bet!" he challenged, and turned to take a goblet of wine from a tray that was being carried around.

"You've got an open-ended. ."

"No! Your father is a witness. No harmful tasks, just unpleasant."

She looked at him more thoughtfully, then said, "I'm curious. Just what horrible task have you got in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I haven't got anything in mind, and I probably never will." He paused, then added, "I can't see how I win by making you miserable."

Her look was almost respectful as she said, "You know the answer, don't you?"

"You don't think I really want to clean out your pigsties, do you?"

"You're a philosopher," she said, "like those ancient Greeks."

"Ssshhhh!" he said, turning in mock furtiveness. "Can't let Timothy hear that!"

"Who's Timothy?"

"A Greek who was with me at the bridge, and who's trying to turn me into one of those philosophers," he laughed. "So now my secret's out, why are you out in the frontiers?"

"It's a long story," she smiled, "and rather boring for a soldier."

"Maybe not for a philosopher," he countered, as he indicated to a servant that Vipsania might need more wine. "There's no knowing what a philosopher could be interested in."

So she told him about her father's need to be out of Rome, away from Little Boots. Pannonian wine seemed to be as good a reason as any. As to why she was there, frankly it was more important for her to be away from Little Boots, who had apparently decided it was his solemn duty to deflower virgins.

"It can't be that bad," Gaius said, although not totally with conviction.

"It is," she replied. "In fact, Little Boots has ordered my father back to Rome, and believe me, Little Boots has no interest at all in Pannonian wine." She shuddered.

"Then you stay here while your father goes back," Gaius shrugged.

"You think that's safer?" she queried. "It's the frontier, and. ."

"If you can avoid silly rides in the country, nobody will touch you." He paused, then added, "I'll put the word around that you're under my protection. Everyone knows that as Legatus I can most certainly provide protection and impose retribution."

"I'll see what father has to say," she replied.

They discussed the trivia of Roman society for a few minutes, until an older man with a stern expression stepped up.

"Claudius! You would rather chatter with a young woman than speak to me?"

"He saved my life, Governor!" Vipsania interrupted before Gaius could reply. "I felt I had to thank him, and. ."

"I was dazzled by her beauty," Gaius interrupted, "then further dazzled by her wit and intelligence, but. ."

"That's all right, young Claudius," the Governor laughed, and the stern expression melted away. "Of course you prefer to be with a young woman. Just make sure you behave!" and he gave a wink to Vipsania. The he turned back to Gaius and said, "I understand you have an expedition in mind across the river?"

"Yes sir."

"Tell me what you're thinking?"

So Gaius explained where his planning had reached so far.

"You think an expedition at this time of the year's wise?"

"I think it would send the wrong message if I don't."

"It would also send the wrong message if you fail!" Plautius warned. "I don't want to hear of a disaster."

"I can't guarantee to succeed," Gaius said simply, "but unless that raid is punished, there'll be many more. Also, the senate has a standing order. ."

"I know the standing orders," Plautius frowned. "You wish to go yourself rather than send a Tribune?"

"It's my idea, so it's my responsibility."

"I see." Plautius was clearly surprised. "Then take the first and third cohorts, and bring them back!"

"Thank you, Governor."

"It's you I've got to thank," Plautius shrugged. "Saving the life of young Vipsania saved me a hell of a lot of explaining to the Princeps. I doubt you have any idea of the paper work that would be involved." He paused, and added, "I'll let Caesar know that you've saved the life of a Roman citizen of senatorial class and a personal acquaintance of his," Plautius laughed. Then he became more serious, and added, "Don't knock it! You'll earn another decoration, and these days, the more decorations, the safer you are. Caesar genuinely respects military heroes."

Or fears them, Gaius thought to himself, and then dismissed the thought. That was treasonable. If Rome had a bad leader, Romans had to live with that. The alternative, the military taking action to select the ruler, would lead to chaos and the fall of Rome.

"Now, young Claudius, some further instructions. What do you know of the political scene east of the Danube?"

"Not much," Gaius had to admit.

"To the north of Pannonia there's a tribe called the Quadi, under a king called Vannius. Now, by and large Vannius is on reasonably friendly terms with Rome, but much of his cavalry comes from the Iazyges. Now, word of what you do will get up there, and if you make a right proper mess of things, the northern border could also erupt."

"I'll try not to make a mess, Governor."

"There are various messes. Fail to impose any authority and you encourage further raids. On the other hand, if you engage in massive unnecessary pillage or killing, you generate anger, and a desire for revenge. Yes, a punitive mission is required, but make sure it is appropriate."

"Of course, Governor."

"Oh, and one more thing, young Claudius. You realize winter's coming?"

"That's why I want to get started," Gaius replied. "If I don't do it soon, it'll be very difficult to do it at all."

"That's true," Plautius said, "but that's not what I meant. The standing orders are that the Legion winters at its base at Burnum. This place here is just a camp, and. ."

"The men deserve better than to be out here for no better reason than the Legatus forgot there's somewhere better. I'll arrange for the Tribunes who aren't involved in the raid to get it organized."

* * *

Two days later two centuries sequentially made an early forced march to the bridge. As Gaius remarked to Vipsania, soldiers required exercise, and exercises might as well be carried out in such a way as to provide a young lady with protection. While there, he arranged the weights on a flat board and offered Vipsania the chance to drop them by tipping the board.

"That's remarkable," Vipsania said, finally.

"And you thought the answer was obvious," Gaius chided.

"It's not very important, though," she shrugged. "Not knowing that's made no difference to my life so far."

"It's got you back out on this bridge," Gaius pointed out. "I would have hoped that otherwise you would have stayed safely back in Lussonium."

"I know. You think I was silly going out here. ."

"In fact I can think of something even more important," Gaius interrupted. "If those weights hadn't fallen equally, nothing remarkable would have happened on the bridge, and instead of you chiding me for ignoring you, you might well have ignored me, in which case you'd be heading back to Rome."

Vipsania shuddered a little, and added, "To Little Boots."

"It wouldn't be that bad," Gaius shrugged. "You're from a very well-connected family."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"I assume from the Valerius Messala that you might be related to the Valerius Barbatus Messalinus?"

"A distant relation. Everyone's forgotten that now."

"Well, his daughter's married to Claudius. That must mean something."

"I don't know anything about Valeria Messalina, and forgive me for saying this but I don't think her being married to Claudius will do me any good. Nobody takes any notice of Claudius."

"He was a Consul," Gaius pointed out.

"Maybe, but I don't think Little Boots takes any notice of him at all."

"I think he takes quite a bit of notice, actually," Gaius said. "Little Boots seems to be perpetually afraid of Senators plotting to kill him. I'm fairly confident he doesn't fear Claudius, so he will listen to him."

"Perhaps, but that wouldn't save me."

"You think he fears your father's plotting?"

"Little Boots is lashing out unpredictably at anyone of Senatorial class."

"I doubt it, but if you're worried, stay here!" Gaius said. "I promise you'll be safe."

"I'd like to," she said, "but my father has to agree."

"I think he'll agree," Gaius offered, "otherwise you could make his life hell!"

* * *

Her father approved of her staying behind under Gaius' protection. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to thrust Vipsania onto Gaius. A few days later, Vipsania found a way to see the ceremony of the formal transfer of authority for the Legion, and some days later she presented Gaius with a drawing of him in full uniform.

"That's remarkable!" he said. "Thank you so very much!" Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed her. He then pulled back, his face slightly red, as he said, "I'm sorry! I promised your father. ."

"Forget that!" she said, and leaned wrapped her arms around him.

Chapter 6

Four days later, Gaius led the first cohort from the legionary headquarters towards a collection of rafts and what seemed from a distance to be rather small boats. Close up, they seemed to be very small boats. They were, however, all that were available right now, although a safer boat could be provided for the Legatus. . Gaius quickly shook his head. He had been assured by the river people that these were quite sound, and there would be no problem in crossing the river. Gaius could see that the soldiers were extremely suspicious and he could not blame them; he was not exactly comfortable either, but there was one thing he knew above all else: having brought the troops this far, they had to cross the river, find the enemy and win. It would be a very poor start to order his men into one sort of boat, then take himself on a safer one.

He handed his horse to one of the river men. The horses were to be transferred by the larger rafts, under the care of these river men whose life involved moving animals up and down the river. He then ordered a number of men into the smallest boat, he joined them, and immediately pushed off. The two Tribunes were to ensure that the remaining men crossed.

It was when they reached the broader current that he realized how strong the current was. However, the soldiers were experienced rowers, and irrespective of their feelings, when given a job to do, the Roman soldier did it. They stared at the water, which seemed to them uncomfortably close to the point of swamping, but Gaius merely grinned at them and pointed out that the fact the boat was a little overloaded was a good reason not to rock it. Eventually, to everyone's relief, they reached the clearing on the far side. A detachment of exploratores and the third cohort of heavy infantry had crossed the previous day and had secured a perimeter. Some men began rowing back, to collect more men, while the remaining men quickly began to fan out, to ensure there were no enemies. Back out on the river were a number of similar boats. Virtually all the troops would cross before any attempt was made to bring the horses or the heavier equipment across.

The crossing took most of the day, and the evening fortifications were constructed only a few hundred meters from the riverbank. Small groups of exploratores were sent out next morning to determine whether there was any opposition. A small squad was also ordered to take possession of a rather large hill that offered a good view over the countryside, and which could also be used to relay messages through mirrors or smoke.

The main body then set out, following a reasonably well-made track through a thick forest. The weather was cool, now, and most of the leaves were gone, so apart from the undergrowth, the view was reasonably open. The troops marched at a good speed, as much to keep warm as through extreme urgency. That evening large fires were lit to keep warm. There was a similar large fire on the hilltop, and according to agreed procedure, signals could be exchanged by shading the fire.

The question was asked, and the answer received: those on the hill could see no other fires.

The next day was colder. The wind was now from the north, the sky leaden grey, and a light sleet was falling. The men marched on, a grim determination now pervading the party. It was cold, unpleasant, but it had to be endured.

Late that afternoon they struck the first village. This had been abandoned recently, and the soldiers were only too pleased to have proper shelter from the now bitterly cold rain. Fortifications were constructed, and the watch set. A few comments were made about those freezing on the hilltop. Gaius had no sympathy for them. If by now they had not constructed both fortifications and a shelter, then they were lazy and deserved what they got.

Next day, the first of the winter snow began to fall. Gaius thought about this and decided to stay put. If he were being watched, let the watchers freeze. When the storm was finally over Gaius waited a day, then the two cohorts marched again. The ground was now slush, and again the men had to endure. However, the track was wide enough for the men to march four abreast, which was comforting, and the fur wrappings around the feet, but inside the boots, at least kept the feet dry.

It was about half way to the next village when one of the scouts reported men ahead. The scout assured Gaius that he had almost certainly not been seen, and the men were somewhat noisily setting up an ambush. Gaius waited for other scouts and established that the ambush was set only on one side of the track, and it comprised about a hundred men. This was more likely to be a "hit and run" raid than an outright ambush.

Gaius ordered a small detachment of men into the forest, to circle behind the ambush. Then, after the appropriate time, the men marched on. The ambush, when it came was not effective. An opponent stood up to signal the attack, but immediately a Roman horn blew. Immediately shields were locked, and the volley of arrows fell harmlessly. Then the wall of shields began to advance.

Once into the forest, the shield wall had to break, but at that very instant when the first tree had to be passed, a second horn blew, there was a considerable noise from deeper in the forest, and for the first time the ambushers realized there were men behind them. Uncertain as to which way to go and half-frozen through their wait, the attack collapsed. Fifteen Iazyges were dead, and about eighty dispirited others had formed a rather sad looking huddle, while some of the wounded were left lying in the snow. Three Romans were slightly wounded.

They marched into the major village, this time occupied by women and children who were promptly escorted to the village hall. The Iazygian men were given tent materials and were corralled outside in the freezing cold to build their tent between two huts, which they could also use, while the soldiers occupied the other dwellings when not on watch. For three days nothing happened, except more snow fell.

The fourth day was clear and crisp, and a pleasant covering of snow lay everywhere. Gaius sent out bands of exploratores with instructions to find tracks, and if they found them, to locate the camps and burn supplies. However, nothing was seen. It appeared as if the men of this village had fled, possibly to get help.

On the eighth day word came that that interpretation was almost certainly correct, and help was coming in the form of a large band of Iazyges advancing towards the village down a small valley. They would arrive approximately at noon. Gaius consulted the map he had had drawn through the efforts of the exploratores, then gave a satisfied nod. Signals from the hilltop confirmed that his rear was safe, and there was nothing between the village and the river. This approaching force was large, and since there were no significant villages in three directions, this should be the only attacking force.

Fortifications had already been constructed around the captured village, and a skeleton detachment was to be left behind to maintain control while the rest marched out. The third cohort was ordered to march forward to meet the enemy at a position where a small bluff forced the track to narrow and make a right-angled turn, then broaden out again. The first cohort was to advance by broad flanking movement to the top of this bluff, on the right of the advancing Iazyges. The auxiliaries would take a position to their left, out of sight, also following a very broad flanking movement.

The enemy sent out scouts, but only to scout the area immediately before them, and accordingly all they saw was pristine snow. Gaius smiled to himself at the surprise awaiting them when they passed the bluff, and ran into the third cohort.

Nothing happened for some time, which meant that the Iazygian scouts must have been all captured, then eventually the sound of the enemy approaching could be heard. About twenty minutes later the first of them came into view. They were marching forward following the tracks of their scouts, and these tracks only led forward. Presumably the scouts would report only close to the village.

The Iazyges had no formal structure to their march; they jostled along full of the swagger men have when the fight is still well in the future. They knew how many Romans there were, they knew they outnumbered the Romans about three to one, and while the Romans would be behind their fortifications, these would be of wood and could easily be burned. Roasted Roman seemed just about right.

Accordingly they were a little surprised when they saw the third cohort march into view from behind a bluff. What the Iazyges saw was a column of men marching, then stopping, to hurriedly form a battle line. What they did not know was that this marching had been precisely timed through scouts in the trees on the top of the ridge.

Not that they cared. They had somehow caught some of these Romans outside the fortifications, and this would be a good time to despatch them. There were yells, and a ragged charge began. The charging men ploughed through the snow, thus, as Gaius noted later, ensured they were half exhausted even before the fighting was to begin. The Roman wall stood fast until the Iazyges were rather close, then a wall of pilii flew through the air, quickly followed by another. Dozens of Iazyges fell to the ground and the charge faltered. Then the Roman shield wall advanced.

For a moment the Iazyges doubted, and in that moment the shield wall pushed them back and the stabbing gladii dispatched many of those doubters. That triumph was temporary. A loud roar went up as the main band of Iazyges charged forward, swinging axes, broad swords, thrusting spears. The hill to one side, and the drop into a small gully on the other, however, negated much of the advantage of these numbers. The Roman line was no more than twenty-five men wide, and it was not possible to flank it on flat ground. Accordingly, the Iazyges with their vastly superior numbers were forced into a long column.

Following the plan, the Roman advance halted, then, on the sound of a horn, every second man on the front line fell back behind the man to his left, while fresh soldiers advanced into the gap. The new front line immediately closed shields and began thrusting, stabbing, and at the first opportunity, the second of the fresh men relieved the remaining original men in the front line. This terrain had been carefully selected, and it was precisely correct for these line changes for the third cohort, as the terrain widened slightly as they fell back, making a little room for the interchange. The Romans could easily fill the widened line, but the choke point behind the Iazyges made it more difficult for them. Accordingly the Roman line could fall back quickly at a time judged by the Centurion in order to present a larger fresher full line to greet the advancing Iazyges who were forced to spread out, or be attacked from the flank on the edge. Because of the choke point, this gave the Romans a temporary minor advantage that was a considerable irritant to the Iazyges, who did not have the disciplined training to get the correct numbers where required in an orderly fashion.

The retreat was not without cost, however. When the Iazyges worked out when the Roman line would move backwards, instead of following they made better use of the space and their heavy axes and spears often struck home. It was also difficult for the Romans to rescue a wounded soldier, particularly if the wound was in the leg and the soldier could not fluently make the interchange with a soldier behind him.

Most of the Iazyges did not know what was happening at the front and they pressed forward. Occasionally the horn would blow and a more significant fall-back would be carried out, more Iazyges would surge forwards, again make a minor gain, then find themselves at some disadvantage. While the third cohort quietly carried out its orderly retreat, the Iazyges continued to shout encouragement while they pressed forward, at the same time pushing the front line into close contact with the Romans, which was exactly what the Romans wanted. What the Iazyges did not realize was that this enthusiasm from those not actually fighting was taking away what advantage there was for those that were.

The third cohort worked its way around the bluff, gradually expanding the breadth of its lines as a higher fraction of the troops were brought into the action. The retreat was now proceeding faster, and the Iazyges were pressing forward more furiously, totally confident of victory, but their column was also becoming more extended, and more importantly, the front had turned around the bluff and was out of sight of those at the rear.

Gaius now gave the signal. The first had divided into two, and two wedges now marched down the slope, but on different angles such that the bluff prevented most of the Iazyges from realizing there were two attacks. With no choice, the Iazyges turned to face the Romans descending on them. Their open file to this flank meant that most of the two flights of pilii struck victims, and before the Iazyges could regroup, the two wedges embedded themselves into the column.

The horn blew again, then those at the front noticed, for the first time, that the retreat in front of them was not through fear but was part of a plan. Now the wall of locked shields began its advance, closing the gap so that the shields were thrust into the bodies of the Iazyges and the remorseless thrusting recommenced. Those Iazyges at the front had no alternative but to fight for their lives, but those behind them had time to look around. Retreat was difficult now that some other attack was proceeding behind them. Some began to panic, and ran in the only available direction other than their own reserves. These found the Roman cavalry.

Then Gaius, from his position on the hill, noted the party at the rear with the enemy chief. He signalled for two cavalry detachments, and rode forward along the ridge, then led the charge downhill.

The Iazyges in total outnumbered the Romans three to one, but in this tiny sub-battle, the odds were reversed, and in the initial charge, most of the Iazygian horsemen saw this and simply turned and fled. The leader tried to stand his ground, but was soon surrounded, his remaining soldiers dispatched.

"Surrender now!" Gaius ordered, "and stop the slaughter."

"You'll kill us anyway," the chief offered, and added, without much conviction for the prospect, "It is better to die in battle."

"It is better to live with your family!" Gaius countered. "Surrender!"

"And if I do?"

"If you wish to continue fighting," Gaius announced, "we raze your villages to the ground, and take your food, women and children back as tribute or as slaves. If you offer to live in peace and pay tribute then we can forget what has happened, and you can act for Rome, as a buffer. You may cross the Danube at designated points and trade at our markets. Choose."

"Pay you tribute?" the chief growled.

"I already have more than enough," Gaius pointed out. "What I am offering is to give you your village back, with some but not all of your possessions. I shall also take the families of your leaders. They will be treated well, and live as they please, and be educated in Roman ways, if you wish."

The chief thought for a moment, then nodded agreement. He knew his eldest sons would be hostages for his good behaviour. The procedure was not unexpected, and the fact that Gaius already had possession of all that he was proposing to take meant that the tribute was less important.

Gaius immediately ordered the horn signal for the troops to accept surrender. Immediately the Roman shield walls fell back, the thrusting stopping except in defence. The chief rode towards his men, and yelled out his instructions. His men began to lay down their arms and, seeing the Romans had ceased fighting, were able to tend to their wounded. The battle was over.

* * *

The Iazygian weapons were gathered and placed on carts, which Gaius ordered to be sent immediately to the village, together with the Iazygian supplies, the chief and some of the men. Gaius suggested that these men, together with those captured, construct further huts and gather firewood. They would be given axes, and the harder they worked, the better would be the huts in which they would have to live for as long as it took the Romans to safely depart, and the warmer would be their night. Any treachery, and the entire village would be crucified.

The chief nodded, and promised no treachery. He knew he had been beaten, but he also knew that this outcome was much better than any he could have hoped for, given that he had lost. Meanwhile, the Roman medical men began helping those wounded Iazyges who had more chance of living.

About two hours later, many carts started to arrive to take the wounded from both sides back to the village, while the remainder began marching back

That evening, Gaius invited the chief, his family, and some additional Iazyges to dine with him. Patiently, he outlined what he wanted from them in the future. There would be a standard tribute in gold or coin, but this could be earned if the Iazyges cared to sell food to the legion, or for that matter any other goods to anybody within the Roman domain. They would have freedom to cross the river at any time, provided tribute was up to date, and they were also expected to offer free passage to anybody from the Roman domains.

What Rome required was order. If the Iazyges themselves were attacked or raided by those from outside Rome's control, they were free to defend themselves, and provided they were not the cause of the problem, Rome may well help them. If they behaved like allies, they would be treated as allies.

The chief accepted this, and swore there would be no further hostilities.

* * *

The following day, Gaius sent the tribute and the wounded back to the river, and two days later a scout returned and informed him that both had reached and crossed the river without incident. Accordingly, the next morning the Romans marched out, together with three young Iazyges as hostage, and the Iazygian weaponry. They stopped overnight at the first village, then the following morning they marched to the river, leaving much of the Iazygian weaponry behind. As Gaius had told the chief, the taking of the weapons was simply a precaution, but he had no intention of leaving the tribe defenceless through the winter. The chief seemed genuinely grateful for this.

Four days later the two cohorts recrossed the Danube. Again, the crossing took most of the day, the mechanics of which Gaius felt he could safely leave in the hands of the Centurions and Tribunes. He returned to his formal headquarters, announced that he had returned, then on learning that there was nothing especially pressing, he left.

Chapter 7

As he explained, not entirely telling the full truth, he had visited to ensure that she was being well looked after, that she was safe, and. .

"The legion, or the river, kept the barbarians at bay," she smiled, then she shuddered, and added, "and Little Boots is far away."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating the problem," Gaius tried to comfort her.

"He's quite a vile beast," she shuddered. "You don't know. You're not a woman, and you're not in Rome."

"And neither are you," Gaius said, then hastily added, "in Rome, I mean."

"You noticed the other?" she said, then suddenly she became more serious as she realized that he had gone out on a limb for her, and she added, "I'm sorry! I should thank you for your kindness, and not. ."

"I can ignore a pretty lady once," Gaius interrupted, "and that's careless, but to ignore her twice, to discard her to the vilest of the little or big boots, that is, well. ."

"In Rome, it's what's called 'playing it safe'," she reflected sadly. Then she decided to change the subject. "How did your expedition go? How many barbarians did you kill, how many villages did you burn, how many. .?"

"We killed those we had to," Gaius replied simply, "and we brought back the minimum required tribute. Rather than pillage, I tried to make the local villages semi-allies. I see no reason to kill or destroy for no reason."

"I'm sorry," she frowned. "Neither do I, but that view is not commonly held. Tell me, what are they like, these barbarians."

"They're not barbarians," Gaius corrected her. "They're civilized, in their own ways. They dress differently, they don't inflict shaving on themselves, they don't wash as much as we do, they pray to different Gods, but they make quite intricate metal ornaments." He paused, then added, "I've brought members of the family of the chief back. They speak Latin. Why don't you ask them what you want?"

"Prisoners won't. ."

"They're not prisoners, and they're not slaves," Gaius interrupted. "They will be treated as chief's sons and daughters, and eventually they will return to their tribes, to lead them. They are to return with the feeling that Rome is good."

"Even if in some ways, it isn't," she muttered.

"Look, I'm sorry for your problem, but I promise you, you're safe here."

"Even you can't refuse Little Boots," she warned. "If he orders me back to Rome. ."

"I'll say you're unavailable."

"He's hardly likely to believe that," she snorted. "He'll come here for me personally, probably kill you, and. ."

"If you're polite and look after our guests from across the river," Gaius shrugged, "you could always escape across there. I can't see Little Boots going after you himself."

"Living amongst the barbarians could be nearly as bad," she said. "There'd be nobody to protect me, and. ."

"On the contrary," Gaius interposed, "if the chief gave his word, you'd be quite safe. But it mightn't come to that. Let's try to enjoy the present and let the future take care of itself. Will you join me for dinner?"

"I'd like that," she smiled.

The dinner was small, informal, but Gaius had ensured that the cook understood that he wished to impress his guest. Vipsania was impressed; even Gaius was impressed. Since he was aware that Vipsania's father was interested in wine, he had found some older Pannonian wine that had been stored in a small cask for some time.

"This's marvellous," Vipsania said, after tasting it for the first time.

"Those in the know only buy old casks," Gaius said. "Most people drink fresh wine."

"I thought old wine turned to vinegar," Vipsania frowned.

"That's the downside of buying old casks," Gaius agreed. "If the air gets in, it's awful."

They ate, they drank, and when Vipsania asked him about dropping rocks into rivers, he took her hand and invited her outside. It was cold, and he wrapped a cloak around her and drew her close to him. She put her arm around his waste, and almost snuggled against him.

"Look up there?" Gaius said.

"Stars?" Vipsania asked. "I know some of the constellations."

"Do you know what the stars are?"

"Just stars? What do you mean?"

"Aristarchus thought. ."

"Who's Aristarchus?"

"A Greek philosopher," Gaius explained, in what he was to reflect later was an overly serious tone. "He said that the Earth is a planet like Mars, and goes around the sun. Other Greeks thought the stars are other suns, in which case there could be other planets going around them."

"And you believe that?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know," Gaius said. "What I do know is that because heavy objects fall at the same rate as light ones, it's at least possible, which is why I got so carried away when I saw a sword, a shield and a body hit the water at the same time. As you said, I was so excited, I ignored you."

"I suppose that was important," she said doubtfully.

"So I'm not forgiven?"

She looked into his eyes and said, "I've always wanted to meet a philosopher, so yes, you're forgiven. But don't do it again!" she added with a smirk.

"I don't think that's likely," he said, and drew her more tightly to him. Her arm also drew him more tightly towards her.

Chapter 8

A week later, under leaden skies, the Legion, apart from the fifth cohort, whose turn it was to be left behind to maintain a frontier presence, marched towards the coast and their winter quarters. The march was uneventful, but Gaius noted that Vipsania was becoming more apprehensive as the time approached. Burnum was near the coast, and that meant that a boat could take her back to Rome.

Gaius had already sent Timothy ahead to secure a villa for Vipsania and her family. When they arrived, he found that Timothy had done well and had secured a small villa about two miles from the town itself, but not that far from the formal residence of the Legatus. He had told nobody what it was for, or who would be in it, and officially the villa was in Gaius' name. As Gaius assured Vipsania, anybody who wanted to find her would have to do it through him.

For the next five weeks, it was unlikely that Gaius had any deep philosophical thoughts. Since the administration of a legion was essentially carried out by the Tribunes, and in this case only they knew enough about Burnum to make sensible purchases, and since there were no uprisings, barbarian attacks, or any other discernible problems, Gaius had little to do other than to be with Vipsania. Winter storms were howling, and it was very pleasant to sit together beside log fires, tending to crackling roasts and drinking more fine Pannonian wine.

The Iazygian families had settled with reasonable grace and were in frequent contact with their families. Vipsania was fascinated by Iazygian jewellery, so Gaius purchased several items for her, and as a consequence of her wearing them, the "hostages" became friendlier towards her. She ordered a number of scrolls from Rome, and began to teach them to read. Timothy noticed this, and he acquired copies of some of the Greek plays. Then, when the weather broke, Gaius would take Vipsania on horseback rides. Because of his rank, a small detachment of cavalry would follow them, at a very discreet distance. And so, despite the cold and the bitterness of the weather, Gaius felt as happy as he had ever felt.

It did not last. On one morning when the weather was particularly mild, Gaius called to see Vipsania. This would be a particularly good day to go riding, and he had brought the usual two horses. However, when he reached the door, to his complete surprise the slave refused him admission.

"The master has gone to the marketplace, and he has ordered me to refuse entry to everybody until he returns," the slave said.

At first Gaius was completely stunned. It had been a long time since anyone had said no to him, and this no was so emphatic. As he stared at the slave, the door began to be closed. On reflex, Gaius slammed his foot into the space, and quickly followed this with his shoulder.

"You will tell your mistress that I am here," Gaius said.The slave stared fearfully at him.

"I understand your problem," Gaius nodded towards the slave. "Do as I say, and I promise you nothing bad will happen to you."

The slave continued to look as if the ground was about to swallow him, but eventually he turned and shuffled off. Gaius entered, and waited. Eventually an ashen-faced Vipsania entered, and informed him that her father had returned from Rome, with orders from Little Boots that she present herself before a God.

"I'm not going," she said simply. "I'll kill myself first."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Gaius grasped her by the arm. After a moment during which she stared blankly at him, he added, "Neither of those things."

"That's easy for you to say," she said, then as if a dam had burst, the outflow began. "I can't! If I don't go, Little Boot's will send the Praetorian Guard to get me, and then he'll add torture to the list of what he's going to do. If I tell Little Boots I'm not going, he's as likely as not to have my father killed, and. ."

"Calm down," Gaius interrupted. "You can't travel now anyway. It's the storm season, and nobody travels in snowstorms, let alone women."

"And what good's that going to do?" she wailed. "Just waiting around. ."

"It gives us time to think of something. ." His sentence stopped. The problem was, whatever he did, that would be treason. The law said this woman had to go and suffer whatever Caesar had in mind. What sort of a law was that? One man seemed to have taken upon himself the right to make any law he wished. The ideals of the Republic were gone.

"Please, Gaius, there's absolutely nothing you can do. Please, leave me, now!" With that, she turned and fled upstairs. Three slaves looked on fearfully. At moments like this, anything could happen.

Gaius stared emptily around the room, then turned and walked away. He strode down the path, booting snowdrifts, oblivious to the cold. This was wrong! What was he going to do about it?

Half of him called the other half a coward: there was a clear wrong, and if he had more spine he would do something. The other half pointed out that a one-man revolt against Rome would lead to his execution, and probably Vipsania's, after she had been raped. There was nowhere to go. There had been organized, if somewhat inept, plotting against Gaius Caesar from the Rhine legions and that had got nowhere.

Which was exactly where he was going, he realized gloomily, as he vigorously booted another snowdrift. There had to be somewhere. Yes, the marketplace. He would find out what truly happened.

It took a little time to find Valerius Messala, and a little more to explain what had happened. "Under no circumstances must you blame the slave," Gaius said. "He really had no choice."

"I was more concerned about somebody following from Rome," came the worried reply.

"Let's go and have some wine, and you can tell me what's gone wrong. Maybe I can help."

"I doubt you can." The voice was that of a broken man. "Young Claudius, you may be better off going away and forgetting us. We are in deep trouble."

"All the more reason for you to tell me about it," Gaius said.

Chapter 9

The problem arose because Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus appeared to be quite fearful of plots against him, and these fears seemed to materialize into something greater on his return to Rome. The two German Legates had been purged, and other Governors had been in trouble, but that was nothing compared to the atmosphere in Rome, because that was where the Senate was.

Perhaps, Gaius thought to himself, but since the time of Tiberius, the Senate had become increasingly irrelevant.

"I don't think anyone knows exactly how this last round of troubles all started," Messala began, as he sipped his wine. "My best guess is this. For some reason, Little Boots got into some argument with a Stoic philosopher, Julius Canus. I've no idea what the argument was about, but it seems Canus got the better of it, and Little Boots was somewhat displeased."

"Surely Caesar could take losing a philosophical argument?" Gaius asked.

"He may well have been able to. It's what happened next, and after that, and after that. ."

"Go on!"

"What happened next is that Caesar went to the Senate. Not only that, he took armed guards, which is quite against the rules. It implied that the Senators might attack him, and. ."

"There's precedent," Gaius pointed out. "First of all, the other Gaius Julius Caesar was murdered in the Senate. There may have been rules against Senators taking in weapons, but that didn't stop the plotters."

"I know. For that matter, even Augustus used to wear armour under his toga, but Tiberius refused armed escorts, even though he was granted them."

"True, but I rather suspect in Tiberius' case it was more a case of not giving weapons to people whose loyalty was questionable, and once he went to Capri, the permission for him to have an escort hardly mattered."

"That's true," Messala nodded.

"So Caesar went to the Senate with armed guards. What's the problem?"

"Oh yes, he gave a speech as only Little Boots could give one. You may have heard that once before he verbally lashed the senate for their handling of Macro? Well, this time he was most conciliatory. Basically, he said that while he knew there were conspiracies against him, there were very few Senators against whom he felt anger, and he was granting a general amnesty for events up to this point," Messala said, then paused to see Gaius' reaction.

"That doesn't seem to be a problem," Gaius frowned.

"It was a disaster," Messala scowled. "Can't you see what happened next?"

"Sorry, but no," Gaius replied.

"What do you think the Senators should have done next?"

"From what I gather," Gaius replied in a puzzled tone, "declare their loyalty to Caesar."

Messala shook his head as if in sorrow at Gaius having missed the point and said, "Yes, well they decided to demonstrate it. You see, young Gaius, Caesar had implied there were some Senators that were plotting, so each went to great lengths to show their loyalty. Firstly, they heard about Julius Canus, so they tried him for disloyalty and had him executed."

"Disloyalty?"

"Something like that. They may have dressed it up in various ways. Being of Senatorial class is now the way to get on the wrong side of Little Boots. The next one to go was Julius Graecinus, who was also of a Stoic bent, and Little Boots may well have been fearing a Stoic conspiracy."

"Was there a Stoic conspiracy?" Gaius asked, and while he sipped his wine and looked as if this was a question asked simply out of curiosity, he carefully watched for a reaction out of the side of his eye.

"Who knows," Messala shrugged.

There had been a momentary hesitation. The odds were strongly in favour of Messala being linked with a conspiracy, Gaius realized. He had to be very careful.

"Anyway," Messala continued, "the Senators became even more fearful, because Graecinus was of Senatorial class, so they decided that the best way to demonstrate their loyalty was to get rid of a traitor. They selected Scribonius Proculus, and about fifty of them hacked him to death in the Senate."

"Which just about justifies Caesar's desire to have protection," Gaius pointed out. "If fifty of them were taking knives into the Senate, the so-called rule that there are no weapons in the Senate is clearly being broken frequently."

"I suppose so," Messala admitted.

"So, what happened next?" Gaius asked. He was still quite puzzled how all this related to Vipsania, unless the father was being accused of being a conspirator.

"Well, somehow Caesar was told that Betilienus Bassus was a conspirator. ."

"Was he?" Gaius asked casually.

"Yes," Messala said, without thinking.

Interesting, Gaius thought to himself. Only a conspirator would know. He nodded and said, "Go on."

"Bassus, of course, was sentenced to death, and his father, Betilienus Capito was ordered to watch. Capito was horrified, and begged Caesar to let him close his eyes, so Caesar, in disgust, said that they would be closed forever, and ordered the two to be executed together."

"Was Capito a conspirator?" Gaius asked.

"There was no evidence against him," Messala shrugged evasively, "but he certainly went about arguing his innocence in a strange way. He then said he would name conspirators, and out gushed a number of names."

"Were they conspirators?"

"Not all of them," Messala laughed hollowly. "He spoiled it all at the end by naming Caesonia."

"Caesar's wife?" Gaius asked in disbelief. He also noted the 'not all of them', which implied that he knew who were and who were not. And if he, Gaius, could work that out in such a short conversation, the chances were that Caesar could too.

"The same. If he had any chance before, that was it."

"But that's not all, is it?" Gaius asked.

"Help no! Senators fell over themselves to betray conspirators. One of the worst was that despicable Anicius Cerialis. He even betrayed his own son, as well as a Sextus Papinius, and he happily watched their executions. I tell you, Caesar is out of control."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Gaius replied.

"You don't believe this?"

"Maybe I don't believe they're all so innocent," Gaius replied. "I've heard a little from Rome too."

"And what've you heard?"

"One ex-Consul, Pompeius Pennias, was arrested for treason, probably because of one of these wretched Senators making up conspiracies to cover their own miserable arses. Anyway, Caesar personally decided to get to the bottom of this, and one of Pennias' freed-women, by the name of Quintilia, was also arrested. Quintilia was tortured, but she refused to bear false witness against her old master."

"So?"

"Caesar was taking a personal interest in this, and he soon realized that Pompeius was in fact innocent. He immediately freed him and congratulated Quintilia for her devotion to the truth. As a reward he gave her 800,000 sesterces, a sum that ensured she could live in luxury for the rest of her life. Anyone who does that must have a sense of justice."

Messala seemed unsure what to say, so Gaius continued, "Caesar then said that he rather suspected that there would be a number of leeches, thieves, and others who might try to take this money from her. Even Senators, he said, who should know better. Caesar then promised that anyone who deprived Quintillia of her money would end up begging for a simple crucifixion. I gather everybody believed Caesar on this matter."

"They'd believe him on that," Messala said. He paused, then added in a tight voice, "Why are you interested? Where's this going?"

Gaius could not help noticing the tension. Yes, this man was either a conspirator, or was associated with conspirators, or he feared that he was going to be so associated. Whatever, here was one frightened man. "I wish to help Vipsania," Gaius said simply, "but so far, I have no idea why she is in such fear."

"One of the men Capito accused was Valerius Asiaticus," Messala explained.

"Yes, but I gather from what you've told me, Capito also accused Caesonia, so this can't be the worst type of accusation."

"Yes, but mud sticks."

"Was Asiaticus a conspirator?" Gaius asked.

"How would I know?" came the delayed and not particularly convincing response.

"So, the gens has been named, but I still don't see. ."

"As you know, I was in Rome," Messala explained, "and I was invited to dine with Caesar, alongside many others, including Asiaticus. When Caesar was about to retire for the night, he got up, thanked us for being there, then said something about there being conspiracies everywhere."

"A pledge of loyalty wouldn't go astray here," Gaius muttered.

"That's just what Asiaticus did. He got up and praised Caesar, and said all the accusations against him were nonsense."

"He would have been better off to leave that last bit out," Gaius said. "The pledge of loyalty would have been fine."

"You're certainly right there," Messala sighed. "That really got Caesar going. He turned to Asiaticus and said for all to hear that he understood that Asiaticus was having a difficult time, after all, he, Caesar, had been bedding his wife, and by the Gods she was useless in bed. Nothing more than a lump! Poor Asiaticus! Everybody was laughing at him. It was disgraceful!"

"And then?"

"As he was leaving the room, he turned and said something to the effect that a true member of the Valerian gens wouldn't be so useless. Then he pointed to me and said that the honour of the Valerian gens was at stake. I had a daughter. Send her to Rome to restore the honour of the Valeria."

"That sounds like one of Caesar's jokes," Gaius offered.

"You weren't there!"

"No, I wasn't, but look at it this way. There are no shortage of closer Valerias, in fact Caesar probably sees Valeria Messalina every day, and I have it on good authority," Gaius bluffed, "that they all enjoy exactly the same privileges and freedoms as all other Roman women, and because of their gens, more than most."

"Yes, but being here you wouldn't know, would you?"

"As it happens, I have very good contacts in Rome," Gaius said, and watched a momentary look of fear cross Messala's face. "Anyway, back to Caesar. When he asked for Vipsania to be sent to Rome, what did you say?"

"Nothing!" Messala shrugged. "What could I say. Vipsania must go to Rome, or Caesar will. ." He stopped, in mid-sentence.

"And I presume Caesar left the room right then?" Gaius said.

"Yes, so you see," Messala said, "there's nothing you or anybody else can do."

"That remains to be seen," Gaius said, and took his leave.

* * *

Gaius returned to his villa to think. He recalled the prophecy: when in difficulty, he must use logic. That would be what Timothy would advise also. So where did that take him?

With regard to Vipsania, the choices were simple. He could walk away from her, he could look after her after she went to Rome, or he could defend her. The second one was not an option, because Vipsania had said she would kill herself first, and he believed her. So, either he would defend her or he would not.

The next question was, why was she being sent? Either Little Boots had, for no good reason, demanded that she go, or her father had offered her. The first option was what her father claimed was the case, but was that the truth? Was it, as he suspected, one of Little Boots' jokes? He had received numerous accounts of Little Boots having made quite remarkable threats for no apparent good reason other than to terrify the subject of them, but as far as he was aware, and from what Claudius had told him, if it were a joke, the matter was never raised again. Little Boots clearly had a malicious streak in him, but he also seemed to have a sense of justice.

The second option would apply only if her father was trying to get himself off a hook. Why would that be? Because he was either part of a plot, or sufficiently close to one that he knew he could be identified.

So, on balance, Vipsania was safe, as long as she was out of her father's care. The problem there was, in Roman law, right now her father owned her. Nevertheless, that problem could be dealt with. The difficult problem was, what would happen if Caesar really was evil, and had really demanded Vipsania, for whatever reason?

To defend her, either he had to persuade Caesar to forget about her, or he had to remove Caesar, which effectively meant, leading a revolt. What did organizing a revolt mean? In the first place, it meant turning his back on the prophecy, for he was supposed to be loyal, and not return to Rome until it was in ruins. That last bit was ridiculous, so the prophecy was ridiculous. This was getting him nowhere. Suppose there were a revolt?

The mathematics were reasonably simple. For a revolt to be successful, at least eight legions had to be behind it, and at least half of the rest sympathetic. The sympathetic criterion might be met, for the legions in the East knew him, but the fact of the matter was, in a matter such as this he might not even command is own legion. Caesar's plan of moving commanders around had a lot of sense. Stories of Gaius Caesar's cruelty and arrogance were rife, while the stories of random arrests and executions had many senior commanders worried, but on the other hand, as far as he could tell, many of these stories were just that: stories. The little he had heard from ordinary citizens in Rome was that Gaius Caesar was extremely popular, and when you looked closely at the number of executions, and took out those ordered by the Senate, the actual number of executions ordered by Caesar was remarkably small.

The problem appeared to be localized within the senatorial class. One of the most remarkable things about modern Rome was that few of the commanders wanted to return to Rome to advance their careers. The further you were away, the better, and while it was quite likely that all the commanders would privately be pleased to see the end of Gaius Caesar, individually they were helpless. There was no way to get the Legates together without appearing to be plotting, and that meant a return to Rome for execution.

There was a further point. Legions fought for their commander when the commander had been brilliantly successful. Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon with battle-hardened legions filled with men who owed their very prosperity to Caesar, and who owed their lives to Caesar's brilliance in command. Sulla was effectively in the same position. Gaius Caesar was safe because there were no such successful commanders. Since the Varus disaster, Roman expansion had stopped. There was, however, the possibility that Gaius Caesar did not realize that.

A thought then struck him. The situation must be extraordinarily bad when he, a member of one of Rome's most privileged families, a man with a most promising future and with everything to lose, was contemplating a revolt. Not only that, but personal ambition had absolutely nothing to do with it. He knew he was ordinarily ridiculed, behind his back, for his loyalty to Gaius Caesar, and in the usual sense he was loyal. The problem was, Little Boots was so arrogant, and he was ruining Rome. Why should any woman have to be summoned? For what? He knew what Vipsania feared, but was that true? And what about Vipsania? Would he stand back, a spineless coward, and let all this happen? But what could he do, against a man with infinite power?

Timothy came into his quarters, shook the snow off his coat, and began standing in front of a log fire. Timothy was about to say something, then saw Gaius' dark expression, and flinched back.

"Timothy, my friend," Gaius said wearily, "I think you might find me unsuitable as a companion, and maybe you might wish to go some other way. I promise you, I understand."

"Gaius, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Gaius asked bleakly. "What's wrong is quite simple. There is something very wrong about to happen, and I have to do something to stop it, or at least try. I probably will not survive, and neither will those around me."

"Then I shall stay with you," Timothy smiled, "although," he added, "logic tells me I should have my bags packed for a fast escape."

Gaius gave a wan smile and said, "It sounds as if logic offers wise counsel."

Chapter 10

There was nothing for it but to go back. He could not leave her that way, and fortunately he had an excuse. In two days time the feast of Saturnalia was to commence, and in return for the invitation to Timothy and him to join their family in the celebrations, he had promised to take some supplies. Being eager to please him, the Iazyges had been very willing to sell him some fresh venison, in addition to what they wished to have delivered to their hostage family members. Now was as good a time as any to deliver it, so he loaded the animals onto the back of a cart and set off. It was only when he was half way there he realized the incongruity of what he was doing: people of senatorial class got somebody else to drive around on carts filled with carcasses.

It was only when he arrived that he realized that men of senatorial class do not bang on the servants' door, but neither does a load of carcasses turn up at the main entrance. He smiled a little as he eased the cart around to the rear of the building, and then he realized he was unsure of where exactly to go. He was saved by a young man who ran out, seemingly to get firewood, and who almost collided with the cart. He swore, muttered something about idiots begat of dogs who did not know where they were going or where carts went, then saw Gaius. He fell to his knees, fearfully.

"For goodness sake, get up," Gaius said calmly. "You'll freeze doing that."

"I I'm s sorry. ."

"Forget it!" Gaius said calmly, "but you can do me a favour."

"Sir?"

"Take this venison to the kitchen, would you, and let the cook know it's from me for the Saturnalia."

"Yes sir," the young slave said, and glanced fearfully around.

Gaius understood. The slave had other instructions. "Do this first," he said, "and if anyone questions you, say I ordered it. Anyone who beats you will answer to me, I promise."

"Yes sir." The man was a little more comfortable, but only a little, as Gaius got down from the cart.

"Here's a little something for you," Gaius said, feeling in his pouch. He handed the young man a couple of denarii, and shrugged as he said, "It's a bit early, I suppose, but, well, Io, Saturnalia!"

"Io, Saturnalia!" came the bemused reply. However, the young man was glad. Two denarii were very much better than a beating.

Gaius then walked around toward the main entrance. Unfortunately he was somewhat preoccupied, and he forgot that running away from the corner of the house was a small raised stone fence, now buried in the snow. He was wondering what he could say to Vipsania when his foot caught the fence, he slipped, then began rolling down the slope to end in a snowdrift where the flat garden began. He picked himself up, shook himself, then walked towards the door.

The slave who opened the door gasped at the snow-covered apparition, then called her mistress. A rather foul-mooded Vipsania came to the door to see what was going on, saw Gaius, and laughed, albeit briefly.

"You'd better come in," she said, "at least after you shake off the snow."

"I thought you might like to come for a walk," Gaius said, somewhat stiffly.

"Looking at you, that doesn't seem to be much of an offer," she retorted.

"Please?"

"Then shake off that snow, and wait a little," she said. "If I'm going to go outside with a snowman, I might as well have a coat and boots on."

Eventually she emerged, well wrapped up with furs. He led her down the path, and put his arm around her waste. They walked in silence, until Gaius finally said, "I wanted to talk privately."

"Well?"

"It's about Little Boots. I've thought about this a bit, and. ."

"Gaius! There's no point!" she said, and broke away. "There's nothing even you can do!"

"Maybe not," he replied, "but we can try."

"And what's this plan of yours?"

He held her eyes, shrugged, and said, "Little Boots seemingly wants a virgin. Simply tell him he's too late! You're no longer one."

Vipsania stepped back, and shook her head. "That'll only make him mad! He'll say it's just a smart way of saying no, then he'll ask me who did it, then he'll cut off that man's head for deflowering a virgin before a God could."

"Tell him you can't go and you're not a virgin because you're married," Gaius shrugged. "Tell him your husband won't let you leave." He paused then added, "Even Little Boots will realize a wife can't leave her husband, and a married woman's hardly likely to be a virgin."

"He won't believe that," she said sadly.

"Why not?" Gaius asked. "It's not as if women don't get married."

"But I'm not," she pointed out.

There was a pause, then Gaius took a breath and said, "If you will have me," he said simply, "we can remedy that."

Vipsania blushed a little, and asked, "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I thought that's what I said," he said irritably.

She stepped back and stared at him and shook her head. "You're just feeling sorry for me. ."

"No, I'm not!" Gaius said abruptly.

"You realize this will only bring you to Little Boots' attention. It won't save me."

"It will if all Little Boots wants is to deflower virgins," Gaius smiled.

"That's not all he wants," she shuddered. She grasped his arms, and said firmly, "Gaius, thank you, but I can't."

"What?" Gaius looked shattered.

"I can't let you wreck your career, and lose your life."

"I don't think Gaius Caesar would do that. ." Gaius started.

"Listen, Gaius!" she shook him. "Just for once, really listen to me. You're always making excuses for him, but he is vile, he is cruel, and he takes pleasure in torturing anyone who opposes him. He's a spoiled brat who's been given unlimited power, it's gone to his head, and. ."

"From what I've heard," Gaius interrupted, "he is most certainly a spoiled brat, and he does the things you say, but he is also very intelligent. He takes pleasure at gloating over those who argue with him and lose, but we still don't know what happens when he loses, but isn't seen to lose by anyone else. Just once, at least, he was a gracious loser, even if he did moan about me later."

"What're you getting at?" she frowned.

"We have to put him in the position where he can accept what has happened with good grace."

"And exactly how do you manage that?" Her tone showed that she had little faith in this being a successful strategy.

"We invite Gaius Caesar to the wedding," he said simply, "and the legates of the Rhine and Danube legions. The invitations will be to honour my. ." He paused and added quickly, "I know it's ours, and maybe more yours, but for this I'm more important. ."

"Oh yes, and why's that?" she asked tartly.

"I'm a Claudian."

"Oh well, aren't I just the lucky one!"

"Being a Claudian is important for two reasons."

"Two?" Vipsania laughed without humour. "I can't even see one."

"If what your father said is true, Caesar doesn't want you. He wants a Valerian. If you marry me, you will be a Claudian, which gets you off the hook."

"Or you onto the hook, as you put it. And what's the second reason?"

"Gaius Caesar is at least associated with the Claudian gens," Gaius said flatly, "and he will probably claim to be head of it. His grandmother married Tiberius."

"A rather thin reason why you would be safe," she pointed out.

"That's not the point," Gaius shook his head. "It's not what is that counts, but what might be."

"I don't follow," she shook her head doubtfully, "but believe me this is not a matter for philosophy."

"I'm talking about strategy," Gaius responded.

"Well?" she said doubtfully.

"The invitations will be to honour my. . a Claudian's wedding, but more importantly, the invitations will also specifically announce that the guests will at the same time honour the head of the Claudian gens, and renew their pledges of loyalty to Caesar," he said.

"Go on," she said, without any particular enthusiasm.

"To start with, the other Legates won't be quite sure what is going on, but they won't dare not come, because if they didn't it would be an insult to Gaius Caesar."

"So?"

"Little Boots has trodden on everyone, he enjoys demonstrating his power, but he's also frightfully insecure. He knows people in higher positions hate him, and he's terrified of plots. I'll take a small bet that when Gaius Caesar sees all the other Legates are invited, he will add up the number of Legions they represent, and they would be sufficient to control Rome. I think he'll suspect that somebody will try to assassinate him. I'll bet he won't attend," Gaius said.

"He'll bring part of his Praetorian guard," Vipsania pointed out.

"They'd last no time at all," Gaius snorted. "They'd put the fear up the average senator, but they'd last five minutes at the most against a century of the first cohort."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You'd do this for me?" she gasped.

"My guess is Little Boots won't let it come to that," he said. "My guess is, with the promise of a pledge of loyalty from the legion commanders, he'll stay safely at home and accept the pledge. Especially if you get your friendly Governor to plead with him privately."

"And you're that sure you want to risk your career?"

"I don't think Gaius Caesar's as bad as you seem to think, and I'm sure he's not stupid," Gaius said, "and in any case, that's not really the reason I'm asking."

"You're sure?"

"It's part of the reason I'm asking now," Gaius nodded, "but the last few weeks, well, I've been wondering how to get around to it and. ."

"There'll be no dowry," she pointed out. "Little Boots has announced he'll confiscate our entire estate, unless. ."

"A Claudian has no need for dowries," Gaius pointed out proudly, and somewhat pompously.

"Claudii are amongst the greedier and most devious in Rome," Vipsania agreed.

He stared at her, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"And what's so funny?"

"Here I am, trying to get you to marry me, and all I seem to have achieved is to start a fight. Someone once told me I was not much good with women, and it seems. ."

"Gaius!"

"Yes?"

"You'll have to get my father's permission."

"And if I do?" he asked.

"Then I wouldn't have any choice, would I?" she teased.

"Of course you would," Gaius grinned. "I've seen. ."

"Please," she said, and came close to him and kissed him, "try to persuade my father."

"I'll see what I can do," Gaius replied, and returned her kiss.

"And he'd better not say no," Vipsania said firmly, and grasped him. He wrapped his arms about her, then somehow one of them lost their footing and they fell over into the snow. As they got up, she threw a snowball at him.

* * *

"So you propose to marry Vipsania?"" Messala asked. "What does your father say about this?"

"My father's dead," Gaius replied simply. "I may have mentioned that I believe he was killed by Little Boots' thugs."

"I'm sorry. I forgot. This's a bit of a surprise to me."

Especially if you were going to use Vipsania to get you off your own hook, Gaius thought to himself, but said nothing.

"You've asked Vipsania and she's agreed?"

"Yes," Gaius replied simply.

"You realize this could get you badly offside with Caesar?"

"Perhaps, but I don't think it will."

"Then I'd better not say no," her father said. "Especially if I want to stay alive."

* * *

"Your father agreed," Gaius announced. "You will soon be married."

"And you'll be really in deep trouble. Gaius, I'm really grateful, but can you afford to go through with this?"

"I can't not go through with it now," Gaius shrugged, "added to which, I should let you into a secret. If a prophecy I once received is right, everything's going to be all right."

"Oh, a prophecy! Well. . And who gave you this?"

"She. ."

"Oh! A she!" Vipsania interrupted tartly.

"She called herself Pallas Athene."

"I thought you didn't believe in the Gods?" a bemused Vipsania said.

"It was rather weird," Gaius said. "It was a sort of a dream, when I went to sleep at a temple to Athene. ."

"You went to sleep in a temple. That shows strong belief! And what did this prophecy say?"

"It said quite a bit, some of which has come to pass. The fact that there's a lot more to come means I can't die yet."

"I wouldn't bet on that too much," Vipsania sighed. "Tell me something about this prophecy to convince me."

"The woman in my life," Gaius said simply, then realized he was being a little sparing with the truth, "would be absolutely beautiful."

"Flattering," Vipsania replied, "but not exactly definitive."

"Further, Athene said I would ignore her. Recall what happened at the bridge?"

"But that's. ." She found that she did not know how to continue.

"I've actually mentioned this prophecy to Little Boots before. In the invitation to him, I should add that you have been clearly identified by Athene, and I must fulfil my part of that aspect of the prophecy."

"You think that'll do any good?"

"One other part of the prophecy was that my legion would be the most loyal of all," Gaius explained. "I have already told Caesar that, and hopefully Caesar will let that part of the prophecy run."

"Well," Vipsania said in a tone of almost total disbelief. "Aren't I the lucky one, attached to one blessed by the Gods!"

It was only later that Gaius realized that she might be cursed. There were to be two women in his life. Well, the ugliest of all could definitely be put off until later, and in any case, the prophecy said nothing about that one being his wife.

Chapter 11

Slave's day: the day of the Saturnalia when everything was turned upside down. For this one day in a year the slaves played the role of masters, and the masters served the slaves. Because there was always tomorrow, the slaves tried to make their points with good humour. On the other hand, they were reasonably safe because a master who later beat a slave for something that others had laughed at would at the least lose so much face he would regret doing so for a very long time.

When Gaius arrived, he was greeted by Vipsania. As she remarked, today there were no slaves to open doors, or do anything else, for that matter. Their absence, however, did let Gaius get a quick kiss before he entered. As he expected, he soon noticed one of the slaves dressed up in military attire, and on closer inspection, he saw it was the young man who had run into his cart. As he said to Vipsania, he now had some idea of what was likely to come.

He had to hang up his own cloak, then he returned to the main room, where the slaves were gathered around a fire.

"A poor fire!" one of the slaves said loudly. "It needs more wood."

"Yes, Master," Vipsania's father said, and put the last of the wood on the fire.

"You!" another said, pointing to Gaius. "Refill the box, and make sure there's enough to last all day."

"Yes, Master!" Gaius bowed. He smiled to himself as he went back collect his cloak. He went to the back door, wrapped himself up, and headed to where he suspected the woodshed was. As he suspected, the large number of footprints in the snow did not go to the woodshed. The slaves had carefully set him up, for the largest number of footprints seemed to disappear down a path that went over a rise. Nevertheless, someone must have used the woodshed that morning. He looked carefully around, and there were tracks, almost concealed by the fresh snow, and he followed those. There was the woodshed.

He looked around the woodshed, and saw that there was adequate wood cut for the day, but only just. That was definitely a hint, so Gaius shrugged and took an axe. He looked at the edge, and as expected, it was probably an old axe, and it was rather blunt. He took it to the stone, and spent some time sharpening it, then he took it back to the selection of logs, pulled one out, and after hanging up his cloak he began swinging.

The work kept him warm and, for a while at least, it was quite pleasant to be in this rustic shed. The floor was liberally covered with wood chips, and he felt that these somehow kept the shed a little warmer than outside. The rough-hewn logs that comprised the outside wall gave the shed a feeling of solidity; it might be snowing outside, and the roof might be carrying quite a weight, but these small trees would hold it. The steeply sloping roof above also gave him a feeling of both safety, for not too much snow would be able to lie there without rolling off, but also of nervous sanctuary. All sorts of things could be living up there, for at the top it was so dark that he could see nothing, and he was sure there were bats, maybe blood-sucking bats. Still, there were no skeletons on the floor, so, keep chopping! He had quickly achieved the rhythmic swing, with the power coming through the entire upper body. One of the problems with being a Legate was that there was a tendency to become relatively unfit, or alternatively fitness resided in the legs and lungs. These were good to have, but the difference between life and death came from strength in the upper body, the arms and the shoulders. He was only too well aware that getting on the wrong side of Little Boots could well mean that either this was his last winter, or he could have to use all his skills at fighting and evasion.

Outside, the snow was falling more heavily, visibility was lower, and the view was now of almost uniformly grey-white. Even the villa was a barely discernible grey shadow against the lighter grey background. From there, the woodshed would be invisible, and this whiteout, he reflected wryly, might be starting to worry some of the slaves. Since he had not known where the woodshed was, and if he had followed the main line of footprints as they might have expected, he might be lost. As he kept chopping, he felt rather pleased with himself that the pile was becoming reasonably impressive, and of course there was nothing like having the slaves get a little worried with their new authority.

Chopping should clear the mind, and it did, until thoughts of Little Boots came to the fore. They made him angry, which lead him to chop more vigorously. It seemed wrong that here, on Saturnalia, his first real Saturnalia since he had left the estate to go to Capri, he had to spend all his efforts wondering how to keep the woman he loved out of the hands of a little boot.

After an hour, a good heap of wood lay against the wall. Gaius leaned back against a post away from the door and realized he was becoming thirsty. He was beginning to wonder whether he should go back inside, when a snow covered shape charged into the shed, gave a cursory look around, then swore quietly.

"Looking for someone?" Gaius asked, from the shadows of the corner.

The slave jumped a little, turned, and then said, with a great effort to disguise a considerable amount of relief, "Oh! There you are."

"Is that enough?" Gaius asked, a little pleased now that he had stayed. Clearly there had been concern, and this slave had no desire to be trudging around in the snow looking for him.

The slave glanced at the heap of wood for the first time and gave a start. He recovered quickly and nodded, "That'll do. We've got to go back inside. They're waiting for you."

Gaius nodded, and decided to fill a basket with wood. There was little doubt he would be back out here, so he might as well take as much as he could carry, to reduce the number of visits.

Gaius dumped the load of wood beside the firebox, took his cloak back to the pegs, then came back into the big room and looked around. The slaves had surveyed the scene and ensured they could afford to enjoy themselves. At last all the 'masters' were present, currently seated before the carefully prepared stage and ready for the day, and more to the point, were in reasonably good spirits. The slaves were now confident enough to take full control.

A large gong was struck, and a rather dumpy 'Saturn' strode onto the stage, followed by the required number of extras. The traditional binding and unbinding took place, until finally Saturn decreed that the time for sowing was approaching, and once again the harvest would be good. Now was the time for wine and feasting. Io Saturnalia!

This was the signal for the masters to arise, and ensure that the traditional cake was distributed evenly amongst those slaves there. Each took their piece, and began eating. Suddenly there was a cry from one of the young female slaves. "I've got it! I've got it!" She waved around the small dark bean that had been embedded in her piece of cake. The discovery was quickly confirmed, and all waited.

Very solemnly she walked around those present, first amongst the masters, a move that fooled nobody, for she could never select one of them, then she walked amongst the slaves, waving the bean in front of faces, studying the faces, then moving on. This, in turn, fooled nobody. The slaves knew fine well who would be chosen, for it seemed this young woman had clear desires on one of the younger slaves who had managed to acquire a relatively prosperous peculium. They were correct. She finally came in front of the one slave she had not approached before; she curtsied and handed over the bean, thus appointing the Saturnalicus Princeps, the Lord of Misrule. Io Saturnalia!

As was customary, a "throne" was demanded, and produced, and the Princeps was dressed in truly lavish clothes. No luxury was withheld, for to do so invited the punishments of the Saturnalicus Princeps, not that these could be avoided.

He took his throne, surveyed the scene, looked at the young woman who had appointed him, then announced, to the surprise of nobody, that she would be his princess. Such an appointment, perforce, required another throne, which again had been anticipated and was quickly produced.

The Saturnalicus Princeps glanced at the slave again, and announced that her clothes were hardly suitable for a princess. He pointed at Vipsania, and ordered, "Dress her in your best clothes!"

Vipsania nodded. Io Saturnalia! She made off, and came back with a genuinely marvellous gown. She strode up towards the young woman when the Saturnalicus Princeps shook his head and ordered, "Her hair is unclean. Wash it!"

Vipsania nodded, gave the required, "Io Saturnalia!" and left to find some warm water. She was almost ready to start, when suddenly the young woman darted off, muttering something about needing better boots. Vipsania had to follow, but once she had found some suitable boots, and before she could get the young slave to try them on, once again the young girl darted off. It was not long before the point was made: if Vipsania wanted help with her appearance, the least she could do was sit still and be patient.

Meanwhile, the Saturnalicus Princeps pointed to her father, and informed him that that sculpture by the fireplace should be halfway up the stairs. With an "Io Saturnalia!" the sculpture was moved. The Saturnalicus Princeps then turned to Vipsania's mother, and noted that the sculpture really belonged nearer the main door. With an "Io Saturnalia!" the sculpture was once again moved. Then the Saturnalicus Princeps scolded Vipsania for having made no progress, and for having dribbled water all over the floor. That should be cleaned immediately, and why was it that such a simple task as hair washing could not be done. The message was clear: not only should she sit still, but her antics created a lot of other work for the slaves. Then, he pointed to the father, and pointed out that he was slack, because the sculpture could not be seen on the stairways. When it was moved again, to some mirth from the slaves, the mother was questioned. Again the message was clear: try to make up your minds what you want and stop giving contradictory orders.

These antics went on for a little while, but even the Saturnalicus Princeps knew there was a tomorrow, so he called a halt to such ridiculous goings on, and demanded wine for everybody. "Io Saturnalia!" Each goblet was filled by the masters, the slaves now drinking out of gold, the masters out of pottery. As he filled a goblet, the master would bow and state Io Saturnalia! If the slave felt his goblet was filled, and he had been treated well over the year, he would return the wish Io Saturnalia! Gaius made sure he filled the goblet for the young man who had collided with his cart. He was fairly certain that when the acts started, he would be the butt of something, so there was nothing like getting on the right side of his 'master' for the day. As he suspected, two denarii at least got him a warm Io Saturnalia!

The Saturnalicus Princeps then looked over the masters, and demanded that food preparation get underway. Dutifully, they picked themselves up to go to the kitchen, but this time some of the slaves came too. This was the one day of the year when they could eat the richest of the pickings, and they were not going to have this feast spoiled by inept cooks. And so while the necessary work was carried out by the masters, it was carried out under the very keen eyes of the cooks. By tradition, the slaves had to get their food before the masters, but in this case there was clearly no shortage of food.

A very prolonged feast followed, during which time certain acts were put on by slaves, which showed up some of what they had noticed through the year. The health of a household could be determined at this time: the better the masters were, the further the slaves felt they could go.

After a series of increasingly ribald scenes, the Saturnalicus Princeps leaped to his feet and demanded support for a clean day. The place, he noted, was beginning to bear some resemblance to a pigsty, and had to be cleaned. To many guffaws, a post was brought in for him to lean on, but Gaius noticed that the post was unusual in that it had something wound around it. In fact, it looked not unlike a gigantic model of one of his bolts, standing on its end. The Saturnalicus Princeps then stood as tall as he could, bearing in mind the post must have been taking most of his weight, and pointed to a slave and said, "Take that rock, take that feather, and teach me something, or else you will be cleaning these pigsties!"

As Gaius expected, the slave took a heavy rock and placed a feather on top of it. He then held the rock out, and dropped it, seemingly on his toe. To many more alcohol-induced guffaws, he began hopping around.

"And what have you learned?" the Saturnalicus Princeps demanded.

"The rock is heavier," came the lugubrious reply.

"Io Saturnalia!" the Saturnalicus Princeps exclaimed, as most of the audience made various humorous gestures towards Gaius. "We shall spare you the dreaded pigsties!"

"Thank you, Princeps!" the slave said, still hopping. By now the alcohol was causing him to lose some control over his hopping, and he collided with a cushion. With a deal of arm waving he flopped down almost beside one of the female slaves, who then threw a cushion over his head, and a minor wrestling match between them commenced.

"So much for keeping it clean," the Saturnalicus Princeps shook his head, then after some thought, he called, "Bring me a robe!"

This was somewhat unusual. As the evening drew on the slaves usually took the opportunity to remove clothes, usually, as appeared to be happening with the couple wrestling in the corner, from members of the other sex. Nevertheless, a large red robe was brought on. He put it on, and Gaius could not help noticing that it looked suspiciously like an attempt to represent a Legate's robe.

The princess, dressed in Vipsania's best dress, now began walking around the room. Then, from the ceiling, a pair of small sandals was lowered, and these began 'walking' around the room, about a meter above the floor.

"A virgin! I need a virgin!" came a cry from out the back. Then the sandals began to follow the princess, who began squealing, "Woe! Woe! Never! Never!"

Suddenly, a fat cupid appeared, with a short bow. He looked at the audience, shook his head, and said, "If being a virgin is a problem, I have the answer!" He hooked on an arrow to his bow, and added, "When this strikes, the man will love the first one he sees!"

All was now reasonably clear to the audience. The rather unusual instruction to 'Keep it clean!' was unlikely to be kept much longer. Io Saturnalia!

The cupid circled around the Saturnalicus Princeps who made a point of being oblivious to his presence. Then the arrow struck, and the Saturnalicus Princeps swung around, and began hugging the bolt. The cupid turned to the audience, shrugged, and said, "That dolt has fallen for a bolt! Something must be done! I call on the great God Saturn!"

The Saturn now appeared, shook his head in despair, and pointed a staff. Suddenly, the bolt unravelled, and to much mirth the Saturnalicus Princeps was flung around the 'bolt' in increasingly large circles until finally he was free, but still spinning giddily. The robe, meanwhile, had come off, and his other clothing was clearly following closely. A final 'effort' was made to retain his balance, which clearly failed, and he fell down beside his princess.

Saturn now made his usual speech to end 'formal proceedings'. He foretold a good harvest in the coming year, fertile stock, and then finally, looking down at the couple who had moved to a sofa in the next room, he mentioned that certain slaves should be permitted to marry. Then, with the look of a man who knows he is out of place, but realizing that this would be the one chance he had to make his point and live, he added that at least one other couple should also marry. If they did so soon, the Gods would bless them with a most interesting life.

* * *

"We should quickly send a message to Caesar," Gaius noted to Vipsania afterwards, "and tell him we have both had a vision from the Gods. That should make the interesting part of that prophecy descend on us fairly quickly."

"You're still prepared to?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he nodded, and kissed her lightly. Then he stepped back, and said in a very serious tone. "I have given you my word, and you know what a Claudian's word is worth."

"Indeed I do," she grinned, while she shook her head in disbelief. "They are the most duplicitous lot in Rome!"

Chapter 12

The wedding became quite an event, in part because in the middle of winter there were not very many events outside Rome. Several Legates attended, and while one, from the seventh, merely had to cross the town, some had travelled quite some distance for it was a good opportunity for senior officers of legions to meet. The Governor of Dalmatia, Furius Camillus Scribonianus, was in attendance, and as Timothy informed Gaius later, Scribonianus seemed to spend much time in deep conversation with Vipsania's father.

Aulus Plautius also attended, and gave a small gift, and perhaps a larger one; he had written to the Princeps, telling him how pleased the army on the Danube was for Gaius, and how Gaius intended to use the event to reinforce the sense of loyalty to the Princeps. It gave Roman traders an opportunity to meet the influential class, and strangely it gave some of the tribes from across the river an opportunity to demonstrate their allegiance, although to whom was not entirely clear. As Gaius remarked to Vipsania later, he seemed to be one of Gaius Caesar's strongest advocates, and his advocacy tended to be limited to, "Give the man another chance!" or "He must have a reason."

The next few weeks were fiercely passionate, and so very tense. Vipsania could not stop imagining what the consequences would be. She had dark days and extremely dark days, and only approached being bearable when she was actively doing something. There was simply not enough to take her mind off Rome. She imagined all sorts of responses, but all involved Little Boots taking out his spite on her. Or on Gaius. Or on both. All that varied was the degree of harm.

From the outside, Gaius appeared to be untroubled. Inside, he seethed. He could visualize a few simple responses from Rome, and his problem was, what would he do? One thing he knew: if he turned Vipsania over to Little Boots, he would never see her again. If Little Boots did not kill her, she would do it herself. At moments like that the prophecy flashed across his mind. There would be two women in his life. That implied that something had to happen to the first.

The trouble was, even if the Gods had spoken, and declared there would be two women, it did not mean he would marry both of them, or for that matter, it did not even mean the ugly one would be on his side. She could be some enemy Queen.

All of which was irrelevant. The question was, what would he do? In effect there were two options: obey or not obey. Obey and Vipsania would die; not obey, and he was in open revolt. From then on, Rome would have him executed if they caught him. If he ran, he and Vipsania would be penniless, an embarrassment to any nearby king. Unless he could provide the enemy with the means to defeat Rome, he would be handed back. So he might as well stay, fight and die beside his Vipsania. There was no way out of this problem.

Unless he won. He would not be the first Roman to bring legions into Rome, nominally to right wrongs, but really to satisfy the commander's political ambitions. He did not have legions, but he was aware that the legions on the Rhine were only barely loyal, and their loyalty was to the Principate, and not to Little Boots.

But revolt against Rome was, well, unthinkable. All the work of the great Augustus would be for nothing. They would be back into the dark days of the Republic. And that would be what the legions on the Rhine would conclude.

All he could do was hope that Little Boots had other things on his mind. So, outwardly he seemed untroubled, and he did his best to lift Vipsania's spirits.

* * *

The response from Rome eventually arrived in the form of a despatch case carried by a Praetorian. Gaius took the leather case and dismissed the soldier. If nothing else, he had no intention of letting anyone see his reaction. Eventually he broke the seal and slowly opened the case. What he found was quite unexpected. There was a small bag, and a brief note from the Princeps: For saving the life of a young lady of senatorial class, one corona civica; for extending the range of the empire through military conquest, one corona murales. The recommended decorations for the men who were on the raid have been approved, and the messenger will have deposited them at the legionary headquarters. Congratulate your men. G.

Gaius stared at the letter, then decided that while there could be hidden messages, the more important one was that he was safe for the moment, at least. Of all the things he had expected, decorations were the last. Gaius Caesar seemed to be handing these out like water, except that he was unaware of many others receiving them. It was almost as if Caesar was, after all, favouring him, although why this should be eluded him.

* * *

By the end of February the border was peaceful, the legion more or less ran itself, and for Gaius, life seemed to be heavenly. By now he had decided that Little Boots had forgotten about him. It was just when Vipsania had finally agreed with Gaius that Little Boots' attentions would go elsewhere that a message bearing an imperial seal came from Rome. Vipsania saw it, and the colour drained from her face.

"That's odd," Gaius frowned.

"What's odd about the outside of a letter?" Vipsania said. "If only the inside's merely odd. ."

"It also has Claudius' seal, and not Little Boots'," Gaius frowned. He opened the letter and added, "It's Claudius' writing!"

"Claudius?" Vipsania frowned. "You mean. ."

"The stutterer," Gaius grinned, "but also the man I've been corresponding with for some number of years."

"Hah! Your source of influence! That's how you got a legion!"

"I'm not too sure about influence," Gaius said, then paused as he saw the signature, "Until now, that is."

"He's been promoted by Little Boots?"

"Not exactly," Gaius said, "but you can sleep soundly and without fear of Little Boots."

"Ho! Ho! You don't know the man!" Vipsania said scathingly.

"I don't have to," Gaius replied. "Listen!

Gaius, Greetings! Congratulations to you and Vipsania on your recent marriage. May your lives be long and prosperous. When either of you return to Rome, please come and see me immediately.

I have long valued our correspondence and your thoughts. I trust you will continue to give me the benefit of both. I need every real friend I can get.

Gaius Caesar's fear of conspiracies seems to have been well founded, as he has been assassinated. You may be interested to know that he had consulted the oracle at Antium, who warned him to beware of Cassius. Accordingly, he recalled Gaius Cassius Longinus, whose brother, Lucius, had been married to Drusilla. These two, and Lucius in particular, had a very bad habit of pointing out they had descended from the Cassius who murdered the other Gaius Julius Caesar. Fortunately for this Cassius, he did not return to Rome fast enough.

On his last day, Little Boots was in good spirits, but the portents were bad. He went to the theatre on the Palatine, where he sacrificed a flamingo to Jupiter, but he did it clumsily, and blood went everywhere, including over the toga of Publius Nonius Asprenas. However, Caesar, this day, took no notice of the portents, and when he was returning for lunch he was struck down by the Praetorian Tribunes Cassius Chaerea, Cornelius Sabinus, and a number of lesser men. Interestingly, the only attempt to protect Caesar came from the litter-bearers, the humblest there, who tried to use their poles.

I now know something about the plots. The chief plotter appears to have been Annius Vinicianus, and you should be warned that one plotter appears to have been Valerius Asiaticus, although he seems to have kept a distance from the event. Vinicianus was lucky, at least for a while, to be seized by more loyal Praetorians and brought before Clemens, who let him go. German bodyguards became involved, and killed a number of conspirators, including the senators Asprenas, who had not taken the warning, Lucius Norbanus Balbus, as well as a number of people who could not resist trying to look at the dead Caesar. At the same time, different plotters murdered Caesonia and little Drusilla.

Why is not clear. You might be amused to hear that there were even rumours running through Rome that the Legions on the Rhine and on the Danube were uniting to get rid of Caesar. Perhaps the Praetorians were struck by the realization they just might have to stand and fight soldiers, and they were not very keen to do that. As to how such rumours started, your guess is almost certainly better than mine!

Whatever the reason, what followed was sheer ineptitude. While the crowds were furious, rather than proceed to restore the Republic, all the senators could do was to bicker amongst themselves as to who would be Princeps. Leading contenders, who vetoed each other, were Vinicianus, Asiaticus and Saturninus, who spoke out most strongly in favour of getting rid of me! I am afraid that this last chance to restore the Republic was lost. The senators were completely self-serving, and gave no thought at all to the average Roman. Accordingly, the average Roman gave no thought thereafter to them, and even the Praetorians realized that they could not put up with all this self-interest. All that wretched Saturninus could moan about in the Senate was the hard life of the privileged!

At this point the Praetorians then seemed to have decided they needed some dummy to authorize their keeping the Senate under control and avoid civil war, so they searched through the palace, and found me.

Needless to say, I am no dummy. I have had Cassius commit suicide. Some in Rome think he should have been rewarded, but I feel we cannot have soldiers assassinating the Princeps. Such action must be discouraged.

I trust I can count on your continued support and loyalty. Please let me know what the army thinks.

Your stuttering Claudius,

Princeps.'"

"Princeps?" Vipsania asked in amazement.

"That explains the seals," Gaius nodded. "The penalty for use of that seal by any other than the Princeps is death."

"You're on that close of terms with the new Princeps?" she asked in complete amazement.

"So it appears," Gaius replied.

"My!" she grinned. "Won't I be able to lord it over one or two noxious Roman matrons!"

"You might even be able to do that," Gaius nodded, "but if nothing else, you are now quite safe. You can go to Rome whenever you wish, and you will have the protection of the most powerful man in Rome."

Chapter 13

It took little time before Gaius was summoned before Plautius. As Gaius strode into the room, he had a strange feeling that Plautius was deferring to him, rather than the other way around. "I gather you've received a message from the new Princeps?" Plautius asked cautiously, before Gaius could even begin to greet him.

"Yes, Governor," Gaius said, then he explained, "It was merely informing me of the transition, and requesting my loyalty, which, of course, I give without question."

"Nobody else got a letter like that," Plautius added, perhaps a little peevishly. He was certainly nervous.

"I have been corresponding with Claudius since I was a boy," Gaius admitted, "and I think that's the reason."

"I've been required to communicate through Narcissus," Plautius added sourly. "From what I gather, he's a freed slave."

"He's been Claudius' secretary for some time," Gaius said. "He's one of the few people Claudius can trust right now, so I'd guess Narcissus will become very influential."

"I see. ." Plautius was struggling, as if he wanted to ask something, but his natural caution prevented him.

"May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Go on," Plautius said, with a strange mixture of eagerness and apprehension in his voice.

"Call the Pannonnian Legates, and other high officials, get them to swear allegiance to the new Princeps, and report to Rome that you have done exactly that." He smiled, and added, "First in gets the pick of the favours."

"Very sound," Plautius nodded sourly, as he could virtually assume that Gaius would reply to the new Princeps that he had made such a recommendation.

* * *

Shortly after the meeting, Gaius sent Claudius a message confirming that which Plautius had sent, and he added that he had personally spoken to the other legion commanders, and that the army of Pannonia was loyal to the Princeps, it trusted his term would be long and successful, that he would restore prosperity and order to Rome, and restore the dignity that was due to Rome, and which had been dissipated by Gaius Caesar.

Some time later, a message came from Claudius. It thanked him for the loyalty, and he wished Gaius to convey his and Rome's good wishes to the Iazygian chief when the weather improved. He approved of Gaius' agreement, and if need be, approval was hereby given for the Legion to take military action to support these Iazyges. Meanwhile, Claudius was a little concerned that he had received no promise of support from Scribonianus. Could Gaius determine where the loyalties lay with the other legions, particularly the seventh?

Gaius replied that he was on good terms with Lucius Cornelius Cinna, the Legate of the seventh who was a descendant of a rather famous Roman General with the same name, and with the Tribunes, as they had shared many meals over the winter. He had personally spoken to each of them, and they had sworn their loyalty. He could not speak for Scribonianus, but as far as he knew there was no reason to believe that he too was not loyal.

* * *

As the spring came, Gaius decided the legion should return to Lussonia. He had clear orders from the Princeps, and additionally, he did not like the idea of a legion sitting around in barracks. That left the issue of Vipsania.

"I don't think the frontier is a good place for you," he said, one evening.

"And what do you wish?"

"Go back to Rome," Gaius said.

"And do what?"

"Manage my property, amongst other things," Gaius said. "Of course, the ranch has a steward, and for most practical purposes, he should be left to get on with his job, but I trust you, and there has to be someone with authority, and who can tell me what is really happening, as opposed to what they think I want to hear."

"Who's doing that now?"

"Quintus Flavius. He's Lucilla's husband. Lucilla's my sister."

"You don't trust him?"

"As it happens, I see no reason not to, but he is now head of his own family, and he will have more important things to do, at least as far as he's concerned."

"And that's all?"

"Once you get to Rome, remember, Claudius has asked to see you, so you should do so promptly. Also, I want you to keep your ears open. It seems there were a lot of people plotting against Little Boots, and it wouldn't surprise me if the same didn't happen to Claudius."

"And if I hear something?"

"If it's urgent, warn Claudius. If it isn't specific and immediate, let me know."

Gaius could see that she was not exactly happy to have to go back, but as he pointed out, if a significant campaign started, she would see nothing of him anyway, and he would feel much better if he did not have to worry about what was happening to her. It was something of a surprise to her when he countered her argument that she would be well behind the front lines with the comment that there were no such things. Yes, the Danube acted as a boundary, but only a boundary beyond which Rome had no claim. There was nothing to stop large raiding parties crossing the river, and indeed such an event happened the time they first met. Such parties could travel unhindered for well over a hundred miles, because there was no solid line of Roman fortifications. As long as they raided quickly, they could get away with it, because it would take time for the Roman army to find them. While it might be unlikely for a place like Lussonium to be raided, it was far from impossible.

Accordingly, a few days later Vipsania was put on a boat, and began her journey back to Italy.

Chapter 14

The Legion had been at Lussonium for a week, and having become established, the usual procedure appeared to be that various centuries would march to various fortifications along the Danube, to maintain a presence and establish the Roman boundary. This time would be different. Gaius called the Tribunes and Prime Centurions to a meeting.

"The standard way that Rome fights," Gaius began to address them, "is to form a line, lock shields, push and stab, and as the line gets tired, replace it with a fresh line. This is extremely efficient because the Roman troops are sufficiently disciplined to pull this off, while the other side fight until they tire, which as you know doesn't take all that long. It also works because our armour is very effective, and in general our opponents are relatively poorly armoured. In the one battle we've fought together, the third cohort will tell you how efficient this method is, particularly when the terrain is advantageous, as it was in that battle.

"Why am I telling you all this? Well, there's a problem. In the battle I just referred to, we chose the terrain, and we can't always do that. The basic weakness of this method is that if the enemy can break the line and get in behind us, then the heavy shields are less of an advantage, the armour means our field of vision is less than it might be, and quite simply, heavy means slow. The nimble get in behind and can do a lot of damage.

"The basic problem with the terrain around here is that it's all forest. We can't advance through trees with a fixed line, which means we can't prevent enemy getting in between us or behind us. If they get to intermingle with us, the battle ends up as a one on one slogging match, and if they get in behind us, they get free shots. If we're not careful, the enemy can slaughter us. If you don't think so, remember the Teutoberg Forest.

"Yes, part of the problem there was that Varus was a fool. He went on a punitive expedition without properly scouting out the route and he let his men store their arms in carts. He accepted tracks where marching was little better than single file, and he had an enemy who knew how the Roman army fought and had planned the right way to defeat a legion in a forest. The net result was that his men were ambushed in thick forest, where it was impossible to form proper lines, and in any case the men couldn't even get at their weapons quickly. Those sorts of stupidities are avoidable, but even so, the evidence from other campaigns, such as those of Tiberius in this general region, are enough to indicate we are making things hard for ourselves in the forest.

"Maybe the Varus-type ambush won't always work, but the fact remains, fighting in a forest puts us at a disadvantage, unless. ." He paused, and watched for reaction. The faces were impassive.

"Unless we have worked out a better way to fight in forests," Gaius continued. "Accordingly, this summer we are not going to just occupy defensive positions along the side of the Danube. We are going to have forest drills. Each cohort will divide into two sections, which means some centuries may have to temporarily merge with others. For the purposes of this exercise the first will split into four such sections, as if it were two cohorts.

"Each of these sections will have names, and will take part in exercises in which they are either defensive or offensive. The defensive sections will have to march between two points through parts of the forest. The offensive section has to ambush them, and for the purposes of these exercises, while every soldier will fight with wooden swords, if they are struck with a wooden sword they will behave as if it were real, and there will be an assessor with each attacking party. Archers will have arrows with large soft round ends. Just in case troops run into raiders, each soldier will also carry a gladius, but they will not under any circumstances use them on other soldiers, or else.

"Now, the purpose of this, and why you are here. I want this to be a competition, so we can work out what works and what doesn't in the forest. I also want to see which of you Tribunes can contribute tactically, so feel free to use your imagination, which gets me to the next point of this meeting. Too many Tribunes spend too much time in tents. Now I know some of you are using this period to start a career in administration, and in the end will spend a relatively short period in the army, and I know the senior Centurions effectively lead the cohorts into battle. They do this because they have the experience, and we don't want amateurs blundering around."

Gaius paused, and thought to himself that that was exactly what the Centurions had thought of his actions in his first major battle. They had not been ready for a Tribune who wanted to control the strategy. Yes, he had won, but as he had begun to see more of the Tribunes in different legions, he realized the Centurions' fears would have been appropriate for most of them.

"You will have to decide whether you wish to contribute to controlling your part of the battles or not. I shall set the overall strategy for a battle, and I shall order certain advances and certain tactics, but in the heat of the action, messages do not easily get through and I need officers with the ability to control two or three cohorts to be in the field. I need to know who here has any ability. At least three of the Tribunes will be field officers and not staff officers.

"Now, to the point of these exercises. I don't mind your trying something that doesn't work, but I will be more than a little peeved if nobody tries anything. I need to find out who amongst you Tribunes has any ability, so if you think you have, now will be a good time to show it. That also means there are limitations to what you can do in these exercises. While evading the enemy is often a good idea, the marches will be long enough that it should take about five hours by the shortest route. I don't want the defensive side to win by going some other way. That could well be the best thing to do in the field, but it won't teach us anything about tactics. Right, that's it. Let's see what we can learn."

At first, nothing much was learnt, apart from the fact that some Tribunes were better than others at setting ambushes. If that was ignored, there was a further problem: both sides always fought like Romans. While this was hardly surprising given that the advances were led by very experienced Centurions, and while in many ways it was good, it also limited what could be learned. The one lesson that stood out above all else was that those not ambushing usually prevailed only when their scouts located the ambushers well before engagement. This was not exactly surprising, but it did lead Gaius to encouraging as many of those who had originated from forested areas to learn scouting.

Gaius also decided that it was better to march with centuries reasonably separated, but otherwise as compact as they could manage. That way, it would be difficult for all centuries to be ambushed at the same time, and while some would have a more difficult job defending themselves, at least for a time, the others would have the freedom to get in behind the ambushers. Would that work? He did not know, but it seemed plausible. But if he were to do that, it would be almost essential to split the archers up, and march them with centuries. That way, if an ambush commenced, the century under attack could form a small defensive square, or circle, with some archers in the middle. This might buy time.

How to attack? And what with? The gladius was an ideal weapon for the infantry in an advancing shield wall. Where the wall could close up on the opponent, the shields made it very difficult to be struck by a swinging weapon, and the offensive strike was made by a quick stabbing action. But in a forest, it was not so easy to close in on an enemy. Here, the lighter auxiliaries might be of more value. They could move faster, and might be better at fighting in open file, where quick movement and a longer reach might be important. In which case, for them longer swords and long spears, as used by the Iazyges, might be better weapons. After all, those who fought all their battles in forests had probably developed the most suitable weapons for that sort of fighting. Such a style of fighting was hardly standard Roman tactics, but one style was not necessarily applicable to all terrain, and the fact remained that it was in forested areas that the Roman army had had most of its difficulties.

The summer was surprisingly warm, and centuries of the legion marched all over the countryside, much to the initial consternation and finally the general mirth of the local population. There was no need for river crossings, and trade was prolific with those on the other side of the river. At last the Empire was working as it should, and even those on the other side of the river appreciated the civilizing effect of Rome.

* * *

In the later summer, word came of a large band of such raiders from the Northeast who appeared to be heading in the direction of the client Iazyges over the river. While there was no obligation to do anything about this, Gaius sent a messenger offering assistance. Firstly, it was always better to have friends over the river, and secondly it would give him a chance to see how the Iazyges fought in the forest. Not surprisingly, the offer was accepted, and four cohorts, including the first, crossed the river.

Now was the chance to see what they had learned, for they had to make a forced march to the main village. Fortunately, the tracks were wide and the cohorts could march almost as if in open terrain. The one difference was that Gaius insisted that the archers and auxiliaries were evenly spread throughout the heavy infantry. They reached the main village without incident, and this time the Romans constructed their defensive camp well away from the village.

The Romans and an equal number of Iazyges marched north the following day, each side watching the other with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Fortunately, the terrain soon forced each to march at a distance from the other. The last thing either needed were the inevitable taunts that could lead to a fight between them.

On day five the first news came from one of the scouts: a raiding party was approximately a day's march to the northeast. A Council of War was held, and the Iazygian chief was asked what route the raiders were likely to take, given where they were and where they were probably heading. There was only one likely road, and they would take it, unless they wished to risk getting lost in the forest.

"So," Gaius said, "where would you suggest would be the best place for an ambush?"

At first the Iazygian chief seemed a little surprised that the Romans would opt for an ambush, but he was clearly pleased with the strategy. There were two places, he said, but one was better because it was closer, and gave them more time to prepare. Gaius agreed to the latter site, and suggested they march the following morning. This raised the question, what order would they march. In the end, Gaius pointed out that if they weren't to go together the Iazyges should lead, as only they knew the route. They agreed to set off at first light. With that settled, each party retreated to their own camps.

Gaius had just reached his own tent when Lucius Matius, his Tribunus Laticlavius requested to see him. He was invited in, and Gaius was amused to see the awkward look on his junior's face.

"It looks like you don't think I'm going to like this," Gaius smiled, as he indicated that Lucius should take a seat. "Don't worry. You can speak freely."

"Is this a good idea?" Matius started.

"If you mean, this expedition, I think so," Gaius shrugged. "What is bothering you?"

"It could be trap," Matius said. "They could unite with these raiders, wipe out half the legion, then cross the Danube and. ."

"That is indeed possible," Gaius agreed. "So, how do we defend against it?"

"Well, not go. ."

"Having come this far, that's not an option," Gaius shrugged. "That would virtually force the Iazyges into an alliance with the northern tribes."

"I suppose so," Matius agreed.

"How I intend to fight this ambush," Gaius continued, "is that because we shall be fighting on a slope, the Iazyges will attack from above. If they don't, we shall know there's treachery. If they do, then the northern tribesmen will be facing uphill, and will probably advance just a little. That will let us form a line on the road, so that if anything goes wrong after that, we are in an optimum formation."

"I see," came the disciplined response.

"Don't go," Gaius waved, to stop his Tribune from excusing himself. "Have some wine." He poured a goblet, and handed it to his Tribune. "Now, since you've raised it, what would you do if there is treachery, and the Iazyges unite with the others against us?"

"Fight our way out of it."

"Yes, but how?"

"I suppose it would depend on the terrain. ."

"Assume it is as described," Gaius said. "If it's wildly different, we'll know in advance something's wrong."

"Then we should try to form a line, or a square."

"I want the first to form the smaller squares that we have practised," Gaius said. "Make sure the Centurions keep an eye on what is going on, and don't let big gaps form between squares. If we can trap enemy between squares, those should be able to be eliminated rapidly, while if the enemy don't go in between, then we can rest soldiers."

"Yes, sir."

"Why are we doing this?"

"I suppose, to help these Iazyges, and. ."

"Yes, but why do we care about them?"

There was an embarrassed silence.

"The reason is simple," Gaius said. "If we adopt a totally defensive strategy, sooner or later we lose. What Augustus realized was that if we have friendly but independent tribes adjacent to Rome's domains, they do the fighting. The problem is, why won't the independent tribesmen start wondering why they're doing our fighting, and if they have to fight, why don't they unite with the opposition and raid us, especially since we're more wealthy?"

"Because we're stronger?"

"If you believe that, why are you worried about this expedition?"

There was a further silence.

"The important point is that right now these Iazyges are reasonably likely to fight with us, so if we help them, then we gain more respect. Sure, there's risk of treachery, but we mustn't be forced into inaction just because of that possibility."

"I suppose not."

"There is another reason too, which is why I want you to pay attention. The Roman army is now fairly close to being invincible against barbarians in a fight in open terrain. The same is not true in forests, where we can't form lines."

"I'm sure the men will. ."

"I'm not doubting the men," Gaius smiled, "but don't underestimate the enemy either. No, our problem is, so far we don't know what tactics are optimal for fighting in forests. So, what I want you to do is keep an eye open for what the two enemies are doing. They may not teach us anything, but they might. Now, go and get some sleep."

* * *

The march the following morning was uneventful, and they arrived at the designated site in good time. Gaius was pleased to see that the site was very similar to what had been described. This was reassuring, although it did not entirely rule out the possibility of a double-cross. A scout had already arrived, and he informed the two leaders that the raiders were less than an hour away, and were marching quickly. There were about one and a half thousand of them.

The road passed along a flat part of the side of a hill. Anyone marching on this road could march as much as twelve abreast here, so superficially it was not an ideal site for an ambush. Above the road, a forest of quite massive trees made its way up the gently sloping hill. Below the road, the ground was shrubbier and the land fell away a little more steeply towards a small stream below. Gaius quickly ordered his infantry to hide themselves in formation downhill, and his cavalry to remain as far to the rear as possible, while remaining within the range of the horn. He also sent two centuries of men who had trained well in forest skills to go towards the enemy, to let them pass, and later to cut off any fleeing baggage train. In the event that a horn indicated treachery, they were to make their way home as best they could.

The sun was almost soporific, and for a while Gaius was wondering if the enemy could pass by while the ambushers were asleep, but he need not have worried. The northern tribesmen were not at all well disciplined, and they could be heard from quite some distance. They made a fearful racket as they marched along, full of swagger.

They had almost passed, and Gaius was beginning to wonder about his allies, when a series of yells rent the air, and Iazyges poured down the slope waving axes and yelling insults. The northern tribesmen turned to meet them, and as expected, moved towards them. Gaius gave the arm signal for a silent advance.

The Romans came forward and managed to form a line on the edge of the road without the enemy knowing they were there. Meanwhile, the Iazyges were finding the battle somewhat difficult. Superficially, the Iazyges were outnumbered, and the northerners were seemingly better fighters. The leading Roman line crossed towards the rear of the northerners, and it was only when the Romans were almost upon the northerners that they realized their problem. Fighting with large weapons with their back turned to the heavily armoured Romans left them with almost no chance. The shield wall crashed into them, and they had nowhere to go, and insufficient room to turn.

The battle was surprisingly brief but exceedingly bloody, and only a few of the northerners could even manage to flee. A huge pile of weapons were gathered and were then loaded onto the carts that carried a large amount of what was presumed to have been loot from previous raids.

As Gaius was to remark to Lucius Matius later, the slaughter of so many barbarians so quickly would ensure the loyalty of this client tribe for some time. Generosity also helped: Gaius said that the tribute for this year could be waived.

The parties then marched back to the village, where the villagers were amazed to see the volume of loot, which was all laid out on a bare area.

"We share half each," Gaius said to the chief. In response to the pleasantly surprised look on the Chief's face, he added, "We were allies, and your charge, and the noise you made were critical to the easier success."

The chief was pleased, and the next hour was spent sorting and selecting. Following that, the chief invited Gaius and the senior officers for a meal. Large fires were formed, and quite large amounts of venison were being roasted. Gaius provided wine, the Iazyges provided ale and mead. At the end of the meal, when much laughing and singing was underway, and when some of the Romans were eying the possibilities of some available women, the chief indicated that he wished to have a more private conversation with Gaius.

"The horses your cavalry are using are not very good horses," he pointed out.

"You have better ones?" Gaius asked encouragingly. He sensed what was coming, and it was important that the chief felt free to make his proposal.

"We have much better horses, and I know how to get more, but of course. ."

"You wish to be paid," Gaius nodded. "Of course you will be paid, if we think they're good enough to buy."

"Yes, but some Romans don't. They take, and then challenge. ."

"There's a simple answer to that," Gaius nodded. "I'll set up a trading post. You sell whatever you want there, and you'll be paid immediately. Of course, I'll have to on-sell it, so I'll take a commission, but you will know your payments are secure, and if you don't like the price, you don't have to sell."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'll make some money out of it as well. And also, we'll put one of your son's into the business, to teach him the art of trading with Rome. He can look after your interests, and help me a bit too. What do you say? Drink on it?"

They drank on it. As Gaius noted, the fact that he would make a little on each transaction eased the Chief's mind; a deal in which the other party also made something was much easier to understand than one that did not.

* * *

The return to Lussonium was uneventful, and when Gaius reviewed the exercise, he had to admit that while it had been spectacularly successful, he had learned surprisingly little about forest battle tactics. The value of an ambush was well known, and the brutal efficiency of the killing had been achieved on the road, the one piece of non-forested land available, while the enemy had their backs to the Romans.

The captured weapons were also less informative. The large axes were valuable, if for no other reason that they could also be used for cutting down trees, and he already knew the swords would be longer than the gladius.

The drills would continue; they kept the soldiers in form, and they ensured the local population knew there was a fighting force available. However, Gaius remained less than satisfied; he had learned little during that raid, and he felt confident that in further drills, his men would simply continue to do what they were familiar with and that would merely reinforce what everyone thought was right. They were not learning anything new, and the problem of how to fight most effectively in forests remained.

He sent a letter to Claudius, outlining what had happened to the expeditionary force, how the allies had fought, then the size and amount of the loot he had gathered. Items such as axes would be retained and sold locally, but the items made of precious metal were to be despatched to Rome immediately. When he had finished arranging the transport, he realized that he had been a Legate for nearly a year. Soon it would be time once again to return to Burnum. He remembered the tension of the previous year, and smiled as he realized that Valerius Messala no longer felt the need to get so far from Rome.

Chapter 15

"You're not going to like this," Timothy said.

"I guess not," Gaius shook his head. "What is it that I'm not going to like?"

"Your cylinder," Timothy explained. "You want a piston to go up and down, and be pushed by steam?"

"So?"

"The cylinder has to be even," Timothy said. "I can cast a cylinder, but it is very difficult to get the inner surface all exactly the same diameter, and it's too big to put on a lathe."

"I see," Gaius said. He thought for a moment, then said, "But you could put something the size of a piston on a lathe?"

"Maybe," came the doubtful and somewhat unenthusiastic response.

"This cylinder? It is cast from bronze?"

"Yes. Maybe one day you might want iron, but bronze will be good enough to see if it works."

"Then try to get it as round as you can with the casting," Gaius said, "then you could put something on a lathe the size of the piston and put something very abrasive around it and wear down the cylinder evenly?"

"And what's this, 'something very abrasive' going to be?"

"The most abrasive stone you can find." Gaius paused, then added, "It also has to be fine-grained, so that it wears the bronze down, not scratches cavities."

"I suppose I could try, but I'm sure the result won't be perfect, in which case the steam will leak and won't push the piston," Timothy warned.

"Then try to get the best you can. Same with the piston. Get rings on the piston like we agreed, grind the rings to fit, and if it doesn't fit well, maybe try a bit of leather around the rings."

"That may not last very long," Timothy warned.

"No, it mightn't, but it might last long enough to see if it works. We might need to have some sort of oil drop onto the leather or the rings, we'll have to wait and see. If you can make the cylinder's errors only in whether it is round, as opposed to lumpy, you might be able to use the stone to grind down parts of the rings so that it fits the cylinder. I am afraid we just have to try something."

"It'll still leak," Timothy said doubtfully.

"It may well," Gaius shrugged, "but it depends on how badly. If it works while it is leaking a little, does it matter?"

"It would be better if it didn't," Timothy grouched.

"Yes, it would." Gaius paused, then added, "Timothy, if you don't want to do this. ."

"I'll do it," Timothy interrupted, but without any enthusiasm.

Yes, Gaius thought to himself, because if he did not, he would have to earn his living some other way. Still, he had to try to give Timothy a little more confidence. "I'm sure you'll manage something sooner or later, and remember, you can get all the help you need. As for the longer term future, if it works but has flaws, remember that one of the problems we have now is we can't turn anything on a lathe that is very big because we can't power the lathe. If we can get a small engine to work it might power a bigger lathe, which would make all this easier. I don't know how to do it, but let's try something."

Gaius watched Timothy saunter off. Timothy was obviously getting tired of this engine that was still more an abstraction than a tangible thing. This cylinder was proving to be quite a problem, and he rather fancied that the piston would prove to be an equal one. The good news was that Timothy had in principle worked out a way to fit a ring onto the piston by sweating it on, which meant that the engineering there did not need to be so accurate, and as he had pointed out to Timothy, the cylinder would probably wear the ring into a desirable shape. One thing he knew was that this would leak some steam, but if he could make it big enough to do something that could be useful, and if it worked for long enough for the principle to be established, then it would be merely a matter of improving it. As yet, it was unclear whether this would work at all. However, at least it was giving him something to do over the winter.

He longed to be back in Rome, with Vipsania, but the practicalities were that he could not go. He was an army commander, and he had to be with his legion. Then there was the small matter of the prophecy: he was not to return to Rome until it was in ruins. That was simply impossible; Rome could not fall into ruins in his lifetime.

As the winter deepened, very little happened at Burnum. The possible size of his engine was becoming smaller, simply because there was a limit to how big a cylinder could be ground with the available lathes. A smith suggested that he was going about it the wrong way, and it might be better to get the piston round, and use that to make the mould to cast the cylinder. Gaius shrugged, handed over yet more sesterces, and told him to get on with it. This was not an extreme problem; if the machine worked, something bigger could easily be made. If nothing else, a small engine could power whatever was required to make bigger cylinders.

The legion did little in the cold. Gaius did request occasional winter drills, for ultimately it might be required to fight in the winter, but he was only too well aware that the available clothing was not really adequate. It would be one thing to lose soldiers to valiant enemy, and another to have them die of cold and exposure. Perhaps someone should work on better boots and better clothing, but that was something to work on some other time.

* * *

The feast of the Saturnalia was a family affair, and by definition, soldiers in the field do not have families. That, however, was no reason not to feast. Gaius decided that this year he would invite the Legate of the seventh, and the Tribunes of both legions to a joint feast, which left the question of where to have it. The official camp was one option, but Gaius realized that he was still renting the villa where the Valerii had been living the previous year. That would be a better place; to start with, it was not a military camp, and the facilities would be very suitable. He was about to write the formal invitations when the thought struck him that he should check to make certain the condition was still suitable. A ride in the snow would be as good a way as any of filling in the morning, so he grabbed his cloak.

The sun was bright, the air crisp, and all seemed well with the world. Truly a day to lift the spirits, to. . It was as he turned off onto the track towards his villa his goodwill began to subside for instead of good clean crisp snow there were clear signs of heavy horse traffic. This track did not go anywhere else, so who had been up here? As he approached the villa, he could see smoke coming from the chimney. Someone was using his villa. He rode up towards the front door, dismounted, secured his horse, and looked around. There were wheel-marks going around to the back of the villa, and he assumed any horses would be there as well. He checked his gladius, then strode to the door. He put his key in the lock, but then found it was open.

He strode in and quietly closed the door, then began walking through the villa. He could hear sounds from the kitchen area, so he crept there and flung open the door. Two men, who he recognized from the previous year as Valerius Messala's slaves were cleaning the floor. One of them looked up and cheerfully waved at him.

Gaius thought for a moment, then asked, "Where's your master?"

"They've all gone back to Rome," came the cheerful response. "We're just cleaning up before we go back too."

"They?"

"Yes, there were about half a dozen of them, all the Master's acquaintances. Except for the governor, that is."

"The Governor?"

"Yes, Governor Scribonianus was here too. There was some sort of a meeting. Didn't you know?"

"As it happens, no," Gaius replied.

"I'm sorry. . I. ."

"It's not your fault," Gaius said. "What are your instructions now?"

"To clean up, and take the next ship back to Italy. The steward is just going to arrange it."

"Then perhaps I should have a word with him," Gaius nodded. "Where is he?"

"He just went out the back door. You should be able to catch him."

Gaius nodded, and went quickly to back door. This situation was puzzling. Why had Messala and a number of other Romans come all this way? The obvious answer was that they wanted to see Governor Scribonianus, but what for? And why in this villa? Why not at the Governor's villa? If they wanted to entertain the Governor, why not in Burnum itself? It was possible that there was nowhere better that was available, and it was possible that when the meeting was arranged, this was the one place Messala could count on, but. . Could he count on it? He had no idea whether Gaius was still renting it. It appeared that he had just assumed that would be the case, probably on no better grounds than Vipsania had not been told of any change.

But if he was relying on Vipsania, why hadn't he brought her with him? Had he done so, that would at least guarantee access. And more to the point, why hadn't Messala asked him if he could have the villa? He would always have said yes, although he might have added that Vipsania should come. Did he want to keep Vipsania away from him? If so, why?

Perhaps he wanted the villa because it was out of the way, but why did he need to be out of the way? The only reason would appear to be because they did not want anyone to know they were there. So, what was the secret? Then there was the question of why Messala did not wish to see his son in law? He had not even brought a message from Vipsania!

He soon found the steward about to mount a horse, so Gaius suggested they ride together to Burnum. The conversation was rather stilted, and the steward claimed that he had no idea why Messala had come. That could be true, Gaius realized. If Messala did not even wish to let his daughter's husband know why he was there, it would not be overly surprising if he also kept the information from his steward, who might well talk over wine when he was left behind.

They arrived at the port just as the ship to Italy was leaving, and the next one would not arrive until four days after the Saturnalia. On hearing this, Gaius turned to the steward, and asked what arrangement had Messala made for the rental. The steward was stunned, then a little horrified. As Gaius suspected, Messala had left his staff with little money.

"You have cooks with you?" Gaius asked. On hearing that he had, Gaius then added, "We can forget about the rent if you people will cook and clean for a little party I am throwing on the Saturnalia. There'll be plenty of food for you, and you can't leave for another few days anyway."

The steward was only too happy to agree.

* * *

Once again Gaius sent a cartload of venison to the villa, but this time he did not deliver it in person. This time, the celebrations did not include the great god Saturn, there was no lord of misrule, and everybody retained their usual status. However, the servants and slaves were very well fed, and as long as they stayed sober for the day, wine was available for them.

The Tribunes from the two legions mixed well, and the two legates knew that their performances would be compared. Accordingly, they made sure they approached groups of Tribunes openly, in full view, and reasonably noisily.

Eventually, the two decided to sit down together with some wine.

"To a successful new year!" Gaius proposed.

"To a successful new year!" came a rather limp response.

"You don't look very enthusiastic?"

"I'd be more enthusiastic if I knew what was going to happen."

"Wouldn't we all."

"Don't you?"

"Don't I what?" a slightly bemused Gaius asked.

"Know what the big move is planned for next year?"

"I didn't even know anything was planned for next year, let alone what," Gaius replied. "What makes you think I do?"

Cinna looked a little suspiciously at him, then shrugged and said, "Governor Scribonianus has ordered the seventh to be on full operational alert for May next year, only he hasn't offered a clue as to what and to where we're supposed to march."

"Well," Gaius smiled, "it looks like glory for the seventh, because I haven't heard a thing. As far as I know, it's back to Lussonium over the summer for us."

"I thought you were better connected," Cinna offered. "After all, you do get these personal letter from the Princeps."

"I've known Claudius from a way back," Gaius explained, "but I assure you, he's given me no information about your legion. All I know is that he's determined to do something about Mauretania in the coming year, but if the seventh were to be involved there, I would have expected you'd be marching now."

Cinna looked at Gaius with a touch of suspicion, then continued, "Governor Scribonianus apparently brought a delegation from Rome to this villa recently, and you seem to. ."

"Not exactly," Gaius interrupted. "Yes, there seems to have been a meeting here, but Scribonianus didn't invite the others here, or if he did, he had no right to. Me, I had no idea anyone was here."

"You didn't organize it?"

"I had no idea there was a meeting here until I came out to see if the place was fit for this Saturnalia party. All I know about the meeting was from the slaves left behind to clean up, and they know nothing about what was said, or at least that's what they tell me."

"That's odd," Cinna frowned.

"It's more than odd. It's annoying. As far as this villa's concerned, I rented it last year for my wife's family, and when I went campaigning, they went to Rome and I kept it on, just I case my wife wanted to come back over the winter, but as you can see, she didn't. As far as I'm concerned, this villa was supposed to be empty, but it appears that my wife's father must have invited Scribonianus and the others here, and I haven't a clue what for."

"And they didn't tell you anything?" Cinna was clearly surprised.

"No, and I'm a bit pissed off with that. He used my villa then shot back to Rome without saying a word and never even told me he was here."

"Then what's going on?"

"I don't even know anything is," Gaius replied, "and I rather doubt there is a major military venture about to be undertaken. One legion isn't enough for anything but a minor expedition, so my guess is the governor has some exercise in store for you."

"But not for you?"

"Probably not, because strictly speaking my operational areas are in the north, and then I'm controlled by Governor Plautius from Pannonia."

"I suppose that makes sense, but all the same, Scribonianus really made it sound important. It must be more than a minor exercise."

"Well, I haven't heard a word of anything, but if I do, I promise I'll let you know."

"Thanks, and if I hear anything, I'll let you know. After all," he grinned for the first time, "we are on the same side."

"We are indeed! Here, more wine, and Io Saturnalia!"

"Indeed, Io Saturnalia! Only I hope there's no Lord of Misrule over the coming season."

"So do I!" Gaius said as he poured the wine.

* * *

It was the third day of January when the boat arrived, which meant Messala's staff could leave for Italy and Gaius received mail from both Claudius and Vipsania. The letter from Claudius was full of enthusiasm for his baby boy, much less enthusiastic about the support he was receiving from the senatorial class in Rome, but he said nothing about any military exercise, other than that relating to Mauretania, and the necessary legions for that were already in North Africa. He would take this letter and show it to Cinna, and that would hopefully put his mind at ease.

The letters from Vipsania were encouraging, at least as far as his property was concerned. Production was good, particularly with pork, and the trading ventures were generating record profit. Claudius was treating them very favourably. She had also met Valeria Messalina, although Gaius was surprised to see that Vipsania's comments were strangely guarded. Reading between the lines, Gaius concluded that she believed Messalina was very interested in increasing her own power, and was not simply supporting Claudius. Gaius wondered about this, but then decided that without any evidence, there was absolutely nothing he should do. Claudius seemed to be very happy with his family, and he felt confident that Claudius would see through most of Messalina's schemes. Further, there was no reason to believe such schemes, if they existed, would not favour Claudius anyway. What mother would not want the best for her children?

Chapter 16

"I thought we had an agreement," a clearly annoyed Cinna replied to Gaius' enquiry as to what was wrong. Cinna had attempted to burst into his tent, and was stopped by a clearly concerned soldier. Stopping a Legate was a bad idea, but not obeying your own Legate's orders was a worse one.

"And why do you think we don't?" Gaius responded.

"I have been ordered by Governor Scribonianus to prepare to march, and to follow you," Cinna replied. "That seems to imply you know where to, and why."

"As far as I'm aware, now that spring is almost here, I'm off to Lussonium in a couple of weeks to carry out the standard summer exercises and border controls," a startled Gaius replied. "No disrespect, but I don't quite see why another legion is needed for some fairly ordinary exercises."

"What?"

"I think you heard."

"Sorry, yes, I did. It just doesn't make sense. What did Scribonianus say to you?"

"Nothing," Gaius shrugged. "I haven't seen him for months, not that that's surprising because as I've pointed out before, Lussonium technically comes under Governor Plautius' control. We mainly come here because it's an easier place to winter over."

"That doesn't make sense," Cinna muttered. "Do you think we're going to invade over the river?"

"We've got an ally on the other side, and Claudius has approved the relationship," Gaius replied. "I really doubt it, and I can't see that a major operation would be launched suddenly without telling us, because there're logistics to organize."

"Then what?"

"We stand by our agreement," Gaius said. "If we hear anything, we send messages to the other. In the meantime, we continue as if nothing had happened."

It was obvious to both of them that this was unsatisfactory, but there was little else either could do, so they parted, each a little suspicious of the other.

* * *

Two days later, Gaius received a message: Valerius Messala was back at the villa, and he had brought Vipsania. Gaius' spirits rose immediately, but then he became concerned at the rest of the message. Messala and some others wanted to discuss something with him before he went to see Vipsania. Could Gaius come at once to the wine shop and share a wine? Although posed as a question, there was no real mechanism to send a message back declining. With a somewhat irritated feeling, Gaius reached for his cloak. Yes, he would have to see Messala first, or have a family row that he did not need.

Messala was sitting with several others at a table as far away from the wine-shop as it was possible to get, while still being at their tables. Obviously this idiot had something to say that he wanted to keep secret, because there was no other reason to sit outside in the chill wind. There were several others present, and there was one spare seat, opposite Messala. Gaius nodded, drew his cloak closer to keep the cool northerly at bay, and sat down. There was no attempt at introductions, however Gaius recognized three Senators. The two on either side of him appeared to be more like soldiers than politicians. Two more men who also appeared to be, or had recently been soldiers were standing near the path back to the legion.

"So," Gaius said as he raised his cup of wine, "what is so important to keep me away from Vipsania?"

"You know Governor Scribonianus?"

Gaius' heart sank. This meeting was political, and his being here right now had the makings of being a really bad idea. "Yes."

"What do you think of him?"

"I've only met him a couple of times," Gaius replied cautiously. "From what I gather from his reputation, he's a good administrator, and a fairly firm disciplinarian."

"The local citizens like him, and he gets thing done, wouldn't you agree?"

"I've no reason to dispute that," Gaius said cautiously. It was then that he realized that he was sitting on a bench, and the men on either side of him were at ends. If he decided to get up and run, they would be able to get up much more quickly. In effect, he was trapped.

"You probably don't realize this," a Senator said, "but over the last few years, Rome has been very chaotic, and we badly need to get things done, with a firm hand on the tiller."

"Exactly where is this going?" Gaius asked, although he was beginning to have a fairly clear idea. This had all the makings of a conspiracy to seize power in Rome. That would mean betraying the one person who had stood up for him over the last few years, and there was nothing these men could offer to make that worthwhile. The problem now was, how could he get out of this situation? Of immediate concern was that, because of the chilly wind, there was nobody else sitting outside. Assuming this was a conspiracy, these fools needed his legion, but if they couldn't get his legion they needed him dead. His problem was simple: how to stay alive long enough to escape?

"Claudius is little better than a stuttering fool," another of the Senators said. "If Rome is left in his hands, we'll be the laughing stock of the world. Barbarians will see Rome as going mad, or soft, or silly, or whatever. We need someone to show the Germans, and the Dacians, and the Parthians that raids will be met with a strong response. We need. ."

"And you think the legions can't provide that strength without Scribonianus?" Gaius asked. He was trying to give the impression that he was uncertain about this option, but he was thinking about it.

"Exactly!" Messala said firmly.

"I see," Gaius said very slowly, as if he was in deep thought. He was, but he was not thinking about supporting Scribonianus. "And what does Vipsania think about this?" he asked cautiously.

"Who cares!" Messala snorted. "She's just a woman. She'll do whatever you ask."

"I see," Gaius nodded, as he struggled to hide his jubilation. At least it looked as if she was not party to this plot. Now he needed information. "So what does Scribonianus plan to do?"

"He is making his announcement very soon," a senator said.

"And he needs the support of these legions?"

"Exactly!"

'What a fool,' Gaius thought. If he needed legions, he should have guaranteed their support before he set out on this scheme. "And the Republic?"

"The idea is we restore the Republic," the Senator nodded. "Scribonianus will be Consul for the first year."

"And what does everybody else get out of this?" Gaius asked cautiously. It must be obvious to the others by now that he was not exactly over-enthusiastic about a conspiracy, so he needed to show he was contemplating a deal. These fools should understand the motivation for wanting to get loot or position.

"Oh, don't worry about that," a Senator smiled. "That's all taken care of. There'll be plenty of rewards for those who restore the Republic."

"I see," Gaius offered. It occurred to him that what he needed to do right now was to at least look as if he was persuadable. "I've spoken to Cinna, and it appears Scribonianus has ordered Cinna to follow me, so that gives us two legions. ." He had been careful to insert "us" into that sentence. "The question is, is that enough? What about the German legions? If they all sided with Claudius, we would have another civil war, and we don't need that, and worse still, we would be grossly outnumbered."

"There's no particular love for the Principate from those Legates," Messala said. "Little Boots poisoned that well."

'What Gaius Caesar did was show up the lack of discipline in the German legions,' Gaius thought, 'but there is no use pointing this out!' Instead, Gaius said carefully, "So you propose?"

"Your legion and the seventh must be prepared to march at once," Messala said. "A clear declaration of force, and Claudius will go. The praetorians won't be prepared to fight two legions on his behalf."

"No, but the ambitious amongst the German legions might be prepared to move against Scribonianus."

"They might think twice about moving against you, though," one of the Senators said.

"Your confidence is flattering, but I'm not sure that it's deserved."

"Oh yes it is." Messala said. "Look at your combat decorations. You defeated Parthians with the odds nine to one against. That same reputation will keep the German legions at bay, especially since the Eastern legions would support you."

Gaius was stunned. It was possible that that reputation, together with the friendship he had made with Cinna might persuade the seventh to follow, but he was more sceptical about the German legions, particularly given the egos he knew were there.

"So, can we count on you?" one of the senators asked.

Gaius realized that he had got about as far as he could with this discussion. The problem was, they had told him enough that they could hardly let him get up and walk away, because once he was back with his legion, anything was possible. He had to persuade them that he was at least amenable, and there was one more thing to try: ask for something. "This is one of those things where you have to be all in," Gaius said softly. "It really is a case of death or glory, so, if we suppose this works, let's define the glory."

"What do you mean?" Messala asked.

"I would need a Governorship in the east, and a guaranteed seat in the Senate," Gaius replied. When he saw the stunned looks, he added, "If I don't get the promises now, I'm hardly likely to later, am I?"

"Of course," Messala said, "but only Scribonianus can authorize those things."

"Then I await his response," Gaius nodded towards Messala, and began to get up.

"That's going to take time," Messala said, "and by now you will appreciate that we can't just let you wander off. Until you commit to our cause, we have to assume you could be against us. You'll have to come with us."

The men on either side were already on their feet, and Gaius could feel the points of daggers against his sides.

"You can take your hands off me," Gaius said coldly. "I'm unarmed, and you obviously are not."

"Then follow us," the senator said, "and don't make a fuss."

Gaius nodded, and got to his feet. Any attempt he made to get away had to succeed, because such an attempt would show he was against them. If he did get away, they would be dead men, so they would have no hesitation in killing him. Could he outrun them? Quite possibly, but he was surrounded by them, and it was difficult to see how he could fight his way out of the group before someone could stick a knife in his side.

The wine-shop had been on the outside of the village, and they were now walking along a track through bush, towards a small farm, which, because it was deserted, had been used several times by the legions for exercises. Accordingly, Gaius knew the farmhouse was in reasonable condition. They entered the house, and made their way towards the doorway to the cellar. The door was opened, and one of the Senators offered him a lamp, some papyrus, some ink, a writing implement, and a jar of wine.

"We'll be back in two hours," he said. "By then you should have written orders that are signed that unambiguously commit yourself to our cause. You have to do more than simply say you will get your legion to march, because once you got back to them, you could do anything. You have to be in a position where, if we don't succeed, you'll be found guilty of treason."

"And if I don't join you, you'll kill me?"

"No choice," Messala shrugged.

"You'd kill your daughter's husband? What will she think?"

"It's not all bad," Messala shrugged. "We can make out it's an accident, and after all, she'll inherit your estate. She'll be very very rich."

'And you think you will too,' Gaius thought to himself, as he laid the lamp down on a large box. "I'll have something in two hours," he said, "and I promise to honour whatever it is." He then watched the other climb the steps and go out of the cellar, then he heard the door close behind him, followed by a click as the latch was fixed shut from the other side.

Gaius looked around the cellar. There were two bales of straw, and some loose straw in the southwest corner, which was opposite and to the right of the stairs he had climbed down. Apart from that, the cellar seemed empty. Midway along the wall to his left, the eastern wall, there was a trapdoor that led outside, but that would presumably be bolted shut from the outside. Along the western wall there was some substantial shelving, but there was nothing stored there now. There was a space between the top of the shelves and the floor above, and it was not possible to see what was there from the floor.

Gaius sat down on a bale then he put the jar of wine beside him. The last thing he needed now was to dull his reflexes, and it would not have surprised him if there was some sort of potion in it, allegedly to make him more agreeable. He might have to find somewhere to pour much of that out, without leaving a clear trace. Possibly under the straw, but that could be left until later, just in case it had some use.

Could he deceive them, persuade them he was with them? After all, if they wished him to march the legion, he had to get back to it. Once there. . The problem was, they could see that as clearly as he could, and they must have some plan to get around it. Did they have a good plan? They had already asked him to leave written orders for the legion to march to, say, Northern Italy, while he rode to somewhere like Pannonia to persuade Governor Plautius to do something. Not that they could let him ride to Plautius. . unless he was in the plot as well. But they would not need him to ride. He merely had to present appropriate written orders. Then the legions would march, and at some time later he would send more written orders telling them to march on Rome and. .

Probably written orders would fail at this point, but that might be irrelevant. They would be gambling that with the legions on the march the praetorians would see sense and get rid of Claudius. At that point, they would succeed, and unless he had cooperated, he would be disposed of. Assuming they had planned that far ahead!

As a last resort, trying to deceive them might work, but it was more likely to lead to Claudius' overthrow, in which case the deception would be pointless. He might as well join them right now, and that was exactly what he did not intend to do. That meant he had to get out of this cellar, and clearly his first attempt had to work because they would not let him live long enough for there to be a second attempt.

So, how was he going to get out? There were only two ways: the trapdoor and the door. They would probably think the trapdoor was impossible, but if he could get it open he could leap up and he was strong enough to lift himself up and climb out. Before that, though, he should search his cellar more carefully, to see if he had any assets.

He moved the straw bales to see whether there was anything under them, but as he expected there was not. Leaving something there was too obvious. However, the loose straw looked as if it had been left there for a long time, so he ran his hands through it and found a moderate-sized length of timber. When he pulled it out he saw that it had been part of something that had broken under strain, and at one end it finished as a longish splinter. For the first use at least, this might be quite a useful spear, albeit a bit clumsy to wield.

He now made a much closer examination of the shelving, but found nothing of use. However, when he climbed the shelving, he realized he could lie on the top of it, against the wall, and be unseen from below if he kept well back. He pulled himself up, to be sure that the shelving was strong enough. It was.

He now examined the trapdoor. It was held closed by a latch, but the door did not fit very well, and it would be possible with the piece of wood to slip the sharp splinter up and slide the latch across, thus opening the door. Very careless of them to leave him a means of escape!

Or was it? If they wanted to know which side he was on, why wouldn't they leave him a way of escape? Provided they knew when he tried, they could then catch him and kill him. Now, if that were their plan, there would be some form of alarm that would be set off by opening the door. There would be no way he could run faster than men on horseback, and they would presumably watch the horses. And even if he did have this spear, he could never survive against soldiers on horseback with lances and swords.

Simply climbing out the trapdoor would not work, unless they were very very careless, which raised an interesting question: how would they know they had not forgotten something? If he had appeared to escape, what would they do when they could not catch him? They would have to get enough distance between them and the cavalry that they would have a chance, so once they decided he had escaped, they would make their escape as quickly as possible. Perhaps his best chance was to appear to have escaped.

He moved the two straw bales under the trapdoor, and carefully pushed the splinter into the gap beside the latch and began pushing. With a little effort the latch slipped, and in principle, the door could be opened. He now stood the bales end-on and made an impression in them, then after emptying the wine-jar he forced it into the straw, and made it lie such that it looked as if it had been pushed over, but it had not quite fallen. He now blew out the flame and now in the near dark, he lowered the lamp onto the bale and placed it against the wine jar so that it looked as if the lamp was supposed to fall over, but one side of the jar supported it. The impression he hoped to give was that he had climbed out and tried to knock over the jar on which the lamp was balanced in the hope of starting a fire, but it had not worked.

He now took his piece of timber and pushed up on the trapdoor. He got it about halfway open when he felt resistance. When he pushed it further, there was a crashing noise. He left it open, and with his piece of timber he vaulted to the top of the shelving and tucked himself in against the wall.

He heard men running, and the sound of at least two horses.

"Well, we know which side he's on!"

"Where'd he go?"

"Presumably he made it to the woods."

"But how did he get that far so fast?"

"Maybe he slipped around the other side of the farmhouse. He might have been smart enough to know he couldn't cover that much ground after all that noise."

"How'd he know which way we were coming?" Messala's voice.

"He had a choice of two ways," came the scathing voice of one of the soldiers. "He got lucky, and he's going to get luckier still if we don't get after him."

"What's down there?"

"Who cares?" Gaius smiled at this. That was the attitude he wanted to hear.

"It looks like he's tried to start a fire when he left," the other soldier said. "I'll go down and check it out. A lot of smoke right now will bring more soldiers than we need."

That, Gaius thought to himself, was not what he had planned. There was no sign of flame, so how could there be a fire? Another plan that had not worked out, thanks to not making allowance for the stupidity of that soldier.

"Right, spread out and move!"

There was the sound of retreating footsteps, two horses setting off, then silence.

More silence.

Then the sound of the door being opened. One pair of footsteps. Gaius carefully wriggled as silently as he could to get a view. Fortunately, they had forgotten to close the trapdoor, so there was enough light to see with. The head was moving towards the straw. Gaius grasped the timber firmly, wriggled slightly, rolled towards the edge with his feet firmly against the wall, then he uncoiled, thus propelling himself across the space. The soldier turned, to see the splintered end coming directly at him. He tried to evade, but Gaius corrected and drove the wood into his neck. There was a gurgling sound as the soldier fell downwards, followed by a thump as Gaius hit the floor.

Gaius pulled himself to his feet and kicked over the soldier. Blood was oozing from his mouth, and was pouring from his neck. His eyes were furious, but he seemed to be incapable of much movement. His right hand had held a gladius, but that was now lying a foot away from his hand and he seemed incapable of reaching it. Gaius picked it up and put the soldier out of his misery.

Everything might not have worked out exactly as planned, he thought to himself, but perhaps it had turned out better than he could have hoped for. He now had a gladius, one of the soldiers was dead, the other soldiers were out looking for him, and the senators were no threat at all. He paused and listened. Silence. There seemed to have been no back-up for this soldier. Even so, he should be careful.

He then crept up the stairs, as silently as possible, but paused when, near the top, he heard a creak. He heard nothing, and could see nothing through the open trapdoor. He brought his head as close to the door as he could, and could see no sign of anyone. He leaped through the trapdoor, and when all was clear in front of him, he quickly dived to one side and turned. All was still clear, the hallway to the front door empty.

He could hear voices some distance away. He knew that there were two rooms to the north, the far one being accessed through one in between. The conversation continued, but there was no other sound. He entered the first room, and found it empty. As he crossed it, he was clearly getting closer to the conversation, and was vaguely amused to hear they were discussing him, or more specifically his escape, and what they were going to do. He put his hand on the door, but decided to wait and listen to what they thought they had in store for him.

"He'll be caught." The voice of Messala, and, Gaius noted wryly, it did not exude confidence.

"Except they should have caught him by now, and it seems they haven't. What'll we do?"

"Wait!" Messala's voice was highly strained.

"It'll be dark in an hour or so," the other voice said. "Then, either we use a road or we'll be stuck in the forest. If we use the road, the cavalry will catch us in no time. There's only one horse here, and. ."

"Then if you want to run, take it," Messala scowled, "but remember this. If we win, you'll have to keep running, and if he wins, you'll still have to keep running. So if you ever want to see your property again. ."

"You think they'll bring him back?" The voice was riddled with doubt.

"He'll be back," Messala said, with a strange mixture of lack of conviction and of bluster.

"You're certainly correct there," Gaius said, as he leaped into the room. "There's one door to this room, and I cover it. It's your turn for the cellar, or the underworld. Take your pick."

"Gaius! Don't be stupid," Messala almost whined. "This is your chance. ."

"To be loyal," Gaius said. "To behave with honour, to keep my promise. You may not understand that, but I assure you that you can reflect on that in the cellar. Move!"

To his surprise, they both acquiesced. This had to be the most pathetic revolt he had ever heard of. As they descended the stairs, Gaius slammed the door shut, and immediately bounded outside to bolt the trapdoor. In principle, they could have climbed up and out through the trapdoor, but true to form, they did nothing of the sort.

A quick search of the rest of the house showed that nobody was there, so Gaius mounted the remaining horse and rode towards the legion's base. There were no more than two men who had seemed to have weapons skills, and they had probably gone in different directions, so he felt confident of outrunning or outfighting one man. In the event he reached his base without further contact with the insurgents.

If nothing else, this would provide a useful exercise for the cavalry. At first they were annoyed to be brought out so close to the evening, but when informed that, although it was an exercise, there were real targets to capture, keen enthusiasm followed. The turma that caught someone would have boasting rights for days, and their stories would almost certainly lead to much free wine.

There were two more things that required immediate attention. He must find out where the seventh stood, and he must find out what his future with Vipsania held. He would leave the worst until last.

* * *

When he was within sight of the seventh, he requested his escort to remain outside the camp. There was an element of risk in meeting with Cinna if he was really involved with Scribonianus, however there was no option but to discuss this issue with him. He felt certain that he knew Cinna, and Cinna had honestly not known where he was supposed to march, let alone why. Nevertheless, he was somewhat nervous as he rode into the camp. He was a little fortunate, however, in that he saw Cinna talking to a Tribune in the open, while seemingly inspecting an exercise in progress.

"This is a surprise," Cinna smiled, as he walked over to Gaius as he was dismounting. He ordered a soldier to look after Gaius' horse.

"It may not be a pleasant one," Gaius said. "I've found out where we're supposed to march to."

"Oh yes. Where?"

"Rome."

"What?" Cinna's eyes were pure disbelief, which gave Gaius a feeling of relief.

"Some Senators arrived this morning," Gaius explained. "They informed me that Scribonianus is going to try to overpower the Princeps, and he wants to use our legions."

"That's. ." Cinna started, then seemed to realize this position was more delicate than he had imagined. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to honour my vow to the Princeps," Gaius shrugged. "My eagles go nowhere except to Lussonium, and I hope you will join me."

"Not quite!" Cinna said with a serious tone, then he smiled at Gaius' look of horror and added, "I was ordered by Scribonianus to follow you, but frankly, I don't see the need for me to go to Lussonium too. My eagles stay stuck right here."

"Good!" a relieved Gaius replied.

"The last thing we need now is for legions to fight each other," Cinna added, "but we have to try to stop the German legions following Scribonianus. Any ideas?"

"I'll go and see Plautius," Gaius said. "If Pannonia stands with us, I doubt the German legions will have any faith in Scribonianus."

"If I can help in any way, let me know."

"Thanks," Gaius said. "I think the only thing we can do now is keep each other informed, and don't let a word of this get out until this revolt is stopped."

"What about the Senators? If they. ."

"Two are captured, and my cavalry is out looking for the rest. I don't think they're going anywhere soon."

"Then good luck."

* * *

The words of the prophecy came back to Gaius as he rode up to the villa. There would be two women in his life, and only one of them would be beautiful. That implied that Vipsania, the beautiful one, would be replaced. If she were part of this revolt, he would have to send her back to Claudius, and probably to her execution; he would have no option. He had to know, no matter how much he did not wish one of the answers. Then there was the problem, how would he find out the truth? He could lose her while she was quite innocent. The problem seemed impossible, but he had to face it.

As he opened the door, he saw Vipsania on the far side of the room. She looked up to see who it was, then she ran towards him, arms outstretched. "Gaius! How. ." She stopped about three meters away, as she saw the look on his face, and asked, "Gaius, what's wrong?"

"Vipsania, why did your father come here?"

She looked surprised. "Why?" Then she looked irritated, and said, "Why don't you ask him? I thought he was looking for you?"

"He was, and we met," Gaius replied. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need you to convince me."

"Convince you of what?"

"What your father wants."

Vipsania looked puzzled. "I have no idea what he wants," she said, "except he did say it would be good for us."

"Are you sure you don't know?"

"Yes," she said, now a little angrily. "Why this interrogation?"

"Because your father is involved in a plot to overthrow Claudius," Gaius said flatly.

"What?" she said in surprise. "That's impossible! You must be mistaken." Then the significance of what Gaius had said sank in, and a look of apprehension crossed her face. "You believe, don't you?"

"More than that, I know."

"Then what happens now?"

"The legions here stay put, and Scribonianus is doomed," Gaius replied.

"And me?"

"I need you to swear truthfully you knew nothing about this."

"I knew nothing about this," Vipsania replied, a little defiantly.

"Thank the Gods," Gaius said, and he stepped forward to embrace her. "I really thought that would be the case, but you must believe me that I had to know."

"You didn't trust me?"

"I didn't know what your father told you," Gaius replied. "For all I knew, he could have told you I was on his side, in which case if you trusted me you would be involved."

"What happens to my father now?" Vipsania asked cautiously.

"If he can be made to promise that he will stay out of politics forever, I think Claudius could be persuaded to be lenient, particularly if he isn't openly named by Scribonianus. After all, Claudius' wife is in the same gens, and he won't want to irritate her unnecessarily."

"And the other senators?"

"They'll have to take their chances," Gaius shrugged. "Since one of them tried to kill me to save his own hide, I don't feel I owe him anything."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Go and discuss this with Plautius. We have to make sure this disease is contained."

"And me?"

Gaius paused for a moment, and said hesitantly, "I would really love you to stay, I would really love to spend nights with you, but I also think it is imperative to separate you from your father. If things go wrong for him, I want you to be somewhere else, so I'm going to ask Timothy to escort you back to Rome. There's a ship heading to Classis on the morning tide. I want you to be on it, and when you get back to Rome, if anyone asks where you were, say Ravenna. Take a quick look around Ravenna so you can think of an excuse for having been there, then go to the ranch and stay there for a while."

"You think I'm in danger?"

"Possibly. Not so much from Claudius, but maybe from other plotters. If they think you betrayed them. ."

"Then why don't I stay here?"

"Some of the others might try to link you to the plot. Also, you won't see much of me anyway, and if the German legions are involved in the plot, being near me could be very dangerous."

"If you say so," she said, without any sign of enthusiasm.

"Vipsy, I really love you," he said, and embraced he firmly, "but now I'm going to ask you to trust me on this. A plot is very dangerous and this one isn't over yet."

"I love you too," she said, and kissed him fiercely, then she backed away and said, "About my father. ."

"Yes?"

"I know he's done wrong, and I know he'll have to take what's coming to him, but he is my father. Could you please make a really big effort to save his life?"

"Of course you have to feel for him," Gaius said, "but there's a limit to what I can do. But I promise, I will do what I can for him."

"Thanks," she said, and embraced him again.

* * *

Plautius stared at Gaius, the horror clearly on his face. "But that's terrible!"

"Yes, it is," Gaius agreed, but then he suddenly had a thought. There could be two reasons for his concern: the fact there was a coup, or the fact that the coup had failed. He had to be careful, for Plautius could well have been allied to Scribonianus.

Plautius began wandering around the room, shaking his head, before finally saying, "Something has to be done. "The problem is, what?"

"We honour our oath to the Princeps," Gaius replied. "You must persuade the German legions not to join in."

"I shall see what I can do to persuade them to remain loyal." Plautius paused, then added, as if speaking to nobody, "Irrespective of what we think of Claudius, Rome must not have another civil war."

"I agree," Gaius said firmly.

"The problem now is there're a few very ambitious younger Romans with better military connections who might jump in. Men like Galba, or Vitellius."

"I don't know them," Gaius admitted, "although I do know Vitellius' father. I started my career serving under him when he was Governor of Syria, and as far as I know, he was supportive of me."

"Then pray that Vitellius can convince his son so that the German legions remain loyal," Plautius said, "because if we cannot generate enough quick support, there will be civil war, and Claudius won't win. And if Claudius loses, and you're known to be on his side, your future is rather poor."

Gaius stared at Plautius, and a strange feeling came over him. His future was not necessarily that poor! "Petronius owes Claudius a lot, and the Egyptian legions were rather pissed off at the attitude of the German legions to Little Boots. Provided the Pannonian and Dalmatian legions can hold until next year," he replied coldly, "the eastern legions will wipe the field free of any German force. They're battle-hardened, this Galba's no Julius, and they'll get him to wipe his arse with his nose. Provided Claudius can stay alive, he will stay Princeps. So our job is clear: the Pannonian and Dalmatian legions must stand firm."

Plautius stared at him in surprise, as he could see a fire was burning in the eyes of his new subordinate. The local legions would stand firm, or this young man would bring the eastern legions and he could count on them. One of the last acts of Gaius Caesar was to order Petronius to commit suicide. As it happened, Petronius was in no great hurry to comply, and Claudius' letter, in which he ordered Petronius not to, arrived in time. The east would be loyal to their favourite commander, who was clearly on good terms with this young Claudius and who could hardly fail to be loyal to the new Princeps. And this young man was also a favourite amongst the troops, or so he heard. All Plautius could do was to agree with his young Legate's proposal.

* * *

When Gaius returned to camp, he was updated on the revolt. The two he had locked in the cellar were captured without difficulty, two senators who had escaped on horses were captured and they surrendered meekly. One of the soldiers had been captured but one managed to escape, and since nobody really knew his name, it was likely that he would never be captured. The remaining soldier, when confronted and when escape was not possible, decided to stand and fight, believing death in combat was more honourable than being executed for treason. The cavalry was only too willing to oblige him.

Gaius decided to interview his captives, who were held in makeshift cells built of wooden stakes. The cells were rudimentary, very drafty, and somewhat smelly after a while, but they did their job: they contained the prisoners. He did not expect to learn much, and he was not surprised. They were a sorry bunch, but the revolt was clearly quite amateurish. For some reason they had convinced themselves that because of the family connections, Messala would be able to persuade Gaius to march on Rome and for some reason they expected the seventh would meekly follow. Now, with a trial in front of them, they were truly a sorry bunch.

One of the senators tried to bribe Gaius, offering a bag of gold for a day's start. Gaius stared at him coldly, then said, "You were happy enough to have me put to death, so I am happy enough to leave you to the Princeps' mercy." He then indicated to the guard that he wished to speak to Messala in private. The guard nodded, and walked away, but watched and was ready to return at an instant.

Messala was crouched in the wooden cell with a pitiful look on his face. "Please, Gaius. ."

"Quiet!" Gaius snarled. "You were going to kill me, and quite frankly I'd rather stick a gladius up your arse, but there's Vipsania to consider. What you've done is to poison the water for us. Now there's doubt whether she will truly stand by me, and she must be worrying about what I will do to her. That's your gift to your daughter, and frankly I think. ."

"I'll talk to her and persuade her. ."

"You'll do nothing of the sort. You've done more than enough already."

"Then what about me?"

"I shall send a report to Claudius, and I will ask him to show some mercy for you, and plead with him that I am convinced that Vipsania had nothing to do with this. It would be the honourable thing on your part to fully confess, while exonerating your daughter."

There was a silence from Messala.

"For the Gods' sake, at least do one good thing for your daughter!" Gaius spat.

"All right," came the sullen response.

"I am hoping that Claudius will be lenient, partly for me, and perhaps because you're a distant relation of his wife. I'm sure he wouldn't want adverse things about her doing the rounds of Rome."

"Thank you. I'll see. ."

"You won't ever see me again. That's one of the conditions," Gaius waved him to stop. "My guess is, Claudius will exile you, so you might like to consider where a suitable place would be. If Claudius merely limits you to your estate, then I guess Vipsania can go and see you as she wishes, but if I see you again, I'll rethink that matter of using a gladius. In the meantime, if you have any further light to shed on this revolt, put it in writing, and I shall see that Claudius gets it, with a better recommendation for mercy." With that he turned on his heel and marched off, leaving the guard to give Messala some writing equipment.

Later that day he began making arrangements for the captives to be returned to Rome.

* * *

The task of keeping the Danube legions in camp was easier than anyone suspected. While there was very little direct enthusiasm for Claudius himself, there was even less for Scribonianus, and much less for civil war. The upper Danube legions would stand firm behind their governor, and they would persuade the lower Rhine legions to show the same loyalty to the closest living relative to the divine Augustus.

Thus at the same time that the Governor of Dalmatia made his ponderous attack on the now besieged Claudius, a message was received in the senate that the Danube legions had found their eagles mysteriously fixed to the ground, and this was interpreted as a message from the Gods. The Dalmatian legions were fully supportive of the Princeps. With his own legions against him, the Governor had lost.

Gaius also sent the Princeps two messages. The first was also for any of those close to Claudius to whom he wished to show the letter, and it explained to Claudius the background to the bungled insurrection, as he knew it, and the legions whose support he could count on. The second was personal. He promised Claudius that he could count on the legions for at least a year, but many of the soldiers were a little tired of the antics of Gaius Caesar. The Governor had made one valid point. Claudius had to restore Rome's dignity, and restore order to Rome. It was of prime importance that he did something the following summer to improve the situation. Anything, as long as it did something to improve Rome.

Chapter 17

There was a period in which little happened. The legion marched to Lussonium, and the standard exercises proceeded. There was little news from Rome. Timothy, who had remained under Gaius' instructions, sent a letter informing him that Vipsania was safely back at the ranch, and he had seen to it that everybody in Rome believed she had always been in Ravenna. There were, after all, very few days that were not truthfully accounted for.

There were no public trials. Dome of the senators were offered the choice of voluntary exile with forfeit of property, or trials when, if found guilty, they would be executed. Voluntary exile had its attractions. There were, however, a number of executions.

A letter soon arrived from Vipsania.

My Dearest Gaius,

I miss you very much, particularly since I had so looked forward to being with you. I had thought my appearance would be such a pleasant surprise, but oh how I was disappointed. I swear I had no idea what my father was involved in, and I can only thank you for your kindness. He has now gone into exile, but at least he is still alive.

My return to Rome had its moments. Timothy very kindly ensured our luggage was neatly loaded, and our ship sailed promptly on the tide. I was half asleep, and while I was hungry, I did not feel very much like breakfast. This may have been just as well, because the weather deteriorated, and the ship was tossed around something terribly. I was sick for much of the journey, but fortunately Timothy arranged for me to have a place to rest. Timothy also arranged a place to stay in Ravenna that was clean, but not in the centre, and for a few extra sesterces, we got the promise that the owner would swear we had been there for five nights. The next day we walked around Ravenna, and Timothy made me memorize where some important places were, and what we did on the days we weren't there. Really, Gaius, I think this is overdoing it, but you can be assured that Timothy did his job well. He kept asking me, what did I do on which day, and tried to fool me by saying I had said something different before.

I really think this was a waste of time, because nobody has asked me anything. Who cares what I do?

I have checked the business, and everything remains in order. Your steward is really quite efficient, and there really isn't much for me to do. His records are clear, and I can promise you he is looking after your interests perfectly. The only difficulty I have had is that some of the shipments from Egypt have not been recorded properly. These were organized by Quintus, and I assume he has the records. I shall try to find out.

Timothy stayed for a week, then he left, or he said he did. I was told by someone that they saw him in Rome a week later, but of course it may not have been him at all. I sometimes think people will tell me anything.

My father has been exiled, and I must thank you for your efforts, for I know had it not been for your plea to Claudius, he would almost certainly have been executed. Several others were. I hope you do not mind, but I stayed with him to comfort him for his last few days in Rome. He is really shaken, and he really did not know you were so attached to Claudius. It seems that the wretched Scribonianus had arrogantly assumed that if he ordered you to march on Rome to support him, you would. I think he was too afraid of treachery to get you to agree with this in advance, which was silly. Worse than that, while Scribonianus had promised many to restore the Republic, according to some of the Praetorians, he intended to be Princeps. I have no idea why my father trusted him.

I miss you, but hopefully it will not be too long until we are together again.

Your loving Vipsania

Gaius was amused to see that Timothy's attempts to remain without anyone knowing had failed. Fortunately, Vipsania did not realize that he had asked Timothy to stay, to spy on her. He was not the jealous husband, and in that respect he trusted Vipsania implicitly, but he was not entirely convinced that she would be free of conspiracy. Even if she were innocent, that did not mean that conspirators would not attempt to contact her. It was all so messy.

The news about Quintus irritated him. It would not surprise him if Quintus were cheating him a little. He probably felt that he was not being sufficiently well rewarded for what he was doing, and perhaps he was right, but that did not mean that he was entitled to help himself. Also, it was not as if he had asked Quintus to help: Quintus had taken that task on himself. All the same, if he wanted a bigger reward for carrying out whatever work he wished to specify, all he had to do was ask. On the other hand, whatever the problem was, it may have been nothing more than careless accounting, and he really did not care that much, as long as the ranch overall made a good profit, which it still seemed to be doing.

However, now there was a new problem in that Vipsania had taken an interest in the issue, and that had the potential to lead to conflict, and because of the trouble with her father, he had to support Vipsania, while at the same time not get into an unnecessary conflict with the husband of his sister. This was exactly what he did not need right now.

He would write back and let Vipsania know he completely understood her desire to be with her father for that period, and also encourage her to keep checking on the records. He would also try to get separate clarification from his Steward.

The general inactivity sent Gaius back to his engine. He had even further parts made, and he now had quite a strange collection of odd metal pieces. The problem was, would it work when he put it all together? He had made his designs, and the contraption should work, but. .

At last the first valved cylinder was delivered. Gaius stared at it, not knowing what to believe. It was rather big, and most certainly very clumsy. The cylinder itself had a piston that in principle went up and down, although it seemed a very tight fit. Not that that was a problem. It was the end with the valve, which was to be attached to the cylinder through a flange. The valve had two positions, and these were to be changed by being attached to rods attached to other rods eventually to be attached to a small wheel attached to a flywheel. There was going to be an awful lot of wobble, but the valve did have two positions that opened and shut two paths. The piston did its work because steam pressure was applied through the open valve, and the piston would push the steam out in the other position. .

Would it work? Perhaps, eventually. The problem would most likely be that the flywheel would have to keep everything going when the steam was not pushing. It would have to be fairly heavy, which meant that the steam would have to give a firm push. That meant the steam would have to have a high pressure. The biggest danger was the whole contraption coming apart at the seams. Facing an enemy with a sword was one thing. You could see what was coming, and if you had enough skill you could parry it. If he was better, then you died, and that was how things were meant to be, an incentive to be better. But steam was different. First, nothing, then an explosion, and the most terrible agonizing wounds that eventually went septic and the victim died. Gaius shuddered at the thought. He made a promise to himself; when this machine was started up, he would be at a safe distance.

Thoughts of assembling all his bits had to wait, however, as a message came from Rome:

Gaius Claudius Scaevola.

Greetings!

Thanks to your advice, the legions' loyalty, and I rather suspect your special efforts, I remain Princeps. Like you, your legion, the XIth, requires a name. Inform them that for their special loyalty, I award them the right to be termed Legio XI Claudia pia fidelis. The seventh has been similarly rewarded. Inform them also that I have decided to reward a loyal supporter by appointing him Legatus of the Claudia, and accordingly your command ceases on receipt of these orders.

I take your point on the need for summer action. My attention has been drawn towards Britain. You will recall that Cunobelinus of the Catuvellauni expelled one of his three sons, Adminius, who subsequently surrendered to Gaius Caesar. The Atrebates have now expelled Verica, who has sought refuge with Rome, and it is believed that Caratacus of the Catuvellauni, who has a distinctly anti-Roman outlook, was responsible. It therefore seems that the Catuvellauni are moving to unite Britain and take over those tribes loyal to Rome. As you are aware, it was the divine Augustus' policy to ensure that barbarian tribes on our borders were continually at war with each other, or very strongly allied to Rome. Because of a possible threat to our Lower Rhine and Gallic provinces, and because of trade, particularly in tin and silver, action is required.

I have informed the Senate for the People of Rome that I have decided to invade Britain. Accordingly, I need commanders for the invasion. In return for the loyal support of the legions in your region during my recent problems, I have appointed Aulus Plautius as overall commander of the invasion in my absence. I have chosen him because I also feel he will make, at a later time, a Governor I can trust. At a critical time, I also intend to take the field myself. I have appointed Titus Flavius Vespasianus as Legatus of Legio II Augusta. He has sworn loyalty, and he was particularly efficient at rooting out opponents under Gaius Caesar. I am partly rewarding him, and partly ensuring he is properly occupied. I understand he is also a distant relation of yours through marriage, namely through Lucilla's husband.

I also need commanders with some concept of strategy. Accordingly, you, Gaius Claudius Scaevola, are hereby ordered by the Senate for the People of Rome to make all speed to Novaesium, and thereupon take command of Legio XX, Valeria. Then, you will march to Portus Itius to join with the other legions, and thence under the orders of Plautius, and later under my orders, carry out those actions as required to bring the Britons under the direct control of Rome.

I also recognize that you have been carrying out forest exercises. Since Britain is highly forested, you may wish to take some senior officers. These may be exchanged with those in the Valeria, but you should let me know whom you choose.

At the same time, keep me informed of everything that happens. When I take the field, I shall need every piece of advice I can trust, and the loyalty of every soldier that will give it. Be aware that I need every piece of help you can give me. I shall thank you appropriately for your help in due course.

Tiberius Claudius Drusus,

Princeps.

Gaius stared at this in amazement; it was a further confirmation of the prophecy. Athene had told him he would command the most loyal of legions, and his legion had been named Claudia pia fidelis. That was too strange to be an accidental coincidence, or a lucky guess. That only made sense if Athene had seen the future, which in turn meant. . What? He would succeed with his engine, which would make no difference to anybody except himself?

That was possible, in as much as Hero's engine was nothing better than a toy, but his. . Surely it could be made bigger?

But not in the immediate future. He had clear orders to take command of a legion that would be part of an invasion. Conquest! It was then that he remembered a discussion with Timothy: what right did Rome have to invade other lands? He recalled his own response: whether it was right or wrong, it did no good for a soldier to refuse orders for the invasion would go ahead, with or without him. Then he recalled both Timothy and Rebecca: a soldier had to fight, but it was what he did after the fighting was over that would make the difference. Under his command there would be no rape or pillage, or else. That may not justify the invasion, but it was still better that he was a Legate than somebody else.

There would be plenty of forest fighting in Britain, he realized. He was now very grateful that he was allowed to take some of his best Tribunes and Centurions. Those exercises had not been a waste of time. Lucius Matius might be a little disappointed, because he would have expected his next move would be to advance his career, but he was the most promising Tribune, so he needed him. In any case, if Athene, or whoever she was, had told the truth it may not take Lucius that long to get a legion.

He must call together the men he would take, gauge their reactions, and prepare to move. He must also write and thank Claudius, and give him his timetable. He intended to move very quickly. With a new legion, every day before winter set in would be valuable for carrying out exercises, and he had no intention of wasting a day. The Valeria would get a wake-up call very soon.

Chapter 18

Once again, Gaius thought to himself, he was approaching his new command with a small group of soldiers who were escorting a cart with his belongings. Once again it was fall, the leaves were a striking golden brown in the evening sun, there was a major river nearby, but this time there were no barbarian raiders. They had previously crossed a small river and had followed it downstream on its northwest bank, and now the legionary camp could be seen directly ahead. A little to the left there was a small hill. Gaius rode back towards Timothy, who was driving the cart, and told him to take the cart into the camp, together with the ordinary soldiers. He would take the Tribunes with him, together with the Prime Centurion of the first cohort, and he would go to the top of the hill to view his new command. When he, Timothy, arrived in the camp, he was not to let on that their new commander was on the hill, but rather inform them that he was following some distance behind. Timothy nodded, and set the cart off at a rather slow canter towards the camp to the northeast.

Meanwhile, Gaius' party rode promptly around the back of the hill before making the ascent. They reached the top, then scanned the scene below. The scene was very peaceful in the autumnal sun, which was probably just as well, Gaius thought to himself, for the last thing he needed right now, with an invasion of Britain coming up, was a war with the Germans. To the northeast, the camp looked very secure as it was situated on a terrace that was highly suitable for defensive purposes, and just to the south of it, the small river he had been following provided a natural defence as it joined the Rhine. The camp looked orderly enough, but there were no signs of squads exercising or returning from exercise. There was no sign of a squad undergoing fatigues, and while this might mean the discipline was perfect, more likely it meant that discipline was not being imposed very rigorously. That would change!

The scene away from the camp was a little more encouraging. There was plenty of flat and open land to the west of the camp that would be good for exercises. Further away, there was forest to the south and west, which again would be good for exercises, and it contained a good supply of timber necessary for constructing bridges and defensive palisades. The small river he had been following would provide some value for exercises involving river crossings and bridge building, although that might be more limited because it was a small river. On the other hand, he should not use the Rhine, which in any case was somewhat bigger, as he understood it, than any river he was likely to have to cross in Britain.

Yes, overall the site was not entirely ideal for what he had in mind, but it was certainly a lot better than adequate. That legion may be a little out of practice, but there was plenty of scope to correct most of their problems.

"Your thoughts?" Gaius asked, as he turned towards Matius. Gaius smiled inwardly as he noticed the range of emotions cross Matius' face. In this sort of test it was desirable to agree with the commander, but Gaius was not giving many clues.

"I think we have a bit of work to do," Matius replied. He had a clue, in that the Prime Centurion had noticed something, and was scowling.

"Why?"

"When Timothy arrived with the cart, that inspection was fairly perfunctory," Matius replied. "It could have been anybody."

"Perhaps they didn't want to piss off their new legate," Gaius offered.

"Maybe," Matius said, "but. ."

Gaius smiled inwardly as he recognized that Matius was a little unsure of himself. "Anything other than the cart?"

"I can't see anybody doing any exercises," Matius offered, perhaps a trifle hesitantly. "I would have thought that with an invasion coming, they might want to get into. ."

"Lucius," Gaius smiled, and patted him on the shoulder, "be more confident. You are perfectly correct, except for the use of the word 'might'. Believe me, I am not impressed, and they will find out what that means starting tomorrow. Now, if you were me, what would you do?"

"I would split them up," Matius replied, more confidently because, from his point of view, his answer was unlikely to be absolutely wrong. "We have already seen a moderate sized river, and some should be practising river crossings. Then, some of the rest would take part in forest exercises that we were practising, and the rest would carry out usual exercises on the open flat land, particularly those involving linking cavalry with infantry."

"You wouldn't have the cavalry exercise in the forest?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Why not?"

"Out in the open, I could keep a good view of them from this hill sir, and I would very quickly learn how good they were. In the forest, it's harder to see, and. ."

"Exactly so," Gaius smiled. "Since I don't know which Tribunes to send back to the Claudia yet, I'll keep you three just observing what goes on for the next week. You, Lucius, can instruct their cavalry in some of the exercises we practised through the summer and watch from this hill. You other two Tribunes can cast dice to decide which one watches the river crossing exercises and which one the forest ambushes. Centurion, I rather suspect discipline is rather lax down there. You will see that any such laxness ceases, as from tomorrow. Any questions, any of you?"

There were none. The following day, the Valeria would learn they had a new commander.

* * *

At the first meeting of Tribunes and Centurions, he outlined the need for further exercises, and watched carefully the responses. As he explained, the winter was fast approaching, and it was imperative that they took advantage of every good day. Unless everything went supremely well, he would impose winter exercises, so that should persuade the men to perform better. The exercises started the next day, and that evening there was a further meeting of Tribunes and Centurions.

"Overall, that was not good enough," Gaius announced. "Let me start with those involved in river crossings. Three cohorts tried in three places. You all got across readily enough, but there was a problem. What was it?"

There was a puzzled silence.

"Then I'll tell you. What about enemy forces? The seventh did get across and immediately set up defensive positions, but the rest sat around, thinking everything was over. Any comments?"

"There was nobody there," the Tribune assigned to the eighth offered.

"How do you know?" Gaius asked.

"We could see open ground."

"One of the interesting points about an ambush is you can't see the ambushers," Gaius pointed out, "at least without a good exploratory effort. Yes, I know the ground was open, but only for about half a mile. You could end up with a third of your men across, and a large force could appear from the forest. Yes, I know there is some risk, but once over, you must set up some sort of defence as soon as possible, and send out scouts to see what is in the forest. Any comment?"

There was none from the shame-faced Tribune.

"Same applies to the ninth," Gaius said, "and while the seventh did fortify after crossing, the forest was closer to you. You could have checked before crossing."

"I did, sir."

"Well, my observer didn't see anybody do it. You might have thought you did, you might have even given an order, but. ."

"I sent scouts across last night, as soon as I knew the exercise was on," the Tribune protested.

"Your point," Gaius said. "I would like to check what your scouts actually did later. Send them to my tent, please. Now, the cavalry exercises. That was a little chaotic, because basically the cavalry didn't do much at all. I am going to assume this was due to faulty orders, because the infantry didn't do much either. There will be a repeat tomorrow.

"Now, the forest exercises. There were three separate exercises, and apart from the gamma ambushers, basically everybody else is dead. Why?"

There was a stunned silence.

"Because what generally happened was that the ambushers announced their presence and marched forward after having tried to form lines in the forest, and those being ambushed tried to form lines. You fought battles of attrition, and since you are equally skilled, or hopefully so, and because you were in equal numbers, you would basically hack each other to death. The objective of surprise is to gain as much advantage as possible before the opposition can organize a proper defence.

"Now, why were the three squads ambushed? Why should they have been wiped out? And more to the point, what could they have done about it? Yes, we've discussed this already. You've got to send out scouts. Now some did, but the scouts' forest skills were simply inadequate. Now, gamma squad did gain a surprise, and it did take some advantage, however, Tribune, what could you have done better?"

"Found a closer place to hide?"

"Yes, you could, although being that far away wasn't too bad. Anything else?"

There was a silence, then a shrug.

"Firstly, there's the choice of position," Gaius said. "If possible, you want a straight section between two obstructions, such as bends, and you want to send detachments to each of the bends. The straight section is the killing field, but you have to have a means of dealing with escapers. Also, you have to do something with your archers. Yes, I know arrows are a little dangerous to send into our own men, but you could still have archers placed where they would fire, but for the fact they're our men. I can't emphasize enough the need to do as much damage as you can before the opposition gets organized. For the purpose of these exercises, if you give the command we assume the archers can send off three flights of arrows before the opposition gets organized enough to form a shield barrier. You may not send the arrows until we make some with soft furry ends, but the assessors will guess how much damage the volleys would have caused, had you sent them. Finally, while your opposition did not send out scouts, you didn't know they wouldn't. You needed to have sent out scouts to capture their scouts.

"All of which gets me to the next point. Each cohort needs scouts specially trained in forest skills, to move without being detected, and to kill any of the opposition that it comes into contact with. I want each of you to find men who have had experience in forests who would be willing to learn these skills. Right, we start again tomorrow morning. Same exercises, same people! Hopefully, better performances!

The somewhat anxious scouts from the ninth turned up and explained what they had done, which was basically to cross the previous evening, do a basic search of the closer forest in the moonlight, then, at sunrise, they did a deeper forest search, all the time trying to remain out of sight. In that they were successful, for Gaius' observers had completely missed them. Gaius congratulated them, then told them that things would get harder, but he expected them also to become harder to find.

* * *

Exercises were carried out for the next few days without revision meetings, as Gaius wanted to see who would take the hints and improve. As expected, some units performed better than others, however it was also clear that some cohorts had been kept in better order than others. Four of the poorer cohorts had two Tribunes who appeared to be out of their depth, so Gaius made an effort to find out why. The answer for one was quite simply he had never commanded at this level before, while the other one was having difficulty in imposing discipline. Gaius decide to personally help the first one, in the hope he could teach him enough, and for the second he gave him the services of the Prime Centurion he had brought with him, together with a very generous supply of canes.

The news that the legion would take part in an invasion did, however, lead to an increase in morale. Marching around, digging ditches and getting soaked in winter streams was simply tedious; however taking part in a conquest was another matter. That they might lose never occurred to the soldiers.

Despite Gaius' best efforts, progress was slow because this legion was strongly traditional. They fought with the marching camp, which effectively meant they fought with mobile fortifications. From a defensive point of view, this was sound, and on open ground it appeared to be unbeatable, but it was known that Britain had many forests and much of what was termed open ground was either small or littered with hedges, trees, or other obstructions. From Gaius' point of view, they had to find an alternative to relying on fortifications when giving battle, and there had to be a defence to possible hit and run tactics. Traditionally, the Roman soldier had to accept that sometimes they would fight in forests, and they would do their best, but that often left them at a disadvantage. The big shields and heavy armour greatly reduced mobility and agility in dense shrubbery, and if men became separated they became vulnerable because it was difficult to avoid forming gaps between men if the men continually had to go around trees. The forest exercises were designed to overcome this, but many of the officers seemed reluctant to take advice. The only way around this appeared to be by demonstration; one squad would be under the control of the men he had brought from the XIth, and they would have to humiliate some of the others.

Another issue that disturbed him, although it had not surprised him, was that the cavalry had been doing very little. It was true that, with the exception of a very few more inspired commanders such as Julius, the Roman army generally made little use of cavalry as a primary strike weapon, and even later clean-up operations were frequently carried out with little enthusiasm. That would change. Just because they were not used to being handled this way did not mean they would not learn. Gaius made it very clear that "we don't do it that way" was not an acceptable excuse, and he had better not hear it again.

The standard use for the cavalry was to clean up those fleeing following a victory, and while this was important, there were obvious alternative uses. This was particularly the case for lightly forested areas, where it was still difficult to form solid lines and manoeuvre those formations. This usually led to small groups fighting, or even man on man. Under such circumstances, victory was not a given, and even if the Romans did win there was plenty of scope for an enemy to escape, provided they were given time to put some distance between themselves and the victors. On the other hand, if the Romans could not form solid lines, neither could the enemy, and in such circumstances cavalry should be ideal for picking off fragmented groups of soldiers, as long as there was enough room for the horses to move with reasonable speed between trees. Finally, there was an important point about strategy: everything that could do damage to the enemy had value in combat and should contribute to victory if the commander could find the right way to use it. One of the most important aspects of battle was to do something the enemy did not expect. If everybody thought that the Romans did not use cavalry as a strike weapon, then there was a ready-made surprise. Accordingly, the cavalry units would drill, and one important lesson to learn before any battle was the limiting density of trees that made cavalry less effective. It was absolutely imperative that the cavalry commanders knew what they could do on any terrain; learning that at the hands of the enemy was simply a waste of lives.

The next issue was field strategy. Suppose the opposition approached as one unit in reasonably open terrain where they could form a line? One possible response was to move two or three cohorts so as to attempt to flank the enemy. Either the opposition split to send some forces to follow the fragment or they did not. If they did, a hole would develop momentarily that could be attacked by cavalry. If they did not the flanking manoeuvre would succeed. Certainly the opposition could move men to continually face the flanking movement, and in principle they could fill the gap, while at the same time thinning their lines, however that required discipline and practice. Then, if they did that, a concentrated punch at the weakest spot would often split and rout them. The side taking the initiative invariably had an advantage over those content to defend.

Alternatively, the main force could split on the left to go around the enemy's rear from the other direction, while the remaining two groups could drive into the extended enemy. If the opposition split to follow the first flanking manoeuvre, they could be tempted, with poor discipline, to form extended lines as the front attempted to get ahead of the rest. Alternatively, they would be a small group, open to attack from several directions from a more mobile force. Either way would open possibilities for cavalry attack. He would design exercises.

Accordingly, there were a number of exercises in which the first cohort moved in ways that it should not and the cavalry was supposed to do something about it. Further, on the basis that it might be necessary for the cavalry to respond promptly to such opportunities, some of these opportunities were designed deliberately to be fleeting. The results of these exercises were poor initially, since the commanders tended to be too cautious. They could see that what the infantry was doing was wrong but they did not see such 'errors' as easily approached opportunities. They were not assisted by the fact that they knew that some manoeuvres were deliberately set as traps for cavalry, for Gaius did not want commanders that simply fell into the first trap.

Matius was then put in operational control of the cavalry, and Gaius was pleased to see that the tables were turned; the officers of the first, being told to do something, had no answer to the new circumstances Matius provided. They had been given units of cavalry themselves, but most of the time these were not used. Then, after a number of such exercises, Matius was put in charge of the first, and now the cavalry was much less successful when Matius countered cavalry with his own units. While the overall learning process was slow, at least it had the advantage of giving Matius a little more confidence.

The exercises went on and on, and as winter approached, there were increasingly grumpy cavalrymen, but gradually the ability to sense opportunities, at least in practice, were gained.

Then there was a new complication. As Gaius remarked, he did not wish to see the cavalry charging off against a set enemy while unsupported by infantry. Certainly, the infantrymen could not keep up with cavalry, but the infantry could move to lead the opposition to extend itself, and if it did, the cavalry attack had to be such that infantry support was possible. The days became shorter, but the exercises became much longer.

Eventually the winter snow came, and the exercises had to cease. However, Gaius was now reasonably convinced that he had the elements of a working legion.

It was just before the Saturnalia when a letter arrived from his estate.

My Darling Gaius,

You should now be on the German border, with your new legion. I bet those men are getting a wake-up, winter or no winter. Many of the people in Rome feel sorry for the men, because they know they will be doing far more drills than any other legion, but I also spoke to a few parents of men in the Valeria, and they are pleased you are there. They have heard that you win your battles, and not with the wasteful use of soldier's lives. Your well-earned reputation is spreading!

Recently, I was invited to the Palatine by Claudius himself. He asked after you, and wanted to impress on me how truly grateful he was for your efforts against Scribonianus. There was no doubt he was genuine, and I think you could get whatever you wanted from him now. I know you have a legion, but the reason you have a new one was not as a favour to you, but rather Claudius really believes you are a commander he can trust to win battles, so that's flattering, isn't it? I know you'll do really well, but Claudius also agrees.

Poor Claudius! He knows he does not present as a commanding figure, and he knows the senators are quietly sniggering at him behind his back, but despite his awkwardness and his stuttering, he seems to know what he is doing and while he may seem weak and awkward at a distance, those straight in front of him acknowledge his imperium.

You will be amused to know that once Claudius smiled on me, so to speak, everybody wants to know me. I was invited back to a party on the Palatine, put on by Valeria Messalina. Good thing you weren't here, because really, men seem besotted by her. There was quite bizarre behaviour there. One who was there was Lucius Vitellius, an ex governor of Syria, I think. Did you know him while you were in the east? Well, this Vitellius prostrated himself on the floor before Messalina, and when she put out a foot, he kissed it! Not only that, but somehow he acquired her shoe, hid it in his toga, and from time to time brought it out and began kissing the shoe! Quite ridiculous! I wonder, did he give it back, or did he keep it?

Winter is now upon us, although I know it will be a lot worse for you up in the north. At least as a Legate you should be able to keep nice and warm. I wish we were back together, like at the Saturnalia we had together, with nice big log fires and good Pannonian wine. Still, I know Claudius will bring you back to Rome sooner or later, so get your troops into good shape, win lots of victories, so your return will be sooner.

I love you, and I am thinking of you always,

Your Vipsania.

Gaius' first reaction was, about time! He knew that Vipsania was not a prolific letter writer, but this had taken a rather long time to get written. Then he felt guilty; there was no point in her having written until she was certain she knew he had arrived. Then he felt a little irritated again, for there was no news about Quintus, then he felt a little guilty about that, because his Steward had not replied either. It may be taking longer than he felt it should to get the necessary details. He would have to write back to Vipsania and remind her.

He was half inclined to forget about the missing money and Quintus, for had he not been told, he would never have known about it anyway. Two things annoyed him: he did not like someone taking advantage of him, and he could not leave Vipsania unsupported since this was one of the few things she thought she could do to support him. If Quintus had asked him for ten per cent of something as an administration charge, he would have either accepted the deal immediately or told Quintus his services were no longer needed, but simply taking it and trying to hide the fact that he was taking it was another matter completely. Worse, Vipsania might begin to feel he did not care about her if he did not follow through and he most certainly did not want that to happen.

Chapter 19

The winter was spent preparing to march, and also to reorganize the cohorts. All men with a year or less service remaining would be left behind, to be merged with another legion that would take over the task of protecting the Rhine. A certain amount of material had to be left for them. Everyone else would march as soon as the weather permitted.

The biggest single problem was that the legion had been stationary for a very long time, and accordingly it had accumulated a very large amount of "necessities", many of which had been stored unused for so long that nobody knew why they had been acquired. Most of these would be left. As Gaius explained to the Tribunes, everything taken had to be carried on marches, the marches would be through forested or swampy country, and top priority would go to the food and artillery. Take too much, and they would be personally responsible for seeing that it was carried. On the other hand, they were going to war, so every piece of artillery, and all the weapons and equipment needed to support the men in the field had to be taken, because if needed during a battle, only that which was there could be used.

Once everything to be taken was listed it was measured and barges were ordered. The idea was that the heavy support material would be barged down the Rhine and taken to the embarkation port in Gaul. The barges on the Rhine would operate throughout the winter, but once they met the sea, further progress would depend on the weather. The tricky part was getting between the mouth of the Rhine and the port. Once in salt water, the effect of storms could be terrible, but the alternative for the legion, namely carrying the equipment on the march was not desirable either. The legion would march as soon as possible once spring came, but that would mean marching over early spring slush, and being bogged down with heavy equipment would make progress unnecessarily difficult and slow. Worse, it would be impossible to carry out exercises while marching, and Gaius had no intention of having no exercises.

Once items were scheduled for the barges, they also had to be marked so they could be identified on arrival, for two other legions would be carrying out similar exercises. Catapults in excellent condition could be acquired by some other legion unless they were marked in such a way that the markings could not be erased or altered. Fortunately, as long as the markings were deep, the equipment for the Valeria could be securely marked. After all, provided the markings were sufficiently deep they could not be erased, while the number XX was difficult to change to II or XIV.

* * *

Early in the New Year, letters from Rome arrived. He went first to the letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

By now you will be in the depths of winter, so I hope you have plenty of good fires to keep you warm. Life here continues as before, although recently we had two storms. Fortunately, there was not very much damage done, but I gather the winter work schedule has been delayed by about three weeks. However, I am sure that nothing serious has happened, and that everything will get planted.

The imperial court is something that would fascinate you; it is seething with intrigue, as everybody is trying to get an advantage, usually at the expense of somebody else. One of the saddest cases was Julia Livilla, who as you will recall, with Agrippina, was a sister of Little Boots. Little Boots publicly honoured her, but he also used her as a prostitute for his catamites, so she and Agrippina plotted to overthrow him and replace him with Lepidus. What would have happened then is anybody's guess, because Lepidus was sleeping with both sisters. Whether they knew or not is anybody's guess. Anyway, both sisters were banished after Lepidus was executed, but Claudius permitted them to return to Rome. Julia was already married to Marcus Vinicius, and I am not quite sure where he fitted in with Lepidus, because there are strong rumours he too was plotting against Little Boots. Anyway, now Julia has been exiled again, apparently for committing adultery with Seneca. There's a rumour around that the accusation was due to Messalina, who gave it as a favour to Vinicius, who is presumably sleeping with someone else.

Vitellius continues his strange grovelling. He must want something, but whatever it is, it is almost as if everybody thinks he will get it, because suddenly a number of people just below senatorial rank are starting to grovel at his feet.

I don't know how to respond to your enquiry about Quintus. I have tried to find out what I could, and I contacted your people in Egypt, and thanks to Valeria Messalina, I was able to get Polybius to contact the shipping people. What I found is that according to them, judging by the price received there is about eight per cent of the corn and ten percent of the wine unaccounted for, but according to the Egyptians, exactly the correct amounts were sent. I don't know whether the shippers exaggerated the load to charge more, or whether there is connivance with the Egyptians.

I first thought that the shippers would have given the true account, because they might be afraid to lie to Polybius, who is one of Claudius' freedmen secretaries. They are very powerful, and Narcissus has already been party to helping Messalina have more than one person exiled or even executed for stealing from the state. On the other hand, I guess if they were cheating, since Claudius pays our costs when the corn is distributed to the poor, they would be stealing from the state, and would be unlikely to confess. I really don't know what is going on there. Perhaps it was just an honest mistake. If there are any other enquiries you want me to make, let me know.

Quintus also holds a number of evenings, and Lucilla had invited me to many of these. Accordingly, I have seen quite a bit of him. I have tried to ask him about a couple of the transactions, but he was very supercilious, and I got nowhere. I am afraid his attitude is that women should be breeding children, and that is all. I am not quite sure what Lucilla thinks of this, but again, I guess this is none of my business. You might have to come home soon and talk to Quintus.

I love you, and I am thinking of you always,

Your Vipsania.

Gaius found the references to Quintus somewhat frustrating. Eventually Quintus would answer to him, and he had better not play those tactics on him. He might be Lucilla's husband, but it would take more than that to save him.

The news from the other letters was more encouraging. As far as his spies could tell, Vipsania was not receiving visits from senators, and because Gaius was not there, she did not have to carry out formal entertaining. It was not clear whom she was seeing at Quintus' evenings. Whether plots could be carried out under Lucilla's gaze was unclear, but he could hardly keep his wife away from his sister. Anything could be going on at the Imperial Court, but again that was not the place to carry out plots openly.

There was one further problem, namely what to do about Aelius Domitius Falco, the original Tribunus Laticlavius of the Valeria. He had already sent two Tribunes back to the Claudia, but Falco was more of a problem. The only reason he wished to return him was because he wished to retain Matius and there was only one Tribunus Laticlavius per legion. More to the point, Falco was anything but useless, but what could he do? If he sent Falco back to the Claudia, that was effectively labelling him as useless, and that would wreck any future career. On the other hand, if he reduced him to ordinary Tribune, that would be a demotion. Worse, this situation had been going on too long, and the troops were starting to believe that he had no faith in Falco, which would make it impossible for him to command in the field. No matter what he did would seem to be wrong. Still, he had little option but to do something, so he called Falco to his tent.

* * *

Before him was a strange mixture of frustration, disappointment and resignation. Yes, he knew that his Legatus had made a specific request to bring his Tribunus Laticlavius from the Claudia, and that effectively his career was over before it had a chance to get started.

"You present me with something of a problem," Gaius started.

"Yes sir, but with respect, I have more of one."

"Not necessarily," Gaius replied. "I have a proposition for you, and if you accept, your problems will be with the Celts, and my problems will be with our General Staff. Believe me, most who are in the know would prefer yours."

"I'm not sure I understand. ."

"In the exercises with Matius, you've done quite a bit of improvising."

"Sir, Matius has to expect that the Celts. ."

"I'm not criticizing!" Gaius interrupted. "If anything, I'm praising you. Basically, you and Matius have done very well."

"Thank you, sir." There was a look of surprise on Falco's face.

"Accordingly, I don't want to lose you, but of course a standard legion has only one Tribunus Laticlavius."

"So you wish to demote. ."

"No!" Gaius held up his hand. "This legion is going to be different, and if you're willing to go along with what I am going to propose, we will have at least two."

Falco looked at him impassively.

"Given half a chance, I do not intend to fight the standard way," Gaius continued, "which is why we have been carrying out all these exercises. Rather than form one big line, I am going to try to be as mobile as possible, and try splitting the legion up into cohort groups, which in turn means I have to find someone to command an independent group of three to four cohorts. That is in principle someone senior to the usual Tribunus Laticlavius, and while there is no such rank, in principle if you took this position and were successful, that would be a good start in getting your own legion. Are you interested?"

"Yes sir!" came a rather surprised response.

"Right, then you might as well stay where you are with the first, and you can take the ninth under your wing as well. The Tribune there is a good man, but a bit inexperienced, so he can be your second in command. After I tell him what I have in mind, I want you to get to know him better, and I want you to get on with him. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"If there are any personal problems, let me know," Gaius said, then remembering his own previous experience, he added, "but basically the responsibility is yours. If you want to command a legion, you have to be able to work with Tribunes, so now's as good a time as any to get started. I'll see that Tribune this evening, so you get on with it tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"One last thing. I want every Tribune and the first Centurion of each cohort to join me for a meal on Friday evening. Be there. Now, be off with you."

"Yes sir!" Falco saluted, turned and left.

* * *

"To the province, Britain!" Matius said, and raised his cup of wine. It had been his turn to propose a toast, and this always had the possibility of being embarrassing. He had learned that bloodthirsty toasts brought scorn from his Legatus, but wishy-washy toasts were no better. This time he was pleased to see Scaevola smile a little.

"Indeed!" Gaius got to his feet. "Now, I've called you all here to let you know what is going to happen next. Next week, provided it doesn't storm, we march, and I want to march quickly. There will be some longer stops where we exercise, and there will be at least three such stops.

"Now, as you know, a legion usually has only one Tribunus Laticlavius, and we have two. No, this is not a case that I can't make up my mind, and indeed I am looking for a third equivalent, so the rest of you Tribunes can sharpen up your skills somewhat. Then on top of that, there will be three ordinary Tribunes, so those who miss out will still be involved in the invasion. Why do I need these?

"Well, the standard way Rome fights is to front up and slug it out, with fortifications to back into. The marching camp technique is unbeatable on open terrain, at least as far as we know. However, much of the time in Britain there won't be open terrain; instead there will be reasonably dense forest. Dense forest means we can't form lines anywhere near so readily, and they break up with trees. So, the question is, how do we handle this? The simplest answer is to try to find terrain most suited to our methods, and that will be our first priority, and if we can pull this off, we will be fighting just as usual. However, if the enemy is any good, they'll be trying to ambush us when we can't form lines properly, such as in hilly country with trees and dense scrub. So, how do we defend against that?" He looked around, and pointed to Falco, indicating an answer was required.

"Find them before they find us," came the laconic response.

"Indeed," Gaius nodded, "which gets us to the first set of exercises. There will be a long march to the embarkation point, and since we are nominally in friendly territory we do not expect enemy action. Accordingly, we can use the march for exercises. We shall divide into three cohort groups, and they will, in turn, each have a different role. One will march with the baggage, and will be the target. One will have left and marched ahead, and will attempt to ambush the target. The third will try to protect the target, and may march with it, or may try to seek out the ambushers and ambush them. The key to these exercises is that each group must use its exploratores to try to find the other group and/or capture their exploratores. The ambushers, by the way, can split any way they like, and leave decoys. We'll have rules regarding capture and engagement; these exercises are designed to help hone the forest skills, and not to kill each other before we get started.

"There's one final point to these cohort groups, and we may even split further. Rather than form one line, it may be preferable to form separate groups that may form small lines with bent sides, or small squares that work in conjunction with each other. The idea is if we can get the enemy to try to flank one group, we may be able to wedge them between their target and another group, in which case we can crush them quickly.

"So, what's the point of what I am trying to say? If we can't form a line, we are going to divide, and when we do, those groups must be able to form different shapes and move in a lot of different ways very quickly, sometimes according to signals from me when they can't see why they are doing it. So, once we get to the coast there will be a lot of further exercises in manoeuvres that most of you won't have seen before. These must be carried out very quickly in dense forest, and we have to know what we can do and what we can't before we embark. So, while you are all thinking that all we have to do is to march to the coast, that is the least of it.

"So, Falco, you will keep the first, and take the fourth and the ninth under your control, subject to my overall orders. Matius, you will take the third, the sixth and the eighth, and the cavalry auxiliaries. The remainder will get a senior Tribune, when I make my selection." He paused, and noticed the interest show on the face of Sextus Rutilius Lupus, the Tribune of the second cohort. This selection was something of a hint that he should make a big effort during the exercises, particularly since he knew his main opposition was at best, solid. This was indeed the intended message.

"Finally, each of these groups will get a secondary Tribune, and that man will be mainly responsible for supporting the senior Tribune, including with the staff matters and supply issues. Nevertheless, should your senior be killed in action, you will step up and take his responsibilities, so don't be lazy during these exercises.

"We march next week. Until then, get to your Centurions, and start sorting out how you are going to carry out the types of manoeuvres I am going to describe next. .

Chapter 20

The march commenced with the second, fifth and seventh leaving two days before the rest. Their mission was to ambush the Falco's group, while Matius was to attempt to find and intercept the ambushers. Falco set out at a careful pace, with scouts in all directions, and set a solid camp each day. They had been in the forest for five days, and Matius had apparently found the opponents, but they had scattered deeper into the forest.

Falco's group marched on, and as they emerged from the forest there were various sniggers from the men. Some ambush! Ahead, there was a deserted village, through which the road went. This puzzled Gaius: why was this village deserted? On a hunch, he dropped back.

The why became apparent: the first cohort was just emerging from the other side of the village when it became apparent the village was not deserted at all! The ambushers leapt out, and "pretend" vicious fighting began. However, the fourth showed considerable discipline in that the ends of their cohort retreated to the cohorts outside the village, which began circling. It was then that centuries of the fifth cohort emerged from various hiding places that had largely been passed, and they in turn began "attacking" the ninth. Gaius called for the signal to end the exercise.

It took two further days to regroup, with Matius bringing in the "captured" seventh cohort. Gaius then brought all the Tribunes together to his tent for a revision. He began with Falco, and asked him to comment on his own performance. A crestfallen Falco had to admit he had been expecting an ambush in the forest. .

"Don't worry," Gaius smiled. "What was important about that was you had a manoeuvre in place, so that when the ambush started, everybody knew what to do. Your one fault was, when you saw a deserted village, you should have checked more fully that it really was deserted."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't worry. One of the basic problems with warfare is that the enemy have to have the chance to make some good moves. The fact that you had default manoeuvres in place to cope with an ambush was good. Also, to be fair to you, all the auxiliary scouts were in the other groups, so you were always likely to be a victim. Now, Matius, what happened to you?"

"We were patrolling through the forest ahead of Falco, sir, spreading wide, and we found the ambushing soldiers. I ordered a third of my cavalry to scout wide, and the rest pursued what we could see, and eventually we caught them."

"But left the party you were supposed to be protecting unguarded?"

"Yes sir, but. ."

"But?"

"There were a very large number of the enemy, sir. If this were real, we had to do something about such a significant force, and at the time, we did not know that we weren't facing an equal force."

"Or a bigger one?" Gaius pointed out.

"No sir, but we still had to find out. If there is a massive force of enemy, we can't just ignore them."

"How did you know you weren't going to be encircled if you chased?"

"I suppose, strictly speaking, we didn't, but I did have the cavalry scouting wide. They should have seen something, so I would get warning."

"Unless the scouts were captured?"

"They scouted in depth," Matius replied, "and I received continual reports. If they ceased from a given direction, I would have warning, and. ."

"Good!" Gaius nodded. "Again, we can't prevent the enemy from making good moves, and all we can do is take precautions, which you did. Whether you should have pursued for so long is a matter of opinion, but," he continued, looking across the assembly, "I want each of you to have confidence to take action in the field. If you can't get orders, then you have to do what you think is best, and I will back you if you do something that can be construed as reasonable at the time. I do not want my officers in the field to be paralysed into inaction. It is much better to do something that is far from optimal properly than sit on your arse petrified, because that is always wrong. Now, Lupus, your turn to explain what you did, and, more to the point, why you did it. We were supposed to be practising forest skills, but somehow you managed something else."

"Sir, I thought I was supposed to set an ambush. ."

"You supposed correctly."

"Well, sir, given that Falco knew there was an exercise under way, I felt the forest was obvious, sir, so I left the seventh to divide in the forest, make sure they were seen, and to draw away scouts and if possible capture them, while if Matius came through, they were to draw them away as far as possible, until it was obvious Matius could not rejoin Falco. He may have become over-enthusiastic. ."

"An interesting move, but it required you to know there was going to be a second cohort group, which is not obvious."

"Well, sir, I knew. There was no point in ignoring that and. ."

"It was an observation, not a criticism," Gaius interrupted. "Continue."

"My guess was that Falco would know we were going to ambush, so he would have something worked out for when we were in the forest, but I thought he might have got careless when we came out if it, so I had my cohort hide in the village, and. ."

"What did you do with the villagers?"

"I asked them to cooperate, sir, and promised them we would pay well for supplies, and. ."

"That's good," Gaius nodded. "I shall ensure reasonable promises are covered."

A look of relief crossed Lupus' face, as he continued, "The rest was a bit risky, but I thought it would be a good exercise to see if I could hide a cohort in what looks like the open. In fact there are plenty of places if the opposition aren't looking too closely, and. ."

"You did an excellent job," Gaius smiled. "Any problems?"

"Well. ."

"You might as well come clean," Gaius smiled at the discomfort on his Tribune's face.

"A small number of soldiers protested my orders, sir."

"Oh, they did, did they?" Gaius' look was now harder. "So, what did you do?"

"I ordered them imprisoned in a shed, sir, and told them that any attempt to escape would be treated as mutiny. ."

"Anything else?"

"I ordered twenty strokes of a cane to each of them, sir," came the hesitant response.

"That seems reasonable," Gaius nodded, "but they can each have four weeks of latrine duties added on. Make sure the centurions know that this caning is to be serious."

"Sir. ." Lupus was clearly hesitant about the next point.

"Go on."

"One of them is a Centurion, sir. I may have trouble with. ."

"Was a centurion," Gaius spat. "He is demoted to the ranks, and he gets a double caning, to be applied by a Centurion I brought from the eleventh."

"He may not survive forty strokes, sir," Lupus pointed out.

"I know," Gaius replied coldly, "but that's more his problem than mine. Right, so far you've done a good job, so you get the third promotion, but don't let it go to our head, because lots of carelessness can reverse it!"

"Yes, sir!" came the enthusiastic response.

"Your cohorts will witness the caning of your men, but the entire legion will witness the caning of that Centurion. I wish it to be very clear that orders are not items for discussion. I don't care what the men think about orders, but I care very much that they are carried out promptly and fully. The more that man hurts, the more likely orders will be carried out the way I want them carried out, and that means that a number of other men, whose lives depend on those orders being carried out, will live."

"I'll see to it, sir."

"Good. Now, following that, I want you and your Centurions to show the others how you managed to hide so well in what was nominally open terrain," Gaius said. "The punishment is tomorrow morning, the demonstration tomorrow afternoon, then, Matius, you can set off as an ambusher, and now, Lupus, you will be the ambushed, so you set off two days later. Falco, your job is to set off after Lupus and see what you can do to protect him."

* * *

The legion assembled on a small rise and the men were ordered to face towards the post at the bottom of the slope. The orders were simple. Any man who did not watch would be taken down to the post. The once-Centurion was brought out, stripped, and lashed to the post. Gaius calmly announced that this punishment was for wilful disobeying orders. In the future, one person so disobeying could expect worse; a group could expect decimation. Orders were not discussion points. He then stepped back and nodded to a Centurion from the XIth, who stepped forward and lashed with a viciousness previously unseen by any of the men. At the end, the unconscious bloodied body was taken down and carried away, to see whether he lived or died. The legion remained silent throughout this.

* * *

When Lupus' group had been in the next forest for two days, Matius attacked with cavalry. The forest had been particularly heavy, and accordingly Falco's protective force had slipped behind, however they quickly came to the rescue, and on their appearance, Matius' cavalry decided to beat a retreat. Falco pursued, and Lupus sent his cavalry to assist, but after three hours Falco found the forest thinning and Matius' cavalry had somehow eluded them. He turned back. Meanwhile, the main party had marched on, thinking that they had done reasonably well in this exercise.

Accordingly, when they ran onto the second ambush, there was momentary confusion, but this was quickly remedied and a defence organized. Eventually, the raiders withdrew when Lupus' cavalry reappeared from behind, at which point the infantry ambushers turned to restrike. At this point Falco's men reappeared, and Gaius called for a halt to proceedings. The exercises were to practice manoeuvres in forests, not to engage in long-winded games of attrition.

The exercises continued, and at the same time the legion made by far the slowest march towards their destination of the three legions. However, Gaius became more confident; with each exercise, the situation became more complex and more difficult to resolve, but that was because each group was performing so much better. Because the format of proceedings were more or less known to all, it became increasingly difficult for any of them to do anything original, which of course meant that the legion was developing procedures to deal with just about anything. That, of course, did not mean there would be no problems; just because the legion could manoeuvre did not mean the enemy could not fight well. The important point, from Gaius' point of view, was that now the legion had minimized the chances of fighting man on man in single combat. Even small groups of men fighting coherently for each other was a great improvement on single-man combat, as in single combat the Roman soldier had no advantage over his opponent, and in some ways his heavy armour put him at a disadvantage. Even the forming of a small shield wall turned the odds significantly back to the Romans.

* * *

They were almost to the coast when the next mail arrived, and Gaius was pleased to receive a letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

Spring is here, the trees are greening nicely and many are in blossom. You will be very pleased to know that the rains were good, so it looks like a promising start to the year.

I am afraid I haven't got any further as regards Quintus, and I don't think I can. Word must have got back from Egypt that I had been asking questions, and Quintus became quite angry. I think the fact that I am a woman has something to do with it, and his attitude was quite overbearing. He did not explain anything, and he seemed to think that any explanation to me was unnecessary. I am sorry, but I think that's as far as I am likely to get.

I have met another problem. Polybius had been helping me, but it seems he has been mourning a brother (I have no idea how he died) and his work efforts have declined. He requested Claudius to relieve him of his appointment, but Claudius was in no mood to agree. Polybius was told to straighten up, or else; he might have been freed, but he was still in the service of the state. The overall result is that now he cannot help me, which means I cannot see how to make further progress. I am not the only one he cannot help either. Seneca, from exile, wrote to Polybius to console him on his loss, but in reality it seems to have been an attempt to get Polybius to help him get back to Rome. That isn't going to happen, and in his present mood Polybius is not going to help anyone, possibly not himself either.

It appears that kissing shoes might well be a sound strategy after all, since Vitellius has been made Consul. It seems that some of the other courtiers must have guessed or known this was going to happen, because there has been a lot of real grovelling to Vitellius going on for some time. From what I can make out, you got on reasonably well with him while you were in Syria, so his being Consul can't be too bad.

Mind you, being Consul this year may not be all that desirable. The Senate is definitely restless. They seem to be laughing at Claudius, and I think some of them, including Marcus Vinicianus and Valerius Asiaticus, expect Claudius to fail. Poor Claudius has an awful lot riding on this invasion, so it better not fail. Of course I have no doubt that the Valeria will sweep all before it, and believe me, if it does, you will get just about anything you wish. Besides the invasion working, it has to work with soldiers that don't have their own eyes on the Principate, and I know that you are one of the few that Claudius really trusts.

So, our future lies in your hands. Doesn't that make you feel good?

Your loving Vipsania.

Gaius laughed hollowly at the last part. The future would come, irrespective of whether he was there, although he did acknowledge that his actions might well alter it. That Vitellius was Consul was certainly not the worst thing that could happen, although it would make very little difference to him because the position would last for a year, and he would be invading Britain through the whole Consulship.

The reference to Quintus annoyed him. He would write a letter to him, requiring him to produce the documentation Vipsania had requested. Quintus should consider a request from her to be a request from him; if he sent her away, calling her a woman, he was sending him away, calling him a woman, and when he, Gaius, returned to Rome Quintus would answer for any such insults.

Quintus' antics were just what he needed; just when he was to embark on an expedition that would be the height of his career, he had to deal with an arrogant relation.

Chapter 21

Legio IX Hispana, having much further to travel, and also requiring a replacement for its duties, would not join the invasion until much later in the season but the three legions that had marched from the Rhine, Legio II Augusta, Legio XIV Gemina Martia and Legio XX Valeria were sufficient for this channel port to be a seething mass of humanity and of chaos. Food and materials had to be acquired, and since the heavy equipment had been brought by boat down the Rhine and along the coast, it had to be reunited with its legion. Everything had to be recorded, particularly the money. There was a huge fortune in coin, more than most tribal kings could ever hope to amass, but with three legions guarding it there was little opportunity for theft.

Clerks were everywhere, recording everything. The power of Rome arose not from the gladius and shield wall, formidable though they may be, nor from the ability of the ordinary Roman soldier to achieve the extraordinary, but rather from the ability to organize and deploy over great distances such a massive disciplined force kept in supply. The ability to bring over twenty thousand well-disciplined troops to a chosen point at a chosen time, then to mount an attack with all units coordinated to preset goals meant that the tribally dependent Celts could not defeat this invasion once it became established.

Just because Rome could do it, however, did not mean there were no slip-ups. Inevitably equipment was mixed up, lost, misplaced, and sorting out the mess was a task for every man who could read. The ability to read led to a safer life; the ability to read and fight led to rapid promotional prospects. A number of soldiers whose reading ability was marginal at best were now helping. If they were lucky, they might get noticed. If they were unlucky, they would get noticed, as someone else would have to deal with the resultant chaos.

One beneficial legacy of Gaius Caesar was the experience gained from carrying out a similar exercise only a few years before. Some previous mistakes had been avoided, but the problem of interlegionary competitiveness had not. Something was always in short supply, and the respect that a Tribune gained lay partly in his ability to ensure that the shorter the supply, the greater the fraction he acquired. One source of interlegionary competitiveness arose from the fact that a Tribunus Laticlavius was always given more by the General Staff, and by various clerks. A legion had one Tribunus Laticlavius; the Valeria gained an immediate advantage by allegedly having three. This was something of an irritation to the other legions.

However, in terms of irritation, the Flavians were leading the charge. While Vespasian had a legion, Plautius had made Vespasian's older brother, Sabinus, a staff officer, thus superficially giving the Augusta a clear advantage. Then, when Vespasian complained to Plautius that one of Gaius' Tribunes got something he thought should have gone to the Augusta, Plautius quietly told Vespasian that if Sabinus couldn't manage that little problem, then maybe he needed better staff officers. Vespasian then learned that Gaius had previously served under Plautius. Expletitives flew.

"Another scared-shitless youngster of senatorial rank wanting glory from the back of the Roman soldier," was the very mild form of the gruff assessment that eventually got relayed to Gaius.

Gaius simply laughed when he heard about that statement and suggested that Vespasian be informed that at least he had killed enemies of Rome and not Roman citizens. Later and privately he was annoyed. How dare that man! A man who responded to having filth thrown all over him by persecuting those whom the erratic Little Boots had singled out for attention. A man who was given a legion by Claudius to get him out of Rome! Admittedly, he was a man given a legion by Claudius because the discipline in that legion was poor, which meant he got this legion for similar reasons that he, Scaevola, had got his. Vespasian was a man who had the cheek to criticize advancement the way he, Vespasian, had advanced! Yes, Vespasian's assessment of the promotional system of the Roman army had some truth to it. Such appointments sometimes led to useless legates, whose ineptitude was covered for by the determination of the ordinary soldier, and the fighting ability of the centurions and NCOs.

Vespasian was a political animal of the first order. One way or another, he had acquired the backing of Vitellius, and through him he had ingratiated himself with Gaius Caesar, and apart from the filth, he had been useful to Little Boots. Come the change, come the political skills! Somehow he had got to be on extremely good terms with Narcissus, who, thanks to Claudius' distrust of everybody else in Rome, had acquired an extremely powerful position, effectively Chief of Home Affairs. Many people thought it was Narcissus' influence that had lead to Vespasian commanding the Augusta, but Gaius knew better because Claudius had told him. Probably even Vespasian did not know the real reason. And that man had the cheek to question his position! Damn the man! Youngster! He was only a few years older himself, and most of those years had been spent advancing up the political ladder.

Vespasian was not tall, but he was a powerful man with close-cropped hair, a bull neck, a large nose, powerful jaw, and huge muscular arms. He had the reputation of a no-nonsense commander with zero tolerance for some of the antics of lesser officers. He had none of the tolerance shown by the great Julius. Julius, when told of men reeking of perfume would comment that his men fought better that way, probably because if they didn't, they were in deep trouble. But when Vespasian smelt a perfumed officer, there was an immediate demotion. Apparently, Vespasian commented that the man might have had the good sense to stink of garlic.

When the Valeria finally reached the port zone, the long sequence of exercises had knocked out the slackness that had come from a long period of doing nothing and the lack of discipline passed on from ill-disciplined Legates more interested in plotting than maintaining a fighting force. Nevertheless, Gaius continued a series of drills that were far more intense than those of any other legion. Gaius intended to win with unconventional manoeuvres to minimize casualties and ensure quicker victory. Accordingly, the legion would drill until every conceivable movement and formation that he might require was second nature.

Apparently Vespasian's spies had watched these drills and it seemed that the latest formation, emphasizing breadth rather than depth, had made a poor impression on Vespasian, or so Gaius had been told. That raised an interesting question: how would he know? From what he could gather, Vespasian had followed the standard route for someone outside the strict senatorial families: he had spent some years as a Tribune in Thrace, then had followed the standard political route back in Rome. The period in Thrace had not been notable for any military action, so while Vespasian would know the standard army tactics, it was less clear that he had any field combat experience. Accordingly, Vespasian could be expected to use standard tactics. The standard tactic was to bludgeon the enemy, then replace the front-line men with fresh ones and continue bludgeoning. This appeared to be the approach Vespasian intended to take, with the modification of placing emphasis on artillery to do the bludgeoning. His intended approach to a fortified village or town was to level it with rocks, or incinerate the villagers with fireballs. The philosophy seemed to be, surrender or die.

While this might be effective, it was counterproductive: dead men did not pay taxes, and the relatives of dead men felt they had to get vengeance. Much better to leave as many alive as possible, because a man who had surrendered did not provide sufficient reason for a cause, and the payment of taxes was not sufficient cause for a relative to feel the need to revolt or fight. Even apart from the instructions Athene had given him, and that Rebecca had added in support, pointless killing was something he would not tolerate. No, he would win with the minimum of killing by being a better commander.

In the event he got open ground, Gaius decided he might line up broadly; the enemy would either match or not match. If they did not, it would be reasonably straightforward to turn an enemy flank and attack the rear. If they did, he would select the weakest spot he felt to be critical, then launch a wedge formation at it, the remaining forces now forming oblique lines, and some moving to reinforce the attack. The Celts were not professional soldiers and would not respond well to a fluid situation. They only had light infantry, mostly spearmen without armour who would not be able to embarrass him by rapidly punching a hole in a cohort of heavy infantry, and even if they had a minor success, they did not have the command and control to take full advantage. The second difficulty for them was that their initial deployment would be their final deployment. The final deployment of the twentieth would look nothing like the initial deployment, unless there was no option, such as a frontal attack on a fortified position.

When a Centurion asked him about these tactics, Gaius simply said that his soldiers' lives were too valuable to waste on battles of attrition. These words spread through the legion like wildfire. Even grumbling about drills stopped. Staying alive while winning was a goal the men could relate to.

Gaius also spent much time with the exercises, even at times personally taking a part to help someone who was in trouble. At first the optios were unhappy, feeling they were being criticized, but each time he intervened he did so by pointing out that he saw something that might go wrong, he wasn't doing anything in particular, so he was just joining in to help. What he hoped was that others would follow his example and help whenever they saw some other soldier in difficulty. They needed to work as a team, not as a bunch of observers. What happened next was that whenever he was around, special efforts were made to ensure nobody needed his help. The cohorts were becoming more coordinated and the men appreciated what he was doing for them.

Once these new tactical moves were being performed to his satisfaction, he initiated drills in his other new tactic. It was not unknown for Roman commanders to take the first cohort and use it independently, but he was taking this concept further. He would take the standard separation into three groups of cohorts, but use these to launch simultaneous attacks in slightly different locations, but combined in objective. The enemy would have to improvise. If they merely charged ahead, as he expected they would, they would be enveloped and crushed as if on the horns of the bull. This was a fairly standard Roman tactic. If they split, then the better Roman appreciation of the situation and better coordination would win through. This was not exactly novel; he was taking a tactic of a Roman army group, and employing at the legion level. Of course he could only do this on suitable terrain and the deployment might have to change before battle commenced. That was why the legion was drilling twice as hard as any other legion, and not, as Vespasian seemed to think, because he could not get the standard drill right.

The hell with Vespasian! The twentieth would have the best manoeuvres, carried out the fastest, of any of the legions. As for Vespasian's brother, the hell with him too!

* * *

On his first meeting with Vespasian, Gaius was struck by the fact that everyone was deferring to him and trying to get his attention, which was a waste of time since Vespasian ignored them. Well, someone was going to be different. Claudii were not noted for being deferential! Vespasian noticed him, and strode towards him.

"Your men haven't got here yet?" Vespasian frowned. It was not until later that Gaius realized that Vespasian seemed to have a perpetual frown.

"They're camped about two hours march to the north," Gaius replied, then he kicked himself. Vespasian knew that anyway! He had been watching the training!

"Don't want to mix with the rest of us, huh?"

"Better forage there," Gaius shrugged.

Vespasian stared for a moment, then nodded as he said, "That's a good enough reason. Is there spare forage there?"

"A few miles to the east there's plenty."

"I'll tell my cavalry commander," he said, and turned away to deal with his next problem. If nothing else, Gaius noted, while Vespasian's social graces were slight, he was efficient.

* * *

Organizing the running of the cohorts was the Tribunes' job and Gaius felt it was more important that he showed he trusted them to do it than he spent time overseeing. The trick was to show he trusted them rather than to give the impression that he did not care. So, each morning he required reports as to what problems were being dealt with, what problems were solved, and any problems that might seem to be too difficult for the Tribune. No Tribune would permit anything into the last category unless it bordered on the insurmountable, so by about ten o'clock each morning he had time to deal with some of the more vexing problems facing him.

Gaius also felt that the Tribunes would prefer it if he was not watching while misunderstandings were sorted. As a reason to be out of their way, he decided to go for a walk along the coast. He had hardly gone any distance when he noticed that the reef he had seen previously was gone, and the beach was almost submerged.

"It's the tides," Timothy remarked. "You remember we discussed them. They were first discovered by Pytheas."

"If they're this big here," Gaius muttered, "it is fairly obvious that the locals would know about them well before Pytheas turned up."

Timothy was about to mutter something about a certain anti-Greek feeling, but decided against it. "They would know about them," he conceded.

"So the moon can actually pull this much water up?"

"Apparently. The sea definitely rises and falls, depending on where the moon is. It is obvious that the moon must be pulling the sea up."

Gaius was intrigued. If the Moon went around the Earth, it had to be falling around the Earth, but if the sea rose, was that not the sea "falling" towards the Moon? He vaguely recalled the lesson about Pytheas, but he had never imagined the tidal movement could be so great. A local fisherman told him that it was now high tide, and the water would not come any higher. So how far did it go down? He would come back twelve hours later.

He did, and found the water in the same place. Something was wrong. It was later he found out there were two tides a day, and so next time he went out six hours later, and there was his reef, the sea having sustained a remarkable drop. So, all was well, except. . Except the high tide was not caused by the Moon pulling water towards it, otherwise his original analysis would have been correct. The water faced the Moon once a day, so if the Moon pulled on it there would be one high tide. There were two!

The odd thing, he reflected as he sat on a rock and watched the waves, was that a few weeks ago he had this all sussed out. The Moon moved around the Earth because the Earth pulled on it; the Earth moved around the Sun because the Sun pulled on the Earth. He was prepared to believe the Moon could pull on the water, which meant one tide per day.

Wait a minute! Something was wrong! The water had to be falling towards the Moon faster than the rocks?? Light things falling slightly faster than heavy things?? He was missing something, but what? With regard to the rocks, perhaps they did not move because the solid earth was essentially rigid. No, that was not it, because sand was not rigid. Why did not sand rise towards the Moon? Because the net force was still directed towards the centre of the Earth; if the Moon was pulling, its pull was much weaker than that from the Earth. If the forces were added, everything still fell towards the Earth. Perhaps it fell slower, but it still fell only one way. Which left the question, why did water rise to form the tides?

A wave of despair passed over him. Yesterday he thought he had it all under control, and now, suddenly, he realized he knew nothing. Or did he?

What did he know? The tides did happen, and they were in phase, more or less, with the position of the Moon, but there was one directed towards the Moon, and one directed away. There were no tides in a cup of water, nor in lakes, nor, for that matter, any in the Mediterranean of any substance. Why not? There was pull from the Moon, but there was always a much greater net pull from the Earth, presumably because it was closer and bigger. The two forces were in direct opposition, and by adding them there was one, slightly weaker, directed towards the centre of the Earth. There should be no tides! Except there were.

Did that mean that the Moon had nothing to do with the tides, and it was all an accidental coincidence? As Aristotle said, the wrong premise could readily explain a correct observation. The Moon pulling on the water might well predict a tide, but the presence of the tide did not prove the Moon's action. Perhaps not, but there were not many options.

What was different between this ocean and a lake? Salt? No, the Mediterranean had that, and yes, it did have very small tides. The amount of water? Yes, that was most likely to be real. Strictly speaking, he did not know this, because he had no idea how big this ocean was, but it was generally accepted to be much bigger than other bodies of water. It was then that he saw it: geometry! The water directly under the Moon had a weak force going upwards, and a strong force equal and opposite, leaving a net force going straight down. But since the Earth was a sphere, if the ocean was big enough, water far away would receive the same two forces, but the force directed towards the Moon would not be exactly opposite to the force towards the centre. Accordingly, there would be a small force directed along the surface of the water and directed towards the line between the centres of the Moon and Earth. That small net tangential force was not cancelled out initially by anything else, and that would cause the water to flow tangentially towards the point directly under the Moon. The tides were caused by water flowing sideways, which, when he thought about it a bit further, was obvious because if all the water did was to fall towards the Moon, there had to be a space underneath. No! Water had to come from somewhere else.

Then what? One thing was obvious: the point under the Moon would follow the path of the Moon. On the big ocean the high tide would travel like a wave. Wait! He was slightly wrong. There was an opposing force to the water flowing sideways, which was the weight of the water in the crest of the wave that would try to flow back the other way to make the ocean flat.

That was why there were no tides in a cup of water, or in a lake, or in a small sea. The amount of water was not big enough to generate a sideways flow! Could that be right? Could he have made a mistake? Maybe, but right now he had one explanation that worked, so he would stick with it.

That also explained why the rocks did not form a tide. If the tides were caused by water flowing sideways, the rocks did not flow, hence there was no net effect. Of course, he suddenly realized, he did not know there was not a small effect, because he could not measure its presence or absence. If the rocks did move, he moved with them. Motion could only be measured with respect to something else. The rocks could be going up and down, but because he was always the same distance from them, he would be unaware of it. Which, of course, was required by Aristarchus' heliocentric theory. The Earth was going around the Sun, but since he was going around with it, at the same rate, there was no simple way to prove it.

So, his ideas were still possible, and he understood why the Moon affected tides. No, that was not quite correct. There was still the question of why there were two tides a day.

* * *

He returned the next day. The problem had gnawed away at him overnight, but he felt no closer to the answer. He simply had no idea what he was missing. As he sat on the rock and watched a seagull, he noticed the tide was now not quite in. It was a little later each day, apparently, which was how Pytheas had determined that the moon was responsible. But two tides a day meant that the Moon couldn't be responsible, unless it was pushing as well as pulling, which was ridiculous. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he could not work out what he did not know. Then he remembered Libo's advice: stop worrying about what you can't do, and concentrate on what you can.

What did he know with absolute certainty? The Moon was responsible for the tides somehow. There were two tides per day, one on the side of the Earth closest to the Moon, one on the far side. The Earth and Moon were going around the Sun.

Wait! Did he really know that? He thought for a moment, and decided yes, at least for the time being. He might have to revisit this, but he had to fix as much as possible in place. He knew that all things fell to the centre at the same rate, because he had measured it. He had dropped quite different objects of that bridge, carefully, and he was certain that they did. He was happy to accept that the sea was falling towards the Moon, even if the effect came from sideways motion. He had also been told that the Sun had an effect. When the Moon was full or new, the tides were higher than when the Moon was halfway between. So, what was missing?

What Aristotle would recommend, Gaius thought miserably, was to deduce the answer by logic. But where to start? Make what deductions you could on the simplest system possible that included all you knew.

What did he know about circular motion? Circular motion was two motions, one falling towards the centre, one throwing him away. These were equal, which was why he stayed the same distance from the centre.

Suppose he was in a box, circling the Sun. If so, perforce he would fall at the same rate as the box. What would happen? He sat up with a start. The answer was so strange! If he started in the centre of the box, he would stay there, floating around. There would appear to be no force at all. He would appear to be stationary. As far as he could tell, he would float around without weight! Suppose he was outside the box? Essentially the same thing, except he could eventually work out that he was going around the Sun by looking at the stars. But apart from that, he and the box would fall at the same rate, therefore he would stay on the side of the box, and again he would feel nothing. If the box was replaced by something huge, say the Earth, as far as the Sun was concerned, he was still on the outside of a box, feeling nothing, irrespective of how big the Sun was, because he and the Earth were falling at the same rate. He would fall towards the centre of the Earth, of course, because that was an extra force.

He paused. That was just too weird. It must be wrong! But if it were wrong he could feel the force inside the box, and he would move along the line of the force. But that was impossible if everything fell at the same rate. He had to fall at the same rate as the box, so he could not move towards it. So it must be right. So, for the moment, at least, assume it was right.

At least that explanation also solved an important problem: if the Sun was so far away, the Earth had to be travelling at an incredible speed in a circle, so why couldn't you feel the centrifugal force? The reason was that you, the sand, the air, everything, was falling at the same rate, so there was no force trying to make you move towards or away from anything else.

So, movement was involved in the reason. But that meant that the Earth was going around the Moon, did it not? That was not quite what he was expecting. Could that be right?

Wait a minute! Suppose the Moon was as big as the Earth? What would fall around which? They would each experience force of the same magnitude, but opposite in direction, so both would move. But around what? Maybe both would fall around each other, or around the point halfway between. Now if one was a little bigger, that point would move slightly closer to it! That was it! The Earth was falling around a point somewhere between it and the Moon, and that point was falling around the Sun. Although the Moon was a lot smaller than the Sun, it was more important for the tides, because the Earth was a lot closer to it. The closer you were, the stronger the force! That made sense.

It was then that he saw it. When he thought about it, it was so simple! It was the size of the Earth. The force tending to throw the body away depended on the velocity of the body, while the force of falling depended on the size of the body pulling on it and on the distance between them. For the Earth, these forces were equal and opposite at the centre of the Earth, but the Earth was big, and the forces became out of balance at the edges. Compared with the centre, on the side closest to the Moon the force pulling water towards the Moon was strengthened, and because its distance from the centre of rotation was smaller, its orbital velocity was slower because it did not have the same distance to travel during an orbit. The side furthest away had less force from the Moon on it, but from geometry it was going faster, which meant there was a net force throwing it away from the Earth. Two opposite forces, two tides! And if the Earth was spinning, as Aristarchus needed it to be, the direction was such as to reinforce these speed differences.

He stared across the water. That had to be it. It was so simple! At least it was when you saw it. Then another thought struck him. Not only could he say, if the Earth was moving there would be two tides, but he could say only if the Earth was moving would there be two tides. If the Earth were the centre of the Universe, perforce it was stationary with respect to the Universe. If it were stationary, there would be no force throwing away the water on the far side, because that was due to motion. Therefore the observation of the second tide was clear proof that Aristotle was wrong, and the Earth was moving around a common point between it and the Moon. He had proved that the Earth was moving! You could not directly feel the movement because everything fell at the same rate, but the tides could tell that there was motion because the Earth was big. He felt strangely calm. He understood something.

Suddenly, another thought struck him. If the tides were due to the Earth moving around a common centre between the Earth and the Moon, and the Earth moving around the Sun, there would be two sets of tides, each one like a wave that would add to the other. When they were working together, at full or new moon, the tides would be at their highest, while when the Moon was at right angles to the line of the Sun, at half moon, the two tides would be at cross-purposes, with the low Sun tide adding to the high Moon tide. They would be the smallest tides. The Moon would win out, because the Moon was closest, but these tides would still be the smallest. And a local fisherman had told him that the tides with a full or new moon were always bigger than those with a half moon. That followed from the phase relationship. The bigger tides arose when the sun and moon were working together, the smaller ones when they were at cross-purposes.

So, if he were correct, the Moon and the Sun each generated two equal and opposite tides, but the combined effect would depend on the angle between them. Around the new or full moon, the tides would bunch closer together in terms of when they occurred from day to day, but when the Moon and the Sun were at cross-purposes, so to speak, the peak of the tide would be at some angle between the two tides. That meant there would be more of a drag between high tides from day to day at this time. He had a prediction and he could test this! Or more specifically, Timothy could test it. Timothy could obtain the information that would lose his own bet! This was highly satisfactory! He heard a sound behind him, so he turned around.

"So, while your men work, you sit on a rock." Gaius looked up to see Vespasian standing behind him, still frowning.

"I was thinking," Gaius shrugged.

"Thinking?" Vespasian mocked. "What's so important that it demands so much of your time?"

"Tides," Gaius said dryly. There was no point in discussing physics with this man.

"A very important topic," Vespasian snorted derisively.

"They rise and fall over thirty feet in this part of the world, so I'm told," Gaius said tonelessly.

"How fascinating." The voice showed this information held absolutely zero fascination for him.

"It's a very large volume of water to be moving."

"And very important for an army commander to know about," came the unimpressed reply.

"I couldn't agree more," Gaius continued tonelessly. "Just imagine an overloaded boat, full of troops. You're setting off, and if the tide is going out, you've got a good flow to ride on. Suppose you get to the other end, you want to disembark, and the tide's against you. Stay here a little longer and watch the speed of the water pouring past that point over there, and imagine the average oarsman trying to beat it. There's no way around it. You get washed back to sea, and the enemy, watching from the hill-tops, laugh their heads off, and have about nine hours to organize your welcoming party while you're floundering around wondering what's happening."

Vespasian looked at him, this time with more respect.

"I've found," Gaius said coldly, "that the men fight better when the morale's high, and the morale tends to be higher when the commander at least looks like he knows what he's doing."

"Your point," Vespasian nodded.

"I think," Gaius said, now with a more friendly tone, "that I can reasonably predict what the tides are likely to be doing here and I'm going to find out what they're likely to be doing there at any given day. I've asked the locals how long it takes to get a boat across, so I know when to leave if I want to arrive at the right time."

"And your right time?"

"Dawn," Gaius shrugged. "The Celts won't see me coming, and I have a whole day to secure enough territory and get fortifications under way."

"We're supposed to be welcomed," Vespasian offered.

"And I can tell from the tone of your voice you're going to rely on that as much as I am," Gaius snorted. "I welcome allies, but I've found that people are more likely to be your allies when they know fine well what will happen if they aren't."

"Their point of view tends not to be in direct opposition to the point of a sword," Vespasian nodded.

"So I came here to check up on the tidal flows," Gaius said. "Now I can see you didn't, so. ."

"I came to see you," Vespasian interrupted gruffly. "Your legion could be on my right flank, so I thought we might get together and agree some tactical signals in the event we have to coordinate our actions."

"Of course," Gaius said. This was the time to try to be cooperative, even though, since the Augusta was ordered to consolidate possession and protect allies on the south coast, the prospect of them even seeing each other was unlikely. "When, and where?"

"My tent, for a meal tonight?"

"You like Pannonian wine?" Gaius offered.

"You just came from there?" Vespasian asked.

"True," Gaius admitted. Of course Vespasian knew, or Sabinus' ability as a staff officer would be rated as totally useless.

"A quiet zone, I gather." Vespasian was fishing.

"Six weeks after I arrived it was," Gaius said cryptically.

"I gather," Vespasian said, in a probing, though cautious voice, "that your actions helped shore up support for Claudius."

"I believe I had a significant role," Gaius responded, as much as a challenge to Vespasian as anything else. The one thing Gaius was not about to do was to let this man gain some ascendancy over him.

"Why?"

"Because it is the duty of the army to support the Princeps."

"It is the duty of the army to defeat the enemies of Rome," Vespasian countered in a flat tone. He was looking for the source of the political strength of a potential political ally or foe, Gaius realized.

"And not to fight each other," Gaius countered. He paused, then decided he should make a further attempt at being friendly. He shook his head sadly as he added, "My branch of the Claudian gens has been on the wrong side of most of Rome's internal spats. I thought. ."

"It was time to pick the winning side!" Vespasian grinned, "and win before winning gets too difficult."

"Something like that," Gaius admitted.

"But why back Claudius so quickly, against the Governor of an adjacent region, and a region from where your legion would normally be based, and who could have looked quite favourably on you? Why not wait and see what happened?"

"Because. ." Gaius paused. How much should he tell? Vespasian was known to be close to Narcissus, but not so close to Claudius. What did that mean? Perhaps he should try his own diversion. He shrugged, and then said, "Perhaps because, as you said, winning then was easy."

"I don't know what you think about Little Boots," Vespasian frowned, "but I can tell you most Romans applauded his demise. Why didn't you think it was time for Rome to get someone vaguely competent?"

Interesting, Gaius thought. From what he had heard, Roman citizens were genuinely hurt by his assassination; it was the rich and privileged who disliked Little Boots. Further, those who hated Little Boots did so because of the actions of Vespasian and his ilk. "I think you'll find Claudius is very competent," Gaius replied.

"Everyone says he's a fool."

"Livia publicly ridiculed him," Gaius countered. "Derision seemed preferable to Claudius than poison, exile, or whatever."

"You've met him?"

"Yes, and corresponded with him."

"You think Claudius is competent?"

"Yes."

"That's good enough for me," Vespasian shrugged, and said, as he got up to leave, "I'll see you at sundown."

* * *

Gaius had decided that he should try to be conciliatory, and in any case there seemed to be little point in arguing about general manoeuvring signals. Accordingly, he had permitted Vespasian to specify a number of general signals and their meaning, until suddenly Vespasian looked up at him.

"You're not saying much?"

"What you've said is quite standard," Gaius shrugged.

"They tell me you've had quite a bit of battle experience," Vespasian said. "You must have something to add."

"Apart from Lussonia," Gaius replied, "my experience has been in the desert. Rivers, forests, swamps, none of them seemed much of a problem in Syria."

"So there's nothing you wish to add?" Vespasian asked.

"I notice so far you've kept clear of cavalry signals," Gaius noted.

"I've never used them much in forests," Vespasian admitted.

"Neither have I," Gaius nodded, "but I intend to use cavalry." He decided not to comment on the fact that Vespasian had seemingly not had much use of cavalry anywhere because he had little combat experience.

"Fair enough," Vespasian nodded. "Since this can't all be one-way traffic, tell me about the unusual cavalry manoeuvres you've been using, and the signals you're using."

"You've seen them?"

"I'm impressed," Vespasian nodded. "I've seen what your men are up to."

"If you think your cavalry are up to this," Gaius started. .

"None of that!" Vespasian snorted. "They may well not be up to it today, but they'll be masters of it by embarkation."

So Gaius outlined the manoeuvres the twentieth cavalry were required to know better than the backs of their hands.

"One other thing I've watched," Vespasian added, after Gaius had finished, and had opened more wine. "You're manoeuvring cohort groups, separately. Why?"

"I know the dictum of concentrating maximum force at the weakest point," Gaius said, "but the enemy tends to concentrate his forces in the same place, which leads to a general battering. My idea is to force him to extend his lines, or to be outflanked."

"Interesting strategy," Vespasian nodded, "as long as they don't concentrate and pick you off, bit by bit."

"Let 'em try," Gaius shrugged. "Then they fight in one place, and the twentieth has been practicing responses for every contingency I can think of."

"You can't think of everything," Vespasian continued his frown.

"Don't have to," Gaius shrugged. "The opposition, never having seen this before, won't have time to be too innovative."

"You seem confident."

"I intend to win," Gaius said simply.

"And no problems?"

"The key's not to let the bits get out of touch with each other," Gaius replied, "and for them to know what to do if they do. The Roman soldier can move and fight faster than Celts can, because even if, man for man, the Celt is as brave as the Roman, in thousands they're nowhere nearly as well organized, as disciplined, and their leaders won't know how to deal with a highly mobile enemy."

"A disciple of Julius, eh?" Vespasian grinned.

"Alexander wasn't exactly static either," Gaius shrugged.

"Then we'll have to see who's the fastest. A wager, eh?"

"What?

"Second phase we go west. I'll bet I get to the west coast before you do."

"You're on," Gaius shrugged, "for a small bet."

"You think you'll lose?" Vespasian challenged.

"The bet's for pride only," Gaius replied. "If something goes wrong, neither of us wants to even think they might be risking one soldier's life for our silly bet."

"That's fair comment," Vespasian nodded in agreement. "How about some more of that wine?"

Gaius poured. The wine was starting to have a beneficial effect. In the course of time, the two might eventually become friends, but Gaius was only to well aware that Vespasian was suspicious of Gaius' connection with Claudius, and he still felt his brother should command a legion.

* * *

Aulus Plautius called his commanders together for a briefing at a village some distance from the embarkation point. The invasion procedure would be simple, and was imposed as much as anything by the availability of port space. Three legions would have to set off separately, as three legions could not embark from one port on one day. Since congestion would be even worse at the other end, the three legions would land at separate sites. They would depart in order of their number, thus the Augusta would lead, followed by the Gemina Martia, and finally the Valeria.

The Gemina Martia would land at Rutupiae, at the northern end of Cantiaci territory. The sea would protect the right flank. The Augusta would land at Lemanae, and would have tribes expected to be friendly on its left flank, and because these tribes were expected to be friendly, the Augusta would consolidate the alliance, and thus secure the left flank for the invasion force. The Valeria would land at Dubrae, which was roughly midway between the other two ports. The legions would secure defensive positions, then the Augusta would consolidate the southern flank and thus secure the left flank for the invasion, while the Gemina Martia would advance westward until it could wheel north and cross the river Thames. The Valeria would march westwards and wheel northwards to support the Gemina Martia, unless the Augusta got into unexpected difficulties. Gaius smiled to himself. Vespasian would hardly admit he was having unexpected difficulties, unless something was going to be very very wrong with this invasion.

Following the securing of a defensive position there, the Gemina Martia and the Valeria, supported by the Hispana, would advance into the lands of the Catuvellauni and under command of the Princeps himself, advance to Camulodunum. That gave five initial objectives: secure fortified bases, keep tribes on the left flank appeased, cross the river upstream of and then cross the Thames, take Camulodunum, then fortify and secure this initial territory. A second phase advance would then commence in early spring of the following year.

On the left flank, in the land of the Atrebates, Vespasian was to use Verica's influence in order to set up Cogidumnus as a client king. Accordingly, while part of the Augusta might be used against the Catuvellauni, top priority must be given to securing the Atrebates as allies. By the same token, the Cantiaci and the Regnenses were at present allies, and the invasion was to proceed through their territory. It was imperative that such allies must be treated with respect. All supplies acquired must be paid for, and full discipline must be imposed on the troops. Any behaviour likely to encourage revolt amongst the friendly Britons would be dealt with ruthlessly. Were there any questions? Were there any problems?

There were no problems. Not yet.

* * *

The day of embarkation arrived. Since only the Augusta was to depart this day, the other legions kept away, and Gaius elected to stay further away although he asked his tribunes to watch proceedings. The Augusta was due to board and the troops formed up in order. However, when Vespasian gave the order to embark, they refused to move. Centurions yelled, they applied the cane, but the troops refused to move, and the scene became more ugly. Rather reluctantly, Vespasian could sense that they were on the verge of mutiny, so he backed off trying to force the embarkation and demanded to know why they refused to move. The answer was simple. Britain was at the edge of the world, they could be swept off, and furthermore, the correct omens had not been read. Without the blessing of the Gods, the crossing was doomed, so they were staying put. Plautius and Vespasian harangued the troops, but they stood unmoved. The Gods had not blessed the expedition with propitious omens. If they missed Britain, if they were swept away. .

Plautius was not prepared to order a decimation, which he felt could engender an outright mutiny. The alternative was to appeal to the Princeps. Plautius drafted up a letter to Claudius.

At first, all Gaius heard was that the troops had refused to embark, and the invasion had been called off for the day. He shook his head in despair, because the refusal to obey orders was bad for discipline unless a suitable example was made of those who refused, so he sent Matius to the staff headquarters to find out what had happened. When he heard what Plautius had done, he was furious. Dealing with the refusal to obey orders was the commander's responsibility, in part Vespasian's, but with Plautius present, it was the commanding General's job. This would never have happened under the first Julius Caesar. In one sense the troops would never have dared, because Caesar would undoubtedly order a decimation, but in another sense, the situation would never arise because the troops would follow Caesar anywhere, and Caesar would be in the first boat. Therein lay the problem. The troops had tremendous loyalty to Caesar because they owed everything they had to him and he won them victory after victory. They hardly knew Plautius, but they knew he had never had a significant victory. His first instinct was to go and confront Plautius, but after a little thought, he decided against it. The damage was now done. The problem was how to repair it.

It was two days later that Gaius finally had an idea, and he drafted a second message that he had sent to Claudius. Word of this got back to Plautius, who immediately requested Gaius' presence.

"And what, exactly, did you have to say?" Plautius asked angrily.

"A suggestion as to how to get the troops to board," Gaius replied. "From Claudius' point of view, this invasion has to proceed, or he is dead."

"Why did you go behind my back?"

"I didn't think about it until your request had gone," Gaius said coldly. "Worse, there's no guarantee Claudius will prevail, so it's imperative the troops don't have time to work out a reason to say no, which means no staff officers knowing." Here was a direct challenge. Plautius would inevitably discuss the issue with his staff officers, and from then on, information would leak.

Plautius was less than happy, but he realized that if it came to a choice between him and his Legate, it was not clear what the outcome would be. As Gaius was about to leave, the same thought struck him, so he turned back towards Plautius, and said, "I apologize if you think I was going behind your back. I was not. You have my full support, and I have told that to Claudius." This was not exactly true, but it seemed the right thing to say.

"Well, thank you," Plautius said in a voice laden with sarcasm.

"The problem is," Gaius continued, "that having brought Claudius into this, it is imperative that the men board. If you wish, sir, I shall persuade the twentieth to board and lead the invasion."

"That will not be necessary," Plautius scowled.

In retrospect, Gaius conceded, that had not gone well. But why should he have to worry about the feelings of those who had failed to carry out the Princeps' orders? The short answer was, he did not need to, as long as he had Claudius' support, so he should focus on the real problem: how to get the men to board?

* * *

"The second seems too afraid to set sail," Gaius addressed a century from the eighth cohort of his legion, a century particularly rich in younger and inexperienced soldiers, and he was addressing them without the presence of a Centurion or any NCOs, "but I'm sure that when it is time for the twentieth to sail, there will be no problems, will there?"

"No sir," came the unenthusiastic response. Sailing last had its advantages, but the sailing order was hardly immutable.

"I offered to have the twentieth lead," Gaius continued, "but Vespasian thinks his legion is made of better stuff."

That generated some growls.

"If we have to go first," Gaius said firmly, "I expect you men to board. I shall be on the first ship, and I promise you, I have no intention of falling off the edge of the world."

"You mightn't intend to. ." one started.

"That," Gaius said calmly, "is because there's no edge of the world."

"There has to be! Everything has an end," one of the soldiers said.

"Want a bet? How many denarii?" Gaius challenged.

"Just because I'm out of money doesn't mean. ."

"You can pay with a week's fatigues. Want to bet?"

There was a dull silence. The man knew he would be on fatigues right then. The only question was, doing what for how long.

"Here," Gaius said, throwing a small leaden ball made for the sling. "Since you're so sure everything has an end, show me where the surface of the ball ends."

There were a few laughs at the man's discomfort.

"The great Aristotle," Gaius said as a challenge, "proved that the world is a ball, rounder than that, so I promise, there's no edge."

There were murmurs. People had heard of Aristotle, but none of the men knew or cared what he had written. Still, his reputation was such that. .

"Julius Caesar's troops gave no problem," Gaius continued. "I trust you men are not less than Caesar's."

There was no response.

"I would hope there's no less discipline than with Caesar's men," Gaius continued coldly.

There was even less response. Caesar was known not to have been particularly forgiving, and word had started to spread about their new Legate. Stories were making the rounds that he had ordered many crucifixions without any particular authorization before he became a Legate. Also, irrespective of the stories, discipline in the twentieth had been very much more ruthlessly imposed since he had arrived.

"What I was thinking," Gaius continued slowly, "is that a local boat is going over to pick up some friendly Celts tomorrow and I think the Gallic sailors would be grateful for some men to protect them. I want some volunteers." He paused, then added, "Volunteers will get an extra cask of wine, they will immediately become immunes, and they will get a favour from me when they request it. If nobody volunteers, this century is all cleaning stables, and one in ten will wish they were cleaning stables."

A chill ran through the men. The implication was clear.

"I volunteer, sir," one man stepped forward, "if you can help me."

"You want?" Gaius asked impassively. This was the risk of his strategy.

"My brother has a farm near Ravenna, but there is a rich neighbour trying to. ."

Gaius stared. Even this long after Gracchus. . "Give me the details and I think you'll find your farm is secure," Gaius said coldly. "I give you my word as a Claudian." He would write to Claudius; if the success of Claudius' invasion depended on stopping some rich landowner extorting the poorer family of a soldier, on a good day the rich landowner could expect to join the poor.

There were more volunteers. A Legate who would go out of his way to help one of his men with problems back home was worth supporting.

"Good," Gaius nodded. "Now, one more thing. Don't tell the other legions you're going, and even more importantly, don't tell them it's safe after you get back."

The men nodded, and grinned. It was always good to show up the others.

It was later that day that Gaius met a distraught Vespasian.

"You seem quite satisfied with yourself," Vespasian growled. "Almost as if you don't wish to embark!"

"Actually," Gaius said flatly, "as long as we eventually embark, the current situation is remarkably fortunate." He had to restrain his sense of satisfaction.

"Oh?" Vespasian queried in an icy tone. "Why is sitting on your arse here fortunate?"

"Imagine the Britons?" Gaius smiled. "What will they be thinking?"

"They'll be laughing their heads off at the mighty Roman army, scared shitless by a channel of water," Vespasian growled bitterly. "Trouble is, they might be right."

"They'll probably think we'll end up collecting seashells, like we did a few years ago," Gaius added.

"So why's that so encouraging?"

"Because the Celts are not professional soldiers," Gaius reminded Vespasian. "The next thing they'll do is think of their crops. If we can delay sailing until harvest starts, most of their troops'll have gone home to bring in the harvest. That'll make things easier when we get there," Gaius nodded.

"So, the young Claudius doesn't want to fight?" Vespasian laughed.

"I want to win," Gaius responded coldly. "If the opposition want to be absent, so much the better. The object is to conquer Britain, and I have no particular desire to spill unnecessary blood."

"Neither do I," Vespasian agreed, although Gaius considered him to be not altogether convincing. As he departed he slapped Gaius on the shoulder, a gesture that annoyed Gaius for a moment. Vespasian was trying to be friendly, but not a friend. Vespasian had his own agenda and would go out of is way to see that agenda got done. But then, Gaius had to admit, both of them wanted this invasion to go well. While they had a common goal, they had to work together, and suddenly Gaius realized that he too had been overly aloof.

It might be a natural Claudian attribute, but not one that worked well right then. He had to do something about it, at least as far as Vespasian went.

* * *

Gaius could barely restrain grinning as a rather wistful Timothy took his seat. He had spent weeks down at the beach, studying the tides, and he had quite a compilation of data.

"Well?" Gaius asked softly, although he was beginning to be sure of the answer.

"You were correct," Timothy said, "although I don't understand what all this means. I fixed a marked post in the estuary as you said, and recorded the times as well as I could. The tides come at more or less opposite times, and the day to day difference for the same tide is about half an hour at new moon, and a bit over an hour at half moon. The intervening high tide is about half-way between the time difference, plus twelve hours, and the day and night high tide is very close to the same height. It seems to depend a little bit on the wind too. I don't know why you wanted to know this, but. ."

"I win!" Gaius said triumphantly.

"I don't understand," Timothy said.

"Unless you can explain why the Moon would push water away from it on the far side, the Earth has to be moving," Gaius smiled. "That the sun does exactly the same thing proves that the Earth moves around the Sun. The reason is on the far side the water is being flung away because it is moving faster. It's all to do with your favourite geometry. Here, I'll show you." He took out a wax tablet, and began drawing.

"That's incredible," Timothy finally said.

"Concede the bet?" Gaius smiled.

"What do you want?" Timothy said suspiciously.

"Just your concession, old friend," Gaius replied.

"I think it's an extraordinary effort," Timothy said, then added with a grin, "but you can hardly expect me to concede without some effort. After all, you retreated to think, and you'd hardly expect me to counter that immediately."

"Of course you can have some time," Gaius said softly. "I just hoped you would see the overall beauty of it."

"I do," Timothy replied, "but that doesn't mean that that's the end of it. I must make sure you're right."

Chapter 22

The summer was almost over when the day for embarkation arrived. Representatives of each of the legions together with the entire cohorts that were scheduled to depart had been assembled before a large wooden platform. The Princeps himself would address them, or so the troops believed. There was an air of anticipation as Plautius took the stand. The favourable bubble burst when Plautius stated that the Princeps had sent Narcissus to speak on his behalf. A cacaphony of groans burst out, which became ruder and ruder. Narcissus stared at Plautius, who in turn was beginning to look afraid. This had all the makings of mutiny.

The ill temper culminated when one man from the Augusta climbed onto a rock and yelled out, "And since when do the men of the Augusta listen to a slave?"

"Io, Saturnalia!" yelled a wit from the twentieth.

There was a stunned silence for a second, then suddenly everyone burst out laughing at the look on the face of the man standing on the rock. Rhetorical questions were not supposed to be answered, particularly with a correct answer.

"That bugger just wants a cookie!" another yelled. It was common during the formalities for treats to be handed out after that chant.

"Then give him one of the Augusta's! One of their cooks makes 'em like rocks!"

"Bloody twentieth! Can't even tell the difference between winter and summer!"

Suddenly the whole assembly had broken down into an exchange of increasingly rude but ribald insults and attempted jokes at a different legion's expense. A pair of hands pulled the stunned protester down from his stone.

As the insults finally began to ebb, Narcissus took to the stand again. Rome, he said, could not have an enemy on its western flank that could come and raid as they wished, for they were not afraid of falling off the end of the world. The great Julius had crossed without difficulty, supplies had crossed for him several times, and nobody or no ship was lost other than in battle, or by storm. There would be no storms that day.

They were afraid of falling off the end of the world, were they? That would not happen. How did he know? Well, if the current was so strong that it would sweep a ship off the end of the world, a huge amount of water must be falling over continuously, right? There was a silence. The troops did not like the idea of sailing, but they had to admit that if ships were to be swept over, the water had to be going over all the time.

If seawater were falling off the end of the world, Narcissus continued, sooner or later even the sea would run out of water. The sea levels were as high now as in the times of Julius, or as in the times of the ancient Egyptians, thousands of years ago. Some fearsome loss! There was some laughter.

Then, Narcissus said, have a look at the local tides. Twice a day, the sea fell by up to thirty feet around here. Falling over the edge? Well, six hours later it all comes back again. If that's falling over the edge, it hasn't done the fish any harm! There was more laughter. Men had seen the tides, and they recognized that the water did come back, and the fish survived. Then, on top of that, Narcissus continued, look at how fast the sea comes back. If it is falling over the edge of the world, it's falling the wrong way! When was the last time any of you saw something fall up!

A barrage of rude but good-natured comments arose. The bubble of discontent had burst. Then on top of that, Narcissus added, one of the centuries had already been over there and back. And no cohort was missing a century. Rome required them to sail, and defeat these miserable Celts. Surely they were not afraid of battle?

When Narcissus stood down, Vespasian stepped forward with a small group of Praetorians. He pointed towards the first century of the first cohort, and ordered them to board before the other legions died of laughter at their spinelessness. The men felt decidedly uncomfortable, but while everyone else was laughing, there was little option. The next cohort followed, and before long boarding commenced.

When it was clear that the invasion was truly under way, Gaius sought out Timothy. "I want you to go back to Rome for a while, and travelling with Narcissus' party should be a safe way of getting there."

"You don't want me on campaign with you?" Timothy's eyes were a little downcast.

"Nothing like that at all, old friend," Gaius said as he gave Timothy's shoulder a reassuring grip. "There's something that needs to be done by someone I trust."

"That is?" his eyes lit up.

Gaius then explained the situation he was facing regarding Quintus and the corn. "The money isn't the issue," Gaius explained, "but the problem is I have left Vipsania a job, and Quintus is obviously not being cooperative. Again, by itself that's just a nuisance, but it's upsetting Vipsania, and she may not be feeling very secure, especially after what her father did."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"First, reassure Vipsania, and while you're doing that, you can tell her what's going on here, what we've done, and so on. Secondly, see what you can find out about this corn, and you might like to set up some sort of watch for the next shipment. Finally, go with Vipsania whenever she goes to see Quintus."

"And if Quintus becomes difficult?"

"Tell him that when I get back, I shall do more unto him than that which has been done unto you and Vipsania." And that, Gaius thought to himself, was probably not what Rebecca meant, but for the moment it would have to do.

"Right, then I'd better see Narcissus and see if it is all right by him."

"I've already seen him," Gaius said. "He'll be pleased to have your company, and I've given him a letter to Claudius explaining why you're going back. When you've done what has to be done, you're welcome to rejoin me for next year's campaigning, and I promise you'll have a privileged view."

* * *

Shortly after Timothy departed, the man who had yelled out "Io, Saturnalia!" was called to Gaius' tent.

"I see you are one of the more disruptive in your cohort and you have a rather impressive list of fatigues," Gaius remarked, "but you're also a good soldier when you put your mind to it."

The man stood impassively.

"As it happens you've done me a great favour," Gaius continued, "so we shall wipe these fatigues."

"Thank you, sir."

"I've also looked into the cause of those fatigues."

The man returned to standing impassively.

"Apparently," Gaius continued, "you seem to have this propensity for making smart comments when things aren't going right, almost like this call today."

The man said nothing.

"You think you know better?"

The man did not reply, but stood at attention, waiting for the rebuke.

"I see you can restrain yourself some of the time," Gaius nodded. "As it happens, on at least one of the occasions, your comment had some merit, not that I can approve of your making it. I hope you can see that war is not the time for smart-arsed comments when an order is given?"

"Yes sir."

"The question is, can you be more disciplined when the invasion starts? Can you restrain yourself from these bouts of, shall we say, loutishness?"

There was no reply, but the man was clearly feeling awkward.

"I'm prepared to take a chance with you," Gaius continued. "You're a good soldier when you put your mind to it, so put your mind to it as of now. I need men who can see an opening and are prepared to take advantage of it, without being silly. I'm going to make you an Optio, and I hope you won't let me down when the fighting starts."

"I won't. Thank you, sir."

"Right," Gaius said with a smile. "Dismissed."

Chapter 23

Dubrae! So keen the anticipation, Gaius noted to himself, that everybody had forgotten about falling over the end of the world. On the other hand, this might almost be the end of the world. Directly in front was a small harbour, behind which was a small fishing village. On the waterfront, when the fishermen saw this mighty fleet approaching, they dropped whatever they were doing and fled. Not too far away to the left and right, cliffs rose from the sea. As they got closer Gaius noticed that directly in front there was some reasonably flat land that narrowed as it went inwards. To both left and right there were promontories that should have made good observation points for defenders, were any there.

It occurred to Gaius that if he were a Celt and had a reasonable number of troops and some artillery, he would back himself to repel this invasion. The Celts knew exactly where the Romans would land, because they had to land at places other than below vertical cliffs, and where a number of ships could reasonably unload troops on sufficient land that the troops could advance and get out of the road of the troops yet to land. There were only about three such sites, and Rome was using all of them. The act of landing involved the invaders coming ashore slowly and beaching their boats, but not beaching them so firmly that the boats could not immediately put to sea again, which was required if they were to get out of the way of the next boats. This was a very slow exercise, and catapults firing onto the beach would cause chaos for the final thirty meters or so, while out to two or three hundred meters direct hits from the large ballistae would be sufficient to put a hole in most boats. The ballistae could also employ fire bolts, which would also have interesting consequences. The heavily armoured soldier was not going to swim ashore, and if any made it, troops on the shore with long spears would have a significant advantage, with the invaders struggling to even stand up in the surf and the undertow. The artillery on the shore would effectively have free shots, because there was nothing on these boats that could return fire, except perhaps for some archers, and those archers could do nothing to artillery that was properly placed on rises.

As they approached the beach, Gaius saw a small head look out from a hut. He smiled to himself as he saw a pair of arms pull the youngster back in. The mother need not fear. There was no Celtic force that would lead to fighting, and the Roman soldiers were under no illusions. Gaius had made it very clear that any crime against the local civilians would be met with the most severe punishment a Claudian could imagine, and as the last thirty years in Rome had shown, Claudii were not without imagination when it came to punishment.

As Gaius had predicted, the ships arrived shortly after dawn with a tide about to run in. The boats were driven into the beach and the troops rushed onto land. Gaius ordered an immediate march from the leading centuries to secure the high ground to the north of the bay, and as soon as the next wave of boats beached, further centuries were dispatched to secure the southern hill. The soldiers quickly advanced, but there was no opposition. The fourth cohort, when it landed, was sent inland. They marched two miles, then began to set up camp on the flattest available spot. Fortifications were erected, and watches set. This, Gaius realized, was the second most vulnerable period, as a full legion was so large it would take quite some time to get it all in place.

Over the next few days the rest of the legion, its auxiliaries, its equipment and its supplies landed, unopposed. The frantic construction of defensive fortifications later gave rise to a number of rude jokes, for there seemed to be nothing to defend against. The local tribes kept a polite distance, and the Roman soldiers did nothing to antagonize their "allies". In order to keep the locals as allies, Gaius offered to buy fish. The fishermen's eyes lit up when they heard how many were required. A full legion could eat a lot of fish, and "luxurious" food would do a lot for morale. Rations could return to normal once the invasion was well underway.

All went well the first day, and on the second, once the paperwork was completed, Gaius found himself with nothing to do. Again, the last thing the Tribunes would want was his overseeing, so he decided to walk to the inner edge of the camp and view the country they had come to conquer. A slight feeling of unease began to descend on him as he peered out over what was a rather wild scene. A half a mile to the west of the Roman camp on the side of a small hill were three pathetic huts made of old and decaying thatching, from which ragged children emerged from time to time. As he got closer, their lack of nutrition became obvious, but even more so was their lack of attention to hygiene. It was hard to tell when they had last washed, and it looked as if the rags they were dressed in had never been washed. Their expression was surly, and when offered food they grabbed it and pulled away. As far as Gaius could tell, they knew no Latin. The huts were flimsy, and beside one of the huts was a pathetic heap of firewood, far too small to protect them from the winter. There was no obvious sign of a father, which meant there was nobody to get more wood, nobody to get food. Yes, there were poor in Rome too, he knew, but at least it was warmer and drier in Rome. The poor were just a fact of life, and nothing could be done about them.

That was not quite correct, he realized, as if Rebecca was reminding him. He had the power of life and death. He could encourage tribal chieftains to see that such poor were able to live tolerably. It was not as if they would willingly turn him down, for there was nobody to overturn his decisions as to who would be sent to Rome as slaves. And while he was not intent on sending any more than he was ordered to, and allies would not be sent, they did not know that. He would have a word with the local chief. Those children would be fed. Perhaps, he smiled to himself, this walk was achieving something after all.

A little to the right of the huts was a huge tangle of brambles, while to the left was a track, below which was a reedy swamp. Behind the huts was a tangle of vegetation leading to the forest proper. The soldiers would love marching through this, he thought to himself. Narrow tracks, brambles, bogs, this was not the terrain best suited for deploying complex formations.

Nor was it the most desirable territory to conquer. This was a land where poor people scratched a very modest living. Vegetation grew well in the cool temperatures and frequent drizzle, but while wheat and grapes were grown, yields were something of a hit or miss nature, with crops often spoilt by rain or mould. Apart from the tin to west, this was a poor country, and it was far from certain that four legions could be profitably stationed here.

Caratacus and Togodumnus were fools of the first order. They should have sworn loyalty to Rome, and invited the Roman senators to visit, preferably in late winter. One look at these miserable huts, and there would have been no invasion!

The next task was obvious: proper maps were required of the inner regions. He spoke to the chieftains and got what information he could, then he sent exploratores inland, together with local tribesmen who had volunteered their services as guides. He needed as much information as possible on what route he should take to march inland, and on where ambushes would be most likely. This was not going to be easy, but he could get as much information as possible to help him.

* * *

A week passed, during which time the legion became well-prepared to march, but little else happened, other than that a ship arrived with messages from the Princeps for Plautius, and, in addition to other mail, a letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

By now I trust you will have embarked. You had better have embarked, because I believe the Senate will be in open revolt if Claudius cannot get his troops to invade. Little Boots might have manage to get away with collecting seashells, but I assure you, that won't work again.

Poor Claudius! He was so angry when Plautius' request came. He knows that if he went, the troops would laugh at his stuttering and would never embark. Then your letter arrived, so he told me, and he cheered up quite a bit. He still had to rely on Narcissus to convince the men, but I gather the last throw of the die would have been for the twentieth to lead the invasion. I am sure you would have got your men to sail.

On that note, you may tell the soldier whose farm was under threat that he now has a little more land. Claudius sent an agent out to reason with the landowner, and the landowner pulled out a knife and told the agent to get off his land, or else. Claudius also sent some Praetorians who were instructed to demonstrate what "or else" meant following an Imperial order. The landowner was executed for threatening an Imperial agent, and his sons have been conscripted to legions in Mauretania. The land has been confiscated, but a section immediately adjacent to your soldier's farm has been added to that farm. The Centurion let it be known in no uncertain terms that if he had to return to that region to settle the affairs of a loyal Roman soldier, he would be very angry, and he would also be rather unrestrained. I think all the neighbours received the message.

I have followed your advice about the corn however it also occurred to me that maybe corn was stolen, but not by Quintus. He may not know any more about this than we do, so I have arranged for an ex-soldier to go to Egypt and secretly keep an eye on what happens. I hope you don't mind my paying him.

I am afraid poor Polybius seemed to lose self-control. I know he was grieving, but there was nothing he could do, nor, for that matter, could anyone else. However, he refused to continue working properly, he was moping around doing nothing, and eventually he began answering back and becoming a real pain. I don't know what he finally did, but whatever it was it really annoyed Claudius, and he has now been executed. The fact that Claudius is under considerable strain probably didn't help in the slightest.

The one piece of good news is that Vitellius seems to be doing a good job as Consul. I now see what you meant; what I can't understand is how someone with that sense of duty and that ability could go around kissing shoes. I suppose it did endear him to Messalina, and I suppose that might have helped get him the Consular position, but all the same, if that is what is needed, then it seems to me that Rome is in trouble in the long term. I know you feel there might be some great enemy out there, but I rather feel the rot will come from within.

We are all praying to the household Gods to give you luck in your coming battles. I know you will conduct them with skill and flair, but all the same, I am sure it will never hurt to have some luck as well. Win quickly and come home soon.

Your loving Vipsania.

Gaius smiled at the last bit. He would write back and confirm one point: battles were inherently uncertain, and with all the skill in the world you still never knew enough about the enemy, or even what some of your own men would do. It was impossible to have too much luck!

The comment about Plautius' request to Claudius also struck home. Even he had not realized the seriousness of that request at the time. Plautius had done Claudius no favours for Vipsania was correct: Claudius did not look like a General. Men would follow Alexander because he seemed like a God: he never lost. Men would follow Julius because he generally won, and because he looked like a soldier. Poor Claudius did not stand straight, and his stuttering made it look as if he did not know what he was doing. Julius inspired men; Claudius made them laugh at him.

He had just completed writing a reply to Vipsania when a message arrived from Plautius. At last the legions would march inland.

* * *

The forest tracks were narrow, and were going continually up and down, giving lots of vantage points for hit and run attacks. The cohorts would have to march independently, where possible using parallel tracks. If the enemy wanted to make an impression, this was the time to do it, however for the Roman army there was no alternative but to march.

The march commenced with bands of exploratores. Their job was to seek out ambushing Celts and they could be relied on to detect a large force, but small forces could hide some distance from the path and make an attack on the rear of the legion. A few Celtic scouts were seen occasionally by the exploratores, but apart from one ambush on a small group of exploratores these Celts soon melted away into the forest, or fled into the swamps. The exploratores could only follow so far without being lured away from their primary role, and on the occasion that exploratores did pursue into the swamps, they were never seen again. Refusing to pursue was quite unsatisfactory, but there was little alternative if they were to remain as scouts for the following cohorts.

Finally the time arrived for the legion itself to move, and the first cohort began its advance. The track allowed four abreast for most of the time, but there were choke points where it had been agreed a century would spread into the forest on each side and remain stationary to provide flanking protection for the cohort, then these two centuries would combine with their cohort, and the next cohort would use a similar procedure. The legion would take a long time to pass a given point, and it was anything but silent, particularly with all the swearing that accompanied the movement of the artillery over unsuitable terrain. Even though it was partially dismantled, the parts remained very large.

At first nothing happened as the cohorts advanced, but at the second choke point a raid was made on one of the flanking centuries. Five soldiers were killed before the raiders fled back into the forest. The soldiers gave chase, but soon found themselves traversing a bog, and many of the heavily armoured soldiers became virtually immobile. Celts emerged from seemingly nowhere, and their spears found easy targets with the half submerged Romans.

This scene was repeated several times on the first day, until the legion emerged into more open territory and made camp for the first day. Gaius reviewed the day's march, and gave orders thereafter that flanking centuries were there for protection of the main body of soldiers, and once in place they should fix what defensive fortifications they could, and thereafter simply defend. Pursuit into the forest was banned.

While this was not greeted with complete enthusiasm, Gaius was quite happy. There had been attacks, but they seemed to have been from very small groups, and while in their own way they had been effective, their lack of numbers meant that they were more an irritant than a significant effect. There was little doubt that the Celt's best strategy would be to launch a very large number of small, concentrated raids at given sections of the legion, particularly in the darker parts of the forest, but in the event nothing like that eventuated. Despite the Romans having been there for nearly two weeks, no serious opposition had been mounted. Seemingly the Britons did not care, or perhaps they had been away harvesting, as Gaius had predicted. If that were the case, Gaius noted wryly, Plautius' natural caution and his almost pathological aversion to rapid if risky action would have cost the Romans some very easy gains.

A further theory amongst the Tribunes was that the Britons assumed this was another invasion in the style of Julius, and sooner or later the Romans would tire of the local climate and return home. That would not happen this time, because the reason for the invasion was different. The stability of the Principate depended on success, so Rome would succeed or fail, but it would not withdraw the legions.

The next few days were very similar in nature. Progress was slow, the country a strange mixture of forest and swamp in which the enemy was the land itself. Nobody could keep dry or free of biting insects. The Celts continued with a number of hit and run raids, but the land was now more open, the tracks wider, the Roman forces more concentrated, and there was almost enough room to deploy cavalry. There was the odd Roman soldier wounded, but the Celts now found that fighting concentrated forces and cavalry with small squads was far from profitable. The raids tended to be brief, spears were thrown, and the Celts, whose raiding parties were so greatly outnumbered they could not continue an attack for more than a few minutes, disappeared. The Celts did not seem to have either a coordinated defence or any form of harassing strategy that involved numbers.

Chapter 24

It was mid-afternoon when Gaius was called to a hilltop. He viewed the scene below with puzzlement as all he could see was a village protected by wooden palisades in the valley below. Why did this need two legions? He had been marching westwards when he had received Plautius' orders to wheel north and give assistance, but what was the problem? To the north, the fourteenth was already making camp, and a messenger from the fourteenth was riding towards him. It appeared that the fourteenth has arrived the previous morning, Plautius had demanded that the Celts in the town below surrender, and there had been no response other than that the gate remained closed. Plautius had ordered the legions to camp, and prepare for a siege, and then he called for the twentieth to act as reinforcements. Gaius could barely believe what he was hearing. Talk about cautious! This village should provide little or no problem for a few cohorts, and in principle a hole was opening between Plautius and the Augusta. Still, Plautius was the commander, so he acknowledged the order, and ordered the twentieth to form a defensive camp. Soon the soldiers were once again digging ditches, raising mounds, building protective enclosures, but most importantly, building ramps.

The town had been built more for access to water, and to be central to the more easily farmed land about it than for defence. Certainly the town walls would have offered adequate protection against other Celts, but they would offer no impediment to the two visible Roman legions. Gaius was quite convinced he could take this town eventually with the first cohort of his legion.

In the event, on the following morning the town offered little in the way of problems. Ramps were wheeled up and the Roman soldiers, shields locked into testudo formation, marched forward into a rather feeble shower of arrows. Before long the soldiers were at the top of the ramp, and soon they were inside. Within half an hour, the main gate was opened, and the senior officers rode in.

Celtic bodies were strewn here and there, women were wailing over them, ragged muddy children were running all over the place, crying. These children were poor right now, and things would get worse before they got better. For those whose fathers were lying against the wooden walls, their future would be bleak.

Gaius rode along the muddy street, watching the surly expressions on some, the downcast on others. This town had allied itself with Togodumnus; that had seemed a good idea a year ago, but now it was less so. Now they would be handed over to the control of whatever British prince they had asked Togodumnus to protect them from, and they knew what would happen next. They would be sold as slaves to the Romans, as part of that prince's tribute. At least they would eat better as slaves.

He rode another couple of paces, then paused as a thought struck him. He could almost hear Timothy's voice saying, "Suppose you were born here. Would you wish to be a slave?"

No, life was not fair, but that was hardly his fault. If you were lucky enough to be born a Claudian, you might as well take advantage. He jogged his horse.

'Go ahead! Take advantage of this miserable lot!" a voice said in the back of his head.

He stopped again. No. Life was not fair, but perhaps that was no reason not to be generous. Even the great Julius, one of the most self-centred leaders ever, a man who had started a decade of war, who had killed hundreds of thousands and pillaged Gaul and who had even ordered the decimation of one of his own legions, all for no other reason than to enhance his own political stature, had, besides eventually rescinding the order and merely executing a couple of dozen, been generous to the occupied when it suited his political aims.

His family had stood against dictators, and for what? Not for the political gains, because they had clearly missed out on those, but because they believed the poorer Roman deserved a better chance.

The least he could do was to offer these miserable people a chance. He nudged is horse's flanks and rode to the town centre. He paused in front of a small group of Celtic leaders, forced to stand against a wall of the largest building by a small group of Roman soldiers. Gaius looked around. There was no sign of Plautius. Gaius indicated to the soldiers they should step back. The soldiers, from the fourteenth, almost looked as if they wished to query Gaius, but one imperious frown sent them away.

"You!" Gaius said softly but firmly to a Celt who, judging by his clothing, seemed to have been of a higher status than most of the rest, "have a choice to make, and I suggest you make it very quickly."

Sullen, defiant looks came back.

"You can view yourselves as conquered or as liberated," Gaius continued. "If you view yourselves as conquered, Rome will take its tribute, take the troublesome ones away as slaves, take some others away as slaves, and you will feel conquered."

He paused to let this sink in, then he continued, "On the other hand, you can consider yourselves liberated. You can immediately pledge your loyalty to Rome, and offer to pay Roman taxes. Then you live as Roman subjects on your land, receiving the benefits of Roman taxes."

"Benefits?" one scowled.

"The presence of the Roman soldier," Gaius said dismissively, as if this attempt to assert independence bordered on the pathetic. "Now, get this into your heads quickly," Gaius continued. "The two scenarios are very similar. In both of them you pay Rome for the trouble of being here, and in both of them you get the Roman soldier. The difference is whether you live as free citizens in your own house, protected by the Roman soldier, or whether you are sold as slaves or killed by those very same soldiers. Choose quickly, because when the new governor gets here, you may not get to choose."

"How do we know he won't enslave us anyway?"

"You don't," Gaius said coldly, "except I say he won't."

"We haven't got any money. It was all taken by Togodumnus."

"Then pay in food. There're still good crops out there."

"You Romans will. ."

"Protect them," Gaius said simply. He stared at them, then said, "Believe me, swear loyalty to Rome and I will see that whoever pillages your crops or your houses will get a gladius through the ribs, or if the pillaging involves more than theft, he'll get the three nails."

They stared at each other, then one man stepped forward, and said he would swear loyalty. Before long the others joined in.

"Excellent choice," Gaius smiled, "although strictly speaking, your future Governor has to formally accept. Now, if I can give you some advice, when Plautius comes, make sure you remember to thank him profusely for rescuing your tribe from the pillaging Togodumnus. The more you let him know about the pillage, the lower the taxes are likely to be, at least right away." He turned and signalled for a couple of messengers, to ensure that word of the offer of loyalty and allegiance to Rome was spread quickly. Then he rode to Plautius, who was still to enter the town.

"A straightforward victory," Plautius nodded towards him.

"Indeed it was, although perhaps the resistance was not exactly enthusiastic. I've been into the town. The chiefs wish to offer their allegiance to Rome. Since the Princeps himself has ordered that this be encouraged, I provisionally accepted, but of course informed them that only you can set the terms."

Plautius stared at him, then nodded and said, "Then I had better go and set them."

"If I can make a suggestion?"

Plautius stared distastefully at Gaius. Clearly, Plautius did not appreciate those below him usurping his authority. On the other hand, since his junior appeared to get on well with Claudius, it would not be a good idea to deliberately refuse to follow Claudius' orders. "Well?" he said at last.

"There're good crops in the fields," Gaius replied, "and the grain looks as if it should already be harvested. If you look at those clouds, I've got this feeling it may be raining tomorrow, in which case those crops'll be spoiled. Besides good will, the only taxes this miserable lot are likely to be able to pay is in food, and I think we should goad them into harvesting."

Plautius looked at him in surprise. This was an eminently practical suggestion, and he had to admit he knew so little about grain he could not have appreciated this. "You've had time to examine the fields?" he asked with a slight smile.

"It's the shade of the heads," Gaius replied, improvising as he went along. "I could be wrong, but if serious rain set in, I think black mould'll be a real problem."

"Then follow me," Plautius nodded. "We shall put the Celts to work."

When they reached the town centre the town leaders prostrated themselves, and swore on. . Plautius sat there impassively, then when the pleadings and swearings finally ended, said, "A test of your professed loyalty! Last year, how much of your crops did you lose to theft, or tribute?"

There was a stunned silence, and across their faces were the signs of devious thoughts, the calculations of what they thought they could get away with, if they could work out why Plautius needed to know.

"Tell me the truth, or else." Plautius warned. "If it doesn't make sense, I'll cut off some heads right now."

One of the more juniors panicked. He was not going to be executed in support of some scheme to benefit one of these chiefs. He gave a rough account of what went where.

Plautius stared at the man, then decided this was probably reasonably true. "Then if your people get out and harvest the crops right now, Rome will take half of what you previously lost. Sit on your arses, and remember, Rome's taxes come first."

It was not clear what the chiefs thought, but the crowd that had gathered around knew what to do.

Gaius was just about to ride off to attend to some of the general administrative matters that went with the command of a legion when a thought passed through the back of his mind. It was almost as if Rebecca was interpreting those actions as showing that his heart had been touched, and of his own intuitive desire to follow The Way.

* * *

The next day the legion marched onwards, again at some distance from the fourteenth. More forest, more swamp, then an area of meadow. The legion was about half way across this when, out of the forest before them, a large party of Dobunni appeared, and their leaders began riding rapidly towards the legion. Immediately the Romans formed a defensive pattern, but just as the riders came closer, their purpose became clearer: they surrendered. This gave rise to much mirth amongst the men: these Celts could claim a record for the fastest surrenderers in the west! A few quick words, however, and Gaius knew better. The tribe had had fair relations with Cunobelinus, but the chief had got into bad terms with Togodumnus, and after a dispute in which Togodumnus claimed considerable land the Dobunni felt was theirs, Togodumnus now demanded that all Dobunni men of an age able to bear arms present themselves to fight the Romans. As the chief said to Gaius, he had no intention of having many of his men killed by the Romans so that he could have his land stolen by Togodumnus. Further, word of what had happened in the town behind them had spread, and if he were about to live under Roman rule, there was little point in having half his men killed first.

Gaius assured the chief that as long as he swore loyalty to Rome, there was no way Togodumnus would take his land. Word of the surrender was sent to Plautius, and Gaius proposed that the Dobunni proceed to the town they had just left. A messenger was sent informing the townsfolk that they should feed this party, and allowance would be made for taxes due. Then as the Dobunni party left, the legion marched on, following the local paths that once again took them northwards until later that afternoon they reached an escarpment.

A small river lazily flowed across the scene, until it reached a broad estuary that, because of the lower tides, was little better than a mudflat on which seagulls were walking. The riverbanks were marshy, but on either side much of the land had been cleared, and there were small farms scattered across the cleared land, each with their wooden thatched hut, their little smoky fire, and the animals scattered around. As the land rose in the distance, there was more forest, with scattered clearings, and, judging by the occasional smoke, the odd forester's hut. Immediately before them, on the opposite side of the river, was a walled town, and judging by the number of armed men and horses, the Celts had decided to make a stand there.

The fortifications were on a small hill; the approach from upstream and to the west was reasonably flat, and that approach was protected by a large ditch dug just outside the walls. On the riverside, and downstream, a moderately steep slope fell away from the walls to the river flat below, where the Celts had also built a large ditch.

A casual glance at the Celts showed that they had yet to realize the seriousness of their situation. They were doing very little; clearly they believed that the river would be a major obstacle to the Romans. They had much to learn about Rome. Gaius glanced to his right, and saw the leaders of the fourteenth viewing exactly the same scene. Mirror signals confirmed the nature of the plan Plautius wished to follow. Gaius sent a confirmatory signal, then he marched his legion towards the riverbank, in full view of the Celts. Since it was late afternoon, the Romans were beginning to establish a camp. The Celts clearly thought they were safe, as no patrols were set.

A messenger approached Gaius. This town was regarded by Plautius as important. Apparently Caratacus had heard of the intention to set up Cogidumnus as a client king, and he had sent a very sizable war party down to inflict damage and persuade that tribe not to do so. However, he had been late, and the Augusta had caught them and there had been a major battle. The Celtic war party had fled, and most of its soldiers were now in this fortified town.

The next morning the soldiers of the fourteenth were busy as only Roman soldiers could be busy. Trees were chopped down, and what were clearly pontoons and bridge sections were constructed and stood on the bank. The job of the fourteenth was to make it look as if the basic plan was to launch a frontal attack across the river. The twentieth was doing something similar upstream, also in view of the Celts, however Gaius also sent three cohorts under the command of Falco upstream, where they would cross the river out of sight of the Celts. Thus while on the eastern side of the river everything seemed chaotic, the following day was designated for the attack. Gaius also called Lupus to his tent, and told him that he would have the honour of leading the river crossing. He was pleased to see that Lupus, while recognizing the seriousness of the orders and the risks, was also pleased that he had been chosen, and he promised that his cohorts would secure a position on the other side of the river.

Before first light, Plautius despatched his Batavians. These soldiers were able to swim rivers fully armed, and when they emerged on the other side, their arrival was unseen by the Britons. They crept to the rear of the enemy camp, and in the early light of predawn they set about disabling or stealing the horses. Without horses, the Celtic chariots were useless. Not that this land was ideal for chariot deployment.

Across the river, Gaius smiled when he heard the cries from the furious Celts. A number of them immediately began chasing horses, Batavians, anything. That lack of discipline would always tell against them. Of course they could chase the Batavians, and at first sight this seemed a cost-free option of exacting some cost from the Romans. It was not.

The previous night a cohort under the command of Gaius Hosidius Geta had made a night crossing near the river mouth. Now was the time to emerge. Plautius had ordered it to provide a further distraction to allow the Batavians to get further away, but Geta did more, by launching his small force at the rear of the pursuers. Suddenly the chasers found themselves isolated, dispersed, and caught in a pincer between the two small forces. The angry Celts flung themselves furiously on the Romans, but after the first blows they found themselves being driven relentlessly backwards by the shield wall. The angry Celtic battle cries gradually gave way to Celtic swearing, and cries of Celtic pain as the hob-nailed Roman boots were driven brutally into the ribs of Celtic wounded lying on the ground.

A further detachment of Celts emerged from the main fort, and rushed to help. Geta ordered the horn blast, and apart from the line immediately fighting Celts, his whole cohort reversed, and drove into the new attackers. Someone in the Celtic camp must have decided that this fighting in the open was fruitless, and a Celtic retreat was ordered.

The Celts turned and, with varying degrees of speed, retreated. Geta's men pursued as fast as they could, back-stabbing the slow, until they reached the first of the fortified gates, which were slammed shut just before the last of the Celts could regain safety. As the sounds of reinforcing beams could be heard being placed into position to hold the gates, the few remaining Celts had to face the charging Romans.

Without thinking, the front line of the Romans charged the Celts, only to be struck by a barrage of huge rocks from above. Quickly the order was given to lock shields above, but now the small Celtic party surprised by attacking, swinging their large heavy swords at the Roman legs. Blow after blow landed, and Romans began fall to the ground, legs bleeding profusely.

Then suddenly another band of Celts emerged from another gate, and launched themselves furiously on the Romans. Even Geta himself had to take a sword and shield and personally join the line. He signalled the retreat, and gradually the cohort pulled back from the wall. As they got further away, those behind the wall could only help their comrades with arrows. Still the blows were traded, and since the Romans could not force the Celts with their shields for fear of the arrows, the Roman losses were still significant.

Then the Celtic commander ordered the retreat. The Romans did not attempt to follow. As Gaius was to remark later, this was a significant lost opportunity for the Celts; if they did not feel confident of defeating one cohort that was clearly in trouble, there was not much point in attempting to fight two legions.

It was now time for the twentieth to make a more public and direct crossing. Gaius sat on his horse on a rise as he watched Lupus marshal his troops onto the rafts that had been made the previous evening, and cross in full view. The Celts saw the rafts and began hurling insults. As an attack, this seemed destined to fail, and the Celts became more derisive by the minute, particularly as the rafts apparently could not even keep on the proper course, but instead seemed to be drifting downstream of the main camp. Then, just as the Celts began to hurl their first spears, a horn signal could be heard.

From the rear of the Celt's camp, fearful yells could be heard and the Celts turned to see the first advance of Falco's men. Meanwhile, Geta's men had reformed, and were marching to cut off attempts at fleeing from the fortifications. Now, the Celts found that instead of defending behind a river the opposition had to cross, they were encircled by the Romans. In the general confusion, the Celts seemed not to notice that the rafts had now purposefully driven into some marshes.

At first Gaius had a sinking feeling that he had misjudged, for the men began jumping off rafts. He felt so helpless, being on the wrong side of the river. He should be there, where he could. . But no, he realized that he had to trust the Centurions and Lupus. He was not essential everywhere, and he was too valuable to risk being killed on a failed landing. Not that it would fail, but there had to be the possibility of failure. All he could do was watch, as the soldiers with their heavy armour quickly began floundering in the deep mud, and as they tripped over reeds it became almost impossible to maintain their shields in locked formation. It was then that he saw Lupus quickly grab a long pole and push for all he was worth; his raft continued, and when two legionnaires saw what he was doing they grabbed the pole from him. With muscles straining they pushed, driving the raft closer to the ground, other soldiers using their shields to form a protective wall.

But eventually the raft could go no further. An Optio more experienced with marshes leaped forward, shield ahead, and advanced with the slow stride that made it easier to stay on his feet. The men followed, several falling flat on their faces as they tried to catch up. The Optio turned and called for the men to do what he was doing, then he fell back, to allow the shields to advance and for the protective wall to form. But as men fell into muddy holes, the long shield became a hindrance, and while they were struggling, Britons would appear from nowhere, throw spears, then disappear equally quickly.

But for all the cursing and all the swearing, and despite the moans of the wounded, the wall of shields made dry ground, to be greeted by a charge of Britons carrying huge lances. The attack faltered as wave after wave of Celts beat down on the wall of shields. All Gaius could do was to hold his breath and watch.

"Hold firm!" Lupus called from behind. He rounded up some of the stragglers who had fallen in the mud and sent them forward to those parts of the line most in need of reinforcement. Soldiers were dying, and many in the line were bleeding, but it was imperative that they held. If this line was defeated, the attack could fail.

Then the rafts brought a second load of men. These, not directly under fire themselves, found disembarking easier and were brought up to form a second line. Still the battle continued ahead. As the first line began to falter, Lupus ordered the horn.

It was here that Roman drill prevailed. The front line of Romans stepped back, and as if by magic they were immediately replaced by a fresh line that drove forward relentlessly. The front line of the Celts, tired from the continuous fighting, could not quite deal with fresh men, and they began to fall under the relentless stabbing from behind the slowly advancing wall of shields. The line advanced about four yards before the Celts sorted themselves out and fresh men entered the fray. Once again the Roman line was held, and a fierce exchange was underway, neither side giving ground, while bodies continued to pile up.

The third load of soldiers arrived, and these immediately took their place at the front of the lines. The fighting was up-hill, which was tiring, but the fresh legs helped. The Celts, needing more room to swing their longer weapons, had to give ground, but when they did so the Romans closed the gap. Slowly but remorselessly, the Romans worked their way forward, as yet further loads of soldiers disembarked. Meanwhile the Centurions had arranged for the wounded to be treated and they were now reorganizing those who had been the first to land into fighting units. As these rejoined the battle, and as even more of the Legion landed, the crossing could not now be repelled by the number of Celts that were outside the fortifications. Now would not be a good time to send reinforcements. If they had more men available, they should have been used while the Romans were more vulnerable. The advance now began to gather momentum, and Celts at the rear, fearing a collapse, began to peel off and make their way inside the fortifications.

The Roman advance had at last secured a landing position. Now, Gaius decided, it was time for him to cross. He joined some troops on the next raft, and noticed that the soldiers were somewhat more enthusiastic with their use of their poles. They were not going to let their commander see them lacking in enthusiasm for getting to the other side. As they reached the far bank, instead of jumping off and wading, they rammed the raft against a more solid weed bank. Gaius was about to jump off, but the most recently promoted Optio ordered the soldiers to help their commander off. Gaius was a little embarrassed to be carried over the marsh, but he thanked the soldiers and gave an acknowledging smile to the Optio, then, with shield at the ready to avoid arrows, he made his way to congratulate Lupus on having done a good job, following which he took formal command.

The Roman advance continued remorselessly until they reached a defensive ditch. Gaius immediately called a halt to the advance, the ditch now becoming a boundary between the two sides. Fortifications were set up, and Gaius ordered that the remaining fighting units of the legion be brought over as quickly as possible, and that wooden "bridges" be made for the ditches.

On the far side of the encampment, Geta occupied the obvious line of retreat, and Falco's men had marched forwards to a corresponding ditch on the opposite side of the camp. As Gaius noted to Timothy later, the Britons made a great mistake when they seemed content to defend their camp. Their best option would have been to launch a furious counterattack on the twentieth. With the legion split, and those on the west bank tired and beginning to build fortifications everything should have been thrown against it. If they could not defeat half a legion stuck in the mud and without room to manoeuvre, they might as well surrender.

But they did not. Seemingly they could not see that their defensive strategy could only prevail by buying them their opportunity to attack on their terms, and possibly the only real opportunity to make a significant impact on the Roman forces evaporated with the sun on the following morning.

Then, when lines were formed and the Britons would not attack, Gaius ordered the bridges brought to the ditch where they were stood on their ends, then pushed forward. At the same moment, those on the other side of the camp stormed across the ditches before them. Before any of the Britons could even form a plan, Romans poured across the ditches on their improvised bridges, and began wheeling ramps up to the walls.

The Britons were struck by indecision. The attack from the rear was the most dangerous, but the men of the twentieth on the river side would be easier to defeat, as they were forced to climb this rather steep hill. However, as these men of the twentieth formed their wedges to advance from the bridges, the Celts lost any chance to take the initiative, and they were forced to defend their walls. Again the heavy hand to hand fighting resumed, but this time the Romans advanced more quickly.

Then, from the remaining side, Geta's men, supported by the Batavians, had formed a flying wedge and had charged directly at that part of the camp holding the stores. He took this quickly, and immediately lit a fire, the smoke from which rolled towards the lines of Britons.

With their camp on fire, despair struck the Britons, and in a desperate move, they charged out between Geta's and Falco's men, and fled to the northwest. The Romans pursued, and Roman archers had great success firing into the unprotected backs, but those that survived the initial volleys were soon out of range, and the much more heavily armoured infantrymen could not easily keep up. The Britons then ran into yet another marsh, and again the Romans pursued unsuccessfully, partly because the cavalry was still on the wrong side of the river. The Britons knew the tracks, and seemed able to run on what firmer ground there was, while the Romans seemed destined to blunder into holes of mud. When they did, Celts would reappear from the reeds, and many Romans fell to spears while floundering waste-high in mud.

Guessing what was happening, Gaius ordered an immediate horn signal for the soldiers to return and consolidate.

The victory was complete, as far as it went. The land was now under Roman control up to the next river, the Thames. However, it appeared that the enemy, apparently under the command of Caratacus himself, had seen the inevitability of defeat. Since his force was largely the badly mauled remains of the raiding party that had been too small to defeat Vespasian's one legion previously, when he saw two legions he had sent most of his troops away the night previous to the battle. Those that had remained were to buy as much time as they could, then to flee into the marshes.

Gaius had to acknowledge that as an enemy Caratacus appeared to know what he was doing. His problem was, and would always be, he did not have sufficient strength to destroy the legions. He could not win while the enemy remained on the field, and this time the Roman army was not there for the summer, and it was not in the business of collecting shells. This time the Roman army intended to add Britain, or at least parts of it, to the empire.

Caratacus had three options; he could surrender, he could flee to whatever part of Britain Rome did not occupy, or he could fight Rome. If he chose to surrender, his future would be that of a slave. Gaius could understand his not wishing that. If he fled, his fellow Celts were as likely as not to sell him to the Romans, so that was not much of an option. If he fought, either he had to defeat four legions of professional soldiers or he had to make the Roman occupation so costly that Rome would leave. He simply did not have the resources to defeat Rome, and unfortunately for Caratacus, it was his lands that were the more economically well developed, and it was his lands that Rome had to conquer first, simply because they were the closest.

For Caratacus, defeat was inevitable. The only issue was what form it would take, and how many men would die before he admitted it.

* * *

For once, Gaius had to admit, Plautius did not waste time. The legions immediately drove forward towards the River Thames. The Britons apparently considered this to be a particularly effective natural obstacle, but Plautius immediately commandeered every boat he could, then the armies marched upstream until the river was sufficiently narrow.

Again the Batavians swam across the river and fought to secure a small landing area. A bridge was made by tying boats together, and the Roman troops marched over, the twentieth leading the way. Gaius felt rather pleased with himself, for now he had his first real opportunity to test his split cohort approach, and the enemy was insufficiently well organized to take advantage of any mistakes.

In the event, nothing was proved. The Britons elected not to defend the multiple village attacks, but rather to fall back to camp north of what would later be Londinium. As Gaius remarked later, that was another one of the rare opportunities lost for the Celts to shine. A river crossing was always dangerous because there was always a period when there were insufficient troops across to guarantee victory against a determined attack, but too many across to be able to afford the losses. The Celts had the home advantage; they knew the land and could count on a good supply of information on what the Romans were up to. If they refused to make some sort of peace treaty, their best chance was to take full toll of the inevitable times when Roman forces were split and at natural disadvantage. As it was, the two legions camped and consolidated their position across the river a little upstream from the Celts, who presented little opposition.

Once all repairs to equipment were complete and the legions rested, Plautius called his commanders together. They would attack the following morning, according to the following deployments. .

* * *

At first light, with fog still on the ground, the Gemina Martia began its advance on the Celtic camp while the twentieth wheeled to the north to cut off reinforcements or escape routes. To cover a broader front, Gaius split his legion into its three cohort groups. This decision had unexpected consequences.

It was unclear to Gaius what actually happened, as the main action occurred elsewhere, and the remains of the fog prevented a clear view. What appeared to happen was that the Britons elected to try a flanking counterattack on the advancing twentieth, making use of the fog. Scouts for the initial deployment found the central cohort group without being detected, and the British chief, believing that he had located the legion, began a flanking manoeuvre by advancing to his right. In doing so, he unsuspectingly ran across the face of Gaius' left flanking division.

Falco immediately decided to launch an attack into the British flank to exploit the clear advantage of surprise. The surprise was complete, and the Celts only realized that the separate Roman unit was there when lances began striking very surprised Celts. The Celtic leader immediately turned and led a charge to give his infantry time to organize themselves. Just as his charge was approaching the Roman infantry, however, Roman cavalry from Matius' central cohort group appeared, and launched a counter charge into his other flank. In the resultant confusion, the Celtic leader was unhorsed, and was inevitably killed. With the counter charge a total failure, and without a leader, the Britons lost all order and men peeled off to flee northwards. Within minutes of the Celtic counter charge commencing, a general rout of the Britons ensued.

It was discovered shortly later that the body of the British leader was that of Togodumnus, brother to Caratacus. Dismayed by this loss, the Britons abandoned their position and fled to Camulodunum.

Caratacus' response was that of simple anger. He ordered raid after raid on Roman positions, supplies, anything, and swore that the Britons would avenge his brother's death. Plautius' response was one of caution. He sent for more reinforcements, and for the Princeps.

"What the hell's wrong with the man?" the Legatus of the fourteenth swore, as he took another swig of wine. "He's got no balls!"

"He wants to advance," Gaius offered.

"You do that by marching forward."

"You advance by giving the Princeps what he wants," Gaius countered.

"There is that sort of advancement," the Legate nodded.

"We've got a new province. My guess is that Plautius is hoping Claudius will come, win, and leave him as governor."

"That could happen," the Legate nodded, then added with a grin that did not entirely hide the undertones, "I can see we'll have to watch out for you."

Chapter 25

After weeks during which the weather had seemed ideal for campaigning, it finally began to close in. A wind sprang up, and heavy oppressive dark grey clouds appeared at the same time that the boats carrying the Hispana arrived. The wind had begun to take effect, the triremes were rocking and looking anything but seaworthy, but they had to sit there, waiting for their turn to beach. Cargoes and men had to be unloaded quickly, to make room for the others. The two Legates were watching from a rise, prepared to quietly applaud good moves, but in practice laughing as small disasters that they had predicted came to occur. They had been through this, and there was nothing that cheered them up more than seeing someone else in deep confusion. It was a good thing the other legions were there because the Celts could make a meal of this landing.

"Actually," Gaius muttered, "if I were a Celtic commander, I would have backed myself to repel any of the other landings."

"True," the Legate of the fourteenth shrugged, "but that needn't stop us from having their Legate on."

"Most certainly not," Gaius grinned, then added, "And this is where it gets better. Judging by its size, if not its sea-worthiness, there is the imperial ship."

"And here comes the rain," the Legate of the fourteenth remarked. "All those pansy Praetorians are going to get their nice clean uniforms covered in British mud."

Two triremes beached, and Praetorians leaped enthusiastically overboard. They ordered their bodies forward but their feet were firmly stuck in the mud. Howls of laughter greeted them as they struggled back to their feet.

"I suppose, in principle at least," the Legate of the fourteenth said, without conviction, "we should order our men to stop making fun of the Praetorians." He thought for a moment, then growled, "Bugger that principle."

Soon the mud-covered Praetorians stopped helping to land goods and noticed the rain was now coming down in a fashion that suggested it intended to stay. Now, belatedly, they realized they had to put up the Imperial tent.

"A little more forethought, and perhaps a glance at the skies, and they would have done this first, while the ground was still dry," Gaius noted.

"All I can say is I hope they fight better than they put up tents," the Legate of the fourteenth grunted, as the wind caught a flap on their first effort, and almost broke completely free. It was held mainly by a muddy Praetorian jumping on it.

"I think he's in luck," Gaius noted. "That's the back part of the tent, and Caesar's hardly likely to go around there in the rain."

"Even the Princeps has to piss!"

"Hopefully not just upwind of his tent, though," Gaius shrugged.

"Hopefully not," the Legate of the fourteenth noted. "Oh dear, look at this!" He pointed to a new trireme just arriving and trying to unload. It was rocking dramatically, and men were trying to do something, although exactly what was unclear.

"I bet that's a bloody elephant!" the Legate of the fourteenth grumbled.

"No takers," Gaius replied. "In fact, I'll tell you what. I'm prepared to bet that there'll be thunder before the elephants are unloaded," he added as he looked up at the increasingly ominous skies.

"No takers," came the immediate reply.

Gradually, the predictions came to pass. Somehow an elephant emerged from the trireme, and somehow it landed in the mud on its feet, and to everyone's relief, its sheer power enabled it to walk to the shore. It was, however, a rather grumpy animal, and it was not entirely pleased with the cold wind. However, when it saw the immense heap of hay, it became less agitated.

Four elephants were landed safely, and the fifth was at the side of a trireme when the inevitable thunder came. The elephant leaped, the trireme almost sank, but somehow all was well. The mud was sufficient to at least slow an elephant, and by the time it reached the bank, it was sufficiently calmed when it saw the other elephants and the hay. Gradually more barges arrived and more elephants were unloaded. The Legates were about to go back to their legions when a runner appeared, who brought a message from Claudius to inform the legions that since the weather was so bad there would be no need for a formal welcoming ceremony, although he would like to see the Legates individually in his tent. A very large number of senators and so on had also arrived from Rome, and would presumably wish to have assistance in putting up tents, and moving property. Claudius had left instructions that each of the legions should contribute equally, and should charge for their services according to the scale he had nominated. All such money would go to the invalid soldiers fund, and all enquiries should go through each legion's camp Prefect.

"Surprisingly efficient," the Legate from the fourteenth muttered.

"Claudius learned from the best," Gaius remarked, and when he saw the puzzled looks, "Claudius frequently helped Augustus with the paper work." Then when he saw even more puzzled looks, he added, "That kept him out of Livia's sights, and that helped keep him alive."

"I can see that would be an incentive for keeping amongst the scrolls."

"We can do him a favour," Gaius added, and when he got the inquisitive looks in response, he continued, "Make sure the men know the reason they're not on parade for the next few hours is because Claudius has their interests at heart. It might make them cheer with more enthusiasm later on."

"The men of the Gemina will cheer," The Legate of the fourteenth grunted, "but I take your point."

At this point the two men got up, wrapped their cloaks more tightly, and marched off towards their tents.

* * *

"S so we m meet again!"

"I am honoured, Princeps."

"Y you must advise me."

"On what?" Gaius asked in surprise.

"Wh what you think sh should happen next." Claudius seemed even more excited, and his stammer became worse. "S S Senators h have c c come to watch!" he explained.

"Of course," Gaius nodded.

"Th they're n n not very impressed w with the elephants," Claudius said, his face somewhat downcast. "Th they've b b been talking t to V Vespasian b b before coming here, and V v Vespasian says th they're m m more trouble than they're worth. And h he says we've wasted time. W we should g g get on with it, g g go and face them, b b before it g gets harder. Th the senators seem to agree."

"As a general rule," Gaius nodded, "Vespasian is correct. Elephants have always been more trouble to the attackers than the attacked after Scipio."

"Oh," Claudius said, his voice downcast. "C c can't we even f f find a small use f f for them?"

"We can do better than that," Gaius grinned. "Most great commanders put their mark on the battle by finding the proper way to use something, or the fatal flaw in the opponents' use of something. Here is your chance to demonstrate the correct use of elephants, and show up the senators as a bunch of military nincompoops."

"I knew I c c could rely on you!" Claudius smiled with relief. "I kn know I'm n n not much of a g g g eneral, but. ."

"But Rome needs to think you are," Gaius nodded back. "What you should do, in my opinion, is to get the senators to publicly declare their position, then you say you can do better than that. Now, I've had a map drawn up. Our scouts assure me this is accurate. I shall tell you what I would do." He then outlined the strategic situation as he saw it.

"As I understand the position," Gaius concluded, "the senators think you should get out there and storm Camulodunum. Tell the senators that would be bloody and difficult, and while Rome would prevail, you would like to try to achieve victory with a minimum of losses of Roman life. Tell the troops as well, and watch the senators climb down.

"Now, I would never go straight to Camulodunum," Gaius continued. "There are a number of villages scattered around here," and he pointed to the map, "and I would suggest that instead of advancing directly on Camulodunum, you take care of some of these, and don't use the elephants. This will isolate Camulodunum and break the back of the Catuvellauni before you have to deal with Caratacus. Also, you may be able to take advantage of Caratacus' temper."

"H h h how so?" Claudius asked excitedly.

"When he loses something, he seems to lash out without thinking. Also, his troops will have relations and property in those villages, and they'll be uncontrollable. Either Caratacus will have to use them, or they'll desert. With any sort of luck once he sees his troops dispersing and his kingdom disintegrating before his eyes he'll come out and fight. That will save us having to lay siege to his capital."

"I th thought you said he should t take the initiative?" Claudius asked in a puzzled tone.

"Taking the initiative means finding a perceived weakness and working on it," Gaius responded. "Marching out to meet the enemy head-on merely means you've decided to turn up and get on with it."

"And if w we have t to lay siege?"

"Sometimes you can't help it," Gaius shrugged. "If the enemy won't make a mistake, you then have to go out and fight it out, because you have to defeat him sooner or later. But we might as well give Caratacus every opportunity to go wrong."

"Very g good," Claudius nodded, "Th then we advance?"

"Yes," Gaius said. "There's an open area here, the city's there," he said, marking on a map, "and it's got what's described as a river behind it, but it is more like a sluggish stream, from what I gather, with swamp around it in lots of places. Whatever you call it, although the Celts could in principle retreat over there, it gets them nowhere, and effectively that direction is useless. There's a swamp to the north, which leads to the river, and to be fair might be an escape route for them, but nobody can fight there, and similarly there's a massive tangle of brambles, shrubs and small trees to the south, which is effectively impenetrable. That means we have to march up from the west."

"Th that's what V V Vespasian said in a l letter t to me."

"The Celt's weakness," Gaius continued, "is that the town is made almost entirely of wood. Send a message to Caratacus that we're coming, and we'll bring our catapults up from the west, and we won't lay siege, but simply burn their town to the ground and roast the lot of them if they don't surrender. If they do surrender, no lives will be lost."

"W won't they f fortify outside the town?" Claudius asked. "V Vespasian says that b b because of the time we've wasted, th th they'll b be d doing that already."

"And that's where we build up Claudius as a great military commander," Gaius grinned. "Everybody else is criticizing you for allowing them to do what you really want them to do, and are encouraging them for all you're worth to do it."

In response to Claudius' look, Gaius continued, "This is where the elephants come in. Everybody assumes the southern thicket is impenetrable, and in the normal course of events they'd be right. But elephants will get through that with no trouble, and make tracks for other troops. What happens is that you will start the frontal attack with the artillery, then you march your troops up to where the archers can get their arrows into the fortified position. The Celts will believe that is where the attack is coming from, because they can see it. However the real attack comes from the left rear, the elephants carving out the way. My guess is that with no fortifications in that direction, with elephants and a legion coming from a direction for which they have no preplanned defence, the Celts will simply give up. Those in the centre or right will quickly realize that the battle's lost, and they'll run as fast as they can while they still can. Instead of a bloodbath of attrition, it could end up a strategic rout."

"I kn knew you w wouldn't let m me down," Claudius said. "Y y you realize that I'll h have t to take the credit?"

"I know," Gaius said. "The future of Rome is of more importance than my. ."

"I w won't forget," Claudius promised, then, suddenly looking very self-satisfied, he said, "I h have a s s surprise for you."

"Oh?"

"Vipsania has p pleaded with me. I'll leave you here f for a year," Claudius said, clearly very pleased with himself, "th th then you come back to Rome to b build your engine."

"What?" Gaius said in surprise.

"I'll p pay for c craftsmen," he said, "and y you can m make me a new weapon!"

"It may not make a weapon," Gaius warned, "although it may help make weapons, by getting more metal from mines, or it may help move soldiers, or. ."

"Or it m may g get m more money for the treasury," Claudius offered.

"That's certainly possible," Gaius said, "as long as I can make it work."

"I'm sure you c c can," Claudius nodded, "I'll b b build a place where you and others c c can work and where m more new th things can be made. You'll m make the new Library of Rome the centre of the world of l learning!"

Gaius stared at him. Could this really happen? "Thank you, Princeps," he bowed.

"I I knew you'd be pleased," Claudius smiled.

It was only as Gaius left the tent that he remembered the prophecy. He was not supposed to return to Rome until it was in ruins. Well, so much for that stupid prophecy!

Mail arrived with the reinforcements, including another letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

By now I know you have had success. Rome is all abuzz with the success, and the news that Claudius himself intends to take the field. Some are saying that Claudius won't make any difference, in fact he will probably make things worse, but I know that won't happen.

It's not that I have great faith in Claudius' military ability; as it happens, I know Claudius hasn't either. On the other hand, we both have complete faith in yours! He knows his limitations, and before he left, he summoned me to a dinner. To my complete surprise, there were just the two of us; even Messalina was somewhere else. Claudius confided to me that he intended to rely on your judgment, and while he knew that it was wrong for him to take the credit for your skill, the greater good of Rome demanded it. He promised me that he would reward you richly when you returned to Rome. Now I know you don't think you will return to Rome before it collapses, but I think you should put that stupid prophecy out of your head; there is absolutely no way in the world that Rome is going to collapse anytime soon.

What might happen, though, is that if Claudius doesn't win, there will be plots, in fact I believe that right now Marcus Vinicianus and a number of other Senators are getting ready to replace Claudius. I actually mentioned this to Claudius, and he smiled and said that he was confident that I was right, but I was not to worry as the particular Senators had been invited to accompany him to Britain and have a grandstand view of the major battle. That way, if he lost, which he was sure you wouldn't let happen, the Senators could face the angry Celts themselves. He actually said that he wished he could get some of them into the line and see how courageous they really were when they actually had to fight an enemy that was trying to kill them. As an aside, if you can think of any movement that scares the daylights out of those senators, as likely as not Claudius will approve.

This was an interesting move, because Claudius told them that if they did not come, he would assume they bore him considerable ill will, and when he returned victorious, those who had refused to come and acclaim him would be considered to have been plotting and would be dealt with accordingly. He gave a long speech which, apart from the stuttering, could have come directly from Tiberius towards the end of his imperium, and in many ways it left the Senators with even less choice than from some of the worst demands from Little Boots. They were appalled, and prostrated themselves, swearing allegiance, and so on, so, almost out of Augustus' books, Claudius smiled and told them of the gracious efforts he had made to ensure their time in Britain would be instructive. The Senators would be placed in legionary camps, and would see the style of legionary life, indeed if they wished, they could experience it. I doubt there will be many takers on the last offer.

On more ordinary matters, everything is going well on the ranch; the crops are in, the animals are thriving and we should have a good year. We even got some money sent to us by the Legate of the Fulminata, one Lucius Vibius. Apparently while you were there you arranged for some traders to sell beer according to your recipe, and they were supposed to pay so much per keg. Well, they seemed to think you had forgotten all about it so there was no need to for them to pay, but apparently Vibius knew about the deal and persuaded them to pay up. As he told them, he knew roughly how much beer had been made because he knew how much grain they had used. If they did not own up to the correct amount, he would assume they were also cheating Claudius of his taxes. The implied threat worked wonders.

Britain is now on everybody's lips in Rome. There are bets on everything, when the battle for Camulodunum will start, which legion goes first, even if it will even get underway. You will be very famous when you get back.

May the Gods of battle, and, for that matter, your Pallas Athene, be with you and protect you.

Your loving Vipsania.

Gaius was quite surprised to hear the news about Vibius; he had assumed that once he left the Fulminata, Vibius would forget about him, but apparently that was not so. Assuming the prophecy was wrong and he did return to Rome, he would have to ensure that he did something to help Vibius' career. He was also interested to learn that Vipsania believed that most of the senators accompanying this expedition were as likely as not to have been forming plots to get rid of Claudius. Perhaps he should invite some of the Senators to accompany squads of men on raiding parties, to see what action was really like. The downside, of course, was that the soldiers would feel they had to protect the Senators, which might put them in unnecessary danger, for he had no faith in the Senators' ability to look after themselves once politics became irrelevant.

All the same, he could publicly make an offer to them! Simply watching them try to worm out of it would be extremely satisfying, both to himself and to Claudius.

* * *

Moving a Legion was a ponderous business, but Gaius had made it very clear that he wanted the twentieth to be the fastest to get up and go. Accordingly, the twentieth was the first to head north, needless to say, without any of the Senators.

On the eve of departure, the Legates and the Senators were invited by Claudius to a dinner so the Senators could better get to know the Legates. The formal objective had been a clear failure, although the real objective was almost certainly a success. After the first of the entrees, and when wine was flowing, many of the Senators began making blustering claims to knowledge of matters military, most of which led to less than polite sniggers from the Legates of the ninth and fourteenth.

However, Gaius got to his feet and praised them, and thanked them for their offerings. He was most certain that the Princeps would be most pleased to take advantage of their profound knowledge. At this point the other Legates gave Gaius disparaging sneers: you crawling political worm! But Gaius continued: the one weakness they had was that of operational matters, but he offered them the chance to rectify that, and at the same time demonstrate their courage and skill at these matters. The other Legates now gave Gaius looks of disbelief. Gaius continued by proposing that the Senators, particularly Vinicianus, who had been one of the louder ones, accompany the twentieth.

"We are going to send Centuries on raiding missions on small villages," he explained. "If you like to accompany us, you can see real action. We'll give you a horse, a lance, and fit you up with armour. There's no better place to watch a battle than right in the middle of it!"

While the Legates now could hardly contain their laughter, with much hemming and hawing, the Senators declined.

"You mean," frowned the Legate of the fourteenth, "you refuse to give our men the benefit of your expertise in the field?"

"Pigshit! They haven't got any and they know it!" the Legate of the ninth snarled. "Look, come with us, and we'll give you some real experience. Proper uniforms, and we'll put you in the front line. Then you can come face to face with these Celts you seem to denigrate, and buy yourselves bragging rights for years describing how you actually killed some Celts instead of sitting on your arses on the back seats."

"So, here you are," Gaius continued. "Three Legions are offering you the opportunity to get some genuine battlefield experience. What I suggest is that those of you who would prefer to fight from horseback present themselves to Lucius Matius, who will sell you a horse and equipment, the proceeds of the sale going to the disabled soldier's fund for the twentieth. Those of you who would prefer to fight on foot should go to whomever Claudius nominates."

"It's all f for a good c c cause," Claudius offered. "Of c course if you want t to get out of f fighting, a g generous donation to th the p p pension fund for the soldiers w will be accepted." Despite the stuttering, the implication was quite clear: you will now pay for your boasting, or demonstrate there was something behind it. In the spirit of Little Boots, Claudius continued by pointing out he would judge what was genuinely generous, and failure to be generous would lead to an order to fight in a position he nominated, donation or no donation. Considerable amounts of gold were transferred to the soldiers' pension fund, and the Senators were notable for their lack of boasting about military matters thereafter. The senators also began to realize that with three legions prepared to enforce Claudius' imperium, disobeying Claudius right now was not a very good idea.

The twentieth made good progress the first day, but there was virtually no opposition. The next day they split to take four small villages, where the cohorts met only perfunctory resistance at best. This was repeated the following day. As Gaius noted, the villages were small, there were very few soldiers there, and those that were wisely fled once the Romans came into view, or quickly surrendered when it was apparent that their village was an objective. Claudius' policy was firm; a quick surrender guaranteed very favourable treatment. Pillage was strictly forbidden, and once disarmed, the villagers quickly returned to the problems of preparing themselves for the oncoming winter. Acceptance of Roman domination meant that nobody would be enslaved, and, as it turned out, the taxes Rome wanted were no worse, and often better, than the payments Caratacus had demanded.

Some of the soldiers thought that this was too easy, and there was no real fighting. However, as Gaius pointed out to the Tribunes, Caratacus' economic base was disappearing before his eyes; in a week all he would have was a city, a number of soldiers, but no food. He might consider himself a chief or king, but he would only be in charge of problems. Then he would have to fight, but he would fight on Rome's terms.

The march was north and northwest, which left Caratacus' capital unchallenged, but it was an increasingly isolated island in a sea of Roman domination. Finally, the twentieth turned to the East, and on the early afternoon of the last day of the week, the walls of Camulodunum could be seen.

"So, what do you think?" Gaius turned towards Matius.

"I think Caratacus is a fool," Matius replied. "Right now there is one legion in front of him. In another day or so, there will be two more. He should come out and fight now, because it isn't going to get any easier."

"Quite so," Gaius agreed. "What Caratacus thinks is that it will be easier to fight defensively, and that his walls will stop us."

"Then he needed much bigger stone walls," Matius shrugged. "Those walls will take no more than an hour or so to breach."

"Yes, but they would have been more than adequate for any previous battles with other Celts, who don't have our siege engines," Gaius said. "The lesson here that he has yet to learn is that you shouldn't decide your strategy until you know exactly the strengths and weaknesses of your opponent, how he will fight, and what he can achieve that way."

"He won't have seen Roman soldiers before," Matius agreed. "This will be a surprise."

"Perhaps, but he should have tried to gain more knowledge," Gaius pointed out. "In this case, the Roman army hasn't changed much for a century, and he knew about Julius' landing in Britain. If he didn't know how to get around that, he shouldn't have ever contemplated fighting."

"He hasn't had a lot of choice, once we landed," Matius pointed out.

"All he had to do was ally with us before, and this wouldn't have happened."

"That doesn't necessarily follow," Matius countered, then began to look a little apologetic, as he realized that going against his commander might not be a good idea.

"You're free to say what you like," Gaius smiled. "I started this conversation to find out what sort of a commander you'll make if given the chance. So what doesn't necessarily follow?"

"That Claudius wouldn't have invaded anyway. Little Boots set an example, and Claudius needs a victory, and, well, Britain is here, and. ."

"You may be right," Gaius nodded. "Can you think of anything else?"

"Just one thing," Matius said, then began looking a little embarrassed.

"Which is?"

"You said, sir, that if Caratacus didn't know how to get around the Roman methods, he shouldn't have ever contemplated fighting."

"So?"

"Strictly speaking," Matius continued, "we don't know he hasn't got something up his sleeve. We don't know. ."

"You're quite correct," Gaius nodded. "Strictly speaking, we don't know he hasn't got some secret weapon, or tactic, or something that will beat us. So what do you suggest?"

"We get on and fight anyway. We can't just turn up and not do anything in case, well. ."

"Quite correct. As an aside, what do you think the likelihood of Caratacus having such a secret way of beating us?"

"Pretty close to zero, sir."

"So you won't bet on Caratacus?" Gaius grinned.

"No, sir."

"Neither would I," Gaius agreed. "Now, your job in the near future is to get the cavalry ready. I know, cavalry doesn't charge city walls, but we have to assume that there will be fighting or fleeing in the open, and you have to be ready."

"We are ready, sir, but yes, there will be more drills, to get even readier."

"I'm sure you are ready," Gaius nodded, and patted him on the shoulder. "Now, get the other Tribunes together, and tell the scouts I need a report as quickly as possible on what we know about the Celtic defences."

Chapter 26

The Celtic defence appeared to comprise walls around the city, with an outer wooden palisade, then beyond that, a deep ditch with the earth heaped into a mound on the outside. Numerous wooden lances were embedded in this mound, to offer some defence against a massive cavalry charge, although as Matius pointed out, a cavalry charge against a deep ditch was unprofitable anyway, because the horses had to be almost stationary to prevent them falling in and breaking their legs. This ditch went from the edges of a marsh that ran down to the river behind the town, and around to the edge of the essentially impenetrable thicket.

"That ditch happens to be quite convenient for us," Gaius said. "Now, I want fortifications dug along a line here," he said, pointing to a hand-drawn map.

"Isn't that too far away for us to use artillery?" one of the Tribunes asked.

"Yes, it is," Gaius nodded. "The idea is that the distance should be such that our artillery can send only small loads into that trench, and nothing into the city. Now, over here, we shall build a grandstand for the Senators, so they can watch what is going on. The Gemina Martia will continue these trenches out to here," he said, again pointing to the map.

"I don't understand," one of the Tribunes said. "Why don't we get closer?"

"So that Caratacus will think we have made a mistake," Gaius explained.

"Suppose we had, then what?"

"Our next move," Gaius continued, "would be to rectify the mistake, which we would do by taking their trench. If we did that, we could bring up the onagers, and smash their walls, and it would be all over."

"So why don't we?"

"Because this isn't just about defeating Caratacus," Gaius smiled. "What I want is for the Senators to start those sort of questions. I want the Senators to start questioning these tactics right now.

"What I then expect to happen," Gaius continued, "is that the Celts will realize that they can't afford for us to march up to their trench and capture it, which we just about could right now, and bring up our onagers. So what I expect they will do is to man their trench with everyone they've got, to repel us if we try."

In the event, Gaius was proven right: within an hour, Celts poured from the city gates and began manning the trenches.

Gaius was also correct with the Senators' reaction. They met together for a meal, and Vinicianus and several others immediately began complaining about lost opportunities. There had been an hour during which the twentieth could have marched up and may well have captured the relatively lightly defended trench. A deputation was sent to Claudius, who refused to see them, and sent them instead to the military commanders.

"So, you've rediscovered some military skill?" Gaius smiled. "There's still time for you to get equipped and. ."

"You know as well as I do Senators don't fight with common soldiers," Vinicianus scowled, "but that doesn't mean we have to turn down opportunities because you couldn't get off your arse quickly enough."

"So you think that was an opportunity?" Gaius asked.

"It's obvious! If you take that trench, we bring the onagers up and pound down the walls, and the city is ours."

"How many enemy troops were in the trench?"

"I don't know! You're the one that. ."

"So you send a legion forward against an unknown enemy? How long do you think it would take to get the legions assembled to march forward?"

"I don't know, but weren't they marching anyway?"

"Yes, but you still have to assemble properly to attack a fixed defence," Gaius said. "Now, how long do you think it would take the enemy to come out and fill the trench?"

"Well, it took them an hour. Surely we could have got there in less than that?"

"Yes, but they only took an hour when it became obvious we weren't going to do what you suggest. Had we marched forward, they might have done something quite different."

"So what? We still have to fight them."

"Yes, we do, on our terms," Gaius said. "If we do what you wanted, suppose we take the trench. You would have our men in that trench about thirty meters from the palisade?"

"Well, why not?"

"How many of our legion?"

"What do you mean, how many?"

"All of it? A cohort? What?"

"All of it. We don't want to let them come and massacre a cohort."

"So instead, they start propelling boiling pitch into the trench and seriously injure a legion?"

"They won't do that."

"How do you know?"

"Well. ."

"I think we can thank you for your military expertise. In the next few days you will see how it should really be done."

"That put them in their place," the Legate from the fourteenth said, after the Senators had gone, "but they did have a point. Sooner or later we have to take that trench."

"Not necessarily," Gaius shrugged. "Right now we have their soldiers in the trench instead of being behind the walls. Sooner or later we have to remove the soldiers from the field or persuade them to stop fighting and it's a lot harder to do that if they are fortified. Claudius has a plan!"

"I don't doubt," the other Legate nodded. "The question is, which Claudius?"

* * *

Claudius continued is policy of meeting his Legates and Plautius on a one-to-one basis. "I g get four p p plans," he explained once, "b but no arguments." It also meant that only those who contributed knew where any of the plan came from. As Claudius noted, he was also getting sour comments from the Legates about how the Celts were building fearsome fortification out from the city. The simple strategy of cooking the Celts, which the other two Legates had advocated initially, would not work. "Wh what the Legates don't know," Claudius said, "is th that I'd n n never order that!"

"Fortunately, neither do the Celts," Gaius pointed out. "All this work they're putting in is exactly what we want. They'll be really disappointed when they find out."

It appeared that Claudius had also decided to give the Senators something of a thrill. Initially, their stands had been constructed in the centre, where the Senators felt they would get a better view of proceedings. Claudius decided to give them an even better view: they were in a gap between the fourteenth and the twentieth. There was no need to alter any of the other deployments: nothing in front of the Senators would spoil their view.

* * *

This meeting would be the last meeting before the final battle, and Claudius was excited. "Th this has g got to work," he said to Gaius. "All the senators will b be watching."

"Then let's put on a show," Gaius smiled. "What I'd do tomorrow is march the two open legions up to these positions," and he pointed to the map. "I would then announce the villages that have surrendered and hence will not be enslaved, then I'd march up the prisoners, parade them, then invite the Celts to surrender. If they don't, then we must be seen to bring up the catapults. You must make as big a show as possible, and make it as noisy as possible. Make the troops shout insults, chant, anything. We want to make sure the Celts' attention is fully devoted to what is in front of them. The later they find out about the elephants, the better."

"And C C Caratacus? Wh what would you d do if y you were him?"

"It's starting to be a bit late," Gaius shrugged. "His best chance was when we landed, and his next best chance was when we started marching inland, or when we began crossing the Thames. Now, his only chance to put up a fight is to come out straight away before his men desert him. Now, as you can see, on his left flank there's a terrible tangle of brambles. I'm ready to guess that he'll think that we've made a mistake by giving him a protected left flank, and he'll put his weaker troops there. When the elephants to clear a way. ."

"The following troops will get a c clear strike," Claudius nodded.

"Better, it puts immediate confusion elsewhere. The Celts are brave enough, but when they see their left collapse, given their history of losses and no obvious way to retreat with the water behind them, hopefully they'll start to think about ways of escape."

"Th that sounds g good," Claudius nodded.

* * *

The day began with a fog, so that nobody in Camulodunum could see what was happening. They could hear, however; there was the pronounced sound of various horns, orders, and the clunking of armour. This was no surprise attack, and the legions were assembling for battle. While the lines were being formed, some of the troops began escorting the Senators and their families to the wooden structures from which they could view proceedings, assuming the fog lifted.

"What a waste of bloody time," the Legate of the Fourteenth muttered.

"On the contrary, it is a sign of supreme confidence by the Princeps. When he wins, the Senators won't be able to deny his victory."

"We haven't won yet," the Legate pointed out.

"Better not let the Senators hear that," Gaius grinned. "If the Celts break through anywhere, and there's no line immediately in front of them, they'll be scared shitless."

"You know, it's almost worth it! Just for a little while, anyway."

"The thought occurred to me too," Gaius shrugged. "It'd do the scheming bastards good to have a good bowel clean-out, but you know as well as I do, we won't."

"I know. I'll see you later. Good luck."

"And good luck to you too."

* * *

When the fog lifted, the Celts saw the legions lined up to form what was seemingly an overwhelming force. The gates opened, and more Celts poured out to support those behind the massive earthworks running in a line across the area between them. At this point the ballistae opened up. At first, the giant bolts did not make the distance. Two things then happened: some Celts stood up on the earthworks to hurl insults, and some of the Senators began muttering, "I told you this would happen." At that point the ballistae began using smaller bolts; these reached the Celts on the earthworks, and following much screaming, those who could took cover behind the earthworks, leaving a number of bodies in full view. Relative silence descended on the Celts and on the Senators.

The onagers now let fly. Only moderate sized rocks could reach the earthen ramparts, and it was unlikely that these did any real damage, but that did not matter. Their main purpose was to distract the Celts. Meanwhile the legions began shouting insults. From their trenches, Celts howled them back.

This situation continued for some time, and it seemed that neither side wished to take the initiative. Then Claudius saw the sign he was waiting for: movement in the thicket. Immediately he ordered the advance. A horn blew, and the legions began to march forward. Because they were in a ditch, the Celts could not use archers, and Caratacus clearly recognized that his troops could not remain stationary until the Romans reached the top of the rampart. There were roars from the Celts, and they emerged, to charge the Romans.

When the Celtic charge was quite close, a barrage of pilii flew, then another. The Celtic charge paused as Celts tried to avoid being impaled. At the same time, the Romans formed a shield wall, and began to advance. The tactic was standard, the Celts had been ready for it, and they quickly reformed their lines.

The horn blew again, and a great noise could be heard from the brambles. The Celts on the left side turned to see what could be there, and in the centre, the Celtic charge faltered. Then, from the brambles, the first of the elephants emerged, and charged. The Celtic line on the left disintegrated as the Celts tried to avoid the rampaging elephants.

The elephants now charged towards the rear of the previously charging Celts. Before them were Romans, behind them were elephants and the shields of the ninth. At this point, the Celtic charge degenerated into chaos as the wall of Roman shields of the second and the fourteenth inexorably advanced. Gaius managed to get one glimpse of Caratacus riding to his left, desperately trying to instil order. But the Celts now wished to retreat to behind their city walls. To do this, they had to get through or around the ninth, and as they chose to run around, they ran behind their own troops, who could hear the sounds of elephants, horns, Roman armour clanking, screams from their own troops, cavalry, and all this led to general panic. They would turn to look, and to them it was only too obvious that they were losing. They too began to peel away and run.

Immediately Gaius let loose his cavalry from his right flank, and sent a division of three cohorts in support. The retreating British now had their retreat cut off, an attack in front, on their right, and from their rear.

From his viewpoint on a small hillock, Gaius saw Caratacus again. He was beaten, and he knew it. But still he was organizing his troops, ready for one last charge. Let him, Gaius thought.

But when the charge came, it was not quite what Gaius expected. The British charged directly at the infantry supporting the elephant advance. The Romans quickly locked shields and prepared, but then, just as they braced themselves, the attack peeled off to the left.

The Romans turned and chased, but once through the line, the Celts were free. The heavily armoured Roman soldier was unable to keep up with the lightly protected Celtic footmen, and the Roman cavalry was elsewhere.

Gaius nodded in approval. Caratacus was breaking out in the one gap created by the elephants and in the one place where escape had not been considered. The fourteenth's cavalry was deployed to mop up those who had been initially on the left flank, while the twentieth's cavalry was attacking nearer the capital to prevent Celts from returning to their fortified position. Either by good luck or by good analysis Caratacus had found the one spot between legions that was not covered by cavalry.

Then, suddenly, many of the other Britons disappeared. It turned out they had peeled off into a small gully, which, because of the fog, had been overlooked initially. When the Romans pursuers found it, they found the floor was yet another swamp. If they ran, they found themselves up to their armpits in mud, while if they tried to run around the swamp, it was obvious that the Britons would escape.

By now the battle before the city walls was over, and the gates themselves were opened. Gaius recalled his cavalry, and was about to send them after the fleeing Britons when a thought struck him. The cavalry would not be particularly suitable for the fog or swamp, and while the horses were uninjured, they had been ridden hard and long, and they had been in battle. The day had been an outstanding success. There was no need to give the Britons a chance to sour it.

Instead, he sent the cavalry towards the city gates, with the orders to assemble the three cohorts and secure entry to the capital. The fourteenth had also advanced to the city, and Roman soldiers were now proceeding to disarm the inhabitants.

The senators now felt it safe to leave their observation posts and walk towards the gates. A chain of soldiers were quickly assembled to form an honour guard, and the various cohorts began to assemble before the city.

An hour later, the combined horns of three legions blasted a signal into the air, and from the distance a chariot appeared. The horns continued their triumphal acclaim, the chariot came closer, and in it the helmeted figure of Claudius, Princeps of Rome, stood with one hand grasping the chariot, and one lifted to his troops.

"Imperator!" came the loud acclaim.

Even the senators joined in the acclaim. The Roman army knew who was in charge, and the senators accepted this. They immediately voted a triumph for Claudius on his return to Rome, and it was a very special type of triumph, for Claudius had defeated his enemies in this battle without the loss of a single Roman soldier. It was very clear to everybody that this could never have happened had the attack simply been the expected frontal approach, it was clear to everybody that the elephants allowing a legion to emerge from an impenetrable thicket to attack the rear of the weakest flank had been the key, and nobody could claim to have suggested this. There was no senator who could claim to have thought of anything remotely like this strategy, and most had publicly ridiculed Claudius, safely from a distance, for bringing these animals. Having safely announced the futility of bringing elephants, they could only acclaim Claudius for the success that depended on them.

Claudius was proud, and he had good cause to be proud. The decorations and awards also flowed generously. Gaius, and the other Legates, found themselves the receivers of four further awards, which, on reflection, Gaius thought somewhat excessive. For Gaius alone, the first was for the successful landing and taking of Dubrae. As he remarked to Claudius, this was remarkably simple.

"P perhaps! B b but getting the t troops to sail was not. Anyway," Claudius advised, "t take them. Y ou never know when they m m might come in handy to impress someone."

The next two awards were for the siege on the Medway, and for the defeat of Togodumnus, and the last, the major one, for defeating the Catuvellauni. "I kn know I'm taking the c credit for today," Claudius said, "b b but we know th the triumph should be yours."

"It's much more important that we get a stable government than I get a big head," Gaius said. In a sense he was entirely sincere, but there was a thought running through the back of his mind that he had been promised a triumph. Was this it? A triumph of his, taken by. . No! that thought must be put to sleep. If nothing else, he may have owed his life to Claudius; he certainly owed him his career, and a triumph was the least he could do in return, the one gesture that would guarantee Claudius' tenure as Princeps.

"I I'll get you a b b big head soon enough" Claudius said, and stepped back, and squinted a little with his head to one side as he tried to imagine the effect. Then he added, "Anyway, y you should g get more than your m men," and added that he intended to be liberal with awards to them. And, Gaius realized, Claudius had a point when he added that if Gaius were to make a success of this Roman library, it would help if Gaius himself had plenty of decorations. Victory awards invariably ended opposing denigration. Also, the liberal dishing out of awards pleased the troops, and morale was high as the winter was about to close in.

For the next few days, Gaius had little to do. Claudius had arranged for any British Chieftains that wished to ally themselves with Rome to come to Camulodunum and formally accept the Roman Imperium. He suggested that Matius arrange cavalry escort for the Chieftains, while the other Tribunes looked after the getting of supplies.

Eventually, Falco came to see him. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I have organized supplies for our men, and for the various parties, but. ."

"But?"

"Well, sir, with all due respect. ."

"You can say what's on your mind," Gaius said, as he smiled to try to put Falco at his ease.

"Well, sir, I have carried out a survey of the food reserves around Camulodunum, including the nearby villages, and there is no way there will be sufficient food to support three legions. There's another problem too."

"Which is?" Gaius smiled in encouragement.

"There is no nearby port. If I were Caratacus and I wanted to get my own back, when we need to ship food in, I would raid whatever port we used, and as far as I can tell, there is no good port around here safe from winter storms. Feeding three legions will need a lot of food, sir, and for that matter, there really may not be sufficient forest around here to provide the necessary firewood without removing too much of it for the future. "

"And you would recommend?"

"Go somewhere fresh, while we can, sir."

"Then you shall get your wish," Gaius said. "That was a good analysis. We need to control both our food supply and a port, so we are going to set up a temporary base at the Thames, so you can go and get the legion ready to march. As soon as you can get them ready, we head south."

"They'll be ready the day after the Princeps leaves," Falco assured Gaius.

Chapter 27

The day following Claudius' departure for Rome, a bitterly cold wind blew up, rain drifted in from the north, and the air was full of swirling brown leaves. Winter was approaching, and if the twentieth was to move, now was the time. The troops were less than happy at having to march in the cold and wet conditions, but march they would.

It was now that Gaius envied Vespasian. The Augusta had begun preparations to winter over with the Roman allies, the Atrebates, near the south coast. The client king, Cogidumnus, was there solely because of Roman power so he would return the favour and supply the legion, while the legion would protect him from raids from other tribes and from internal plots. Securing the Atrebates as allies would then free up the Augusta and permit it to drive westward along the southern coast next spring.

The Hispana would go north during the next spring, so it would now march northwards and find the nearest coastal port, so that it could be supplied from the sea. Moving north would also give it the opportunity to scout out the first territory it had to cover, and it would also give the Romans the opportunity to approach the Iceni.

There was a further military requirement, related to communications. The Thames provided a natural harbour, but it also provided a natural barrier to land transport. Plautius' answer was to eventually construct a bridge over the river, and also to construct a fort to station some defensive forces. That required some labour, which suggested that a legion should winter over there. Since the Valeria was to advance on Vespasian's right flank, Gaius had volunteered. Thus the day after Claudius' departure, the Valeria marched south.

One of the clear benefits of just having defeated Caratacus at his capital was that a reasonable amount of his wealth had remained, now to be confiscated by the Romans and sent to Rome. The conquered lands, however, included some of the prime agricultural land in Britain, and while the Celtic farmers were poor in gold, Gaius noted wryly, if the new taxes were paid in food he could just about afford to feed his legion over the winter.

While the weather cleared on the second day of the march, the skies were greying as the Thames came into view, and since a decision was required as to where the legion should camp, the legionary surveyors were sent ahead to scout a possible position, with an objective of being at the most convenient point to put a pontoon-type bridge across the river, and also permit ships to berth nearby. While wherever they stopped was unimportant for the Valeria, it was desirable that the initial site could become a more permanent site as a transport centre. They soon found what they considered to be a satisfactory spot, and the legion marched towards it. Both bridge and legion would be downstream from a Celtic settlement that was far too small to be of any use for housing the legion.

The following morning, the infantry set about obtaining timber from the nearby forest to build barracks, while the cavalry began surveying the countryside for sources of food. While this was going on, Gaius sought out the Chief of the Celtic settlement that was a few miles upstream.

The first thing Gaius noted was that this chief was very young, not that that should be held against him since he, Gaius, was not much older, and he commanded a legion. However this Celtic Chief was also furtive, insecure, brash and angry; not a good mixture. Gaius immediately guessed the reason for his being so young: he had succeeded his father, who had died in battle. That would explain the anger, while the insecurity would come both from having a legion on his doorstep, and the possibility of a challenge from one of his tribesmen.

"I can guess how you feel," Gaius started, "but I suggest you start to think a bit. Believe me, the Roman Army is here to stay. This isn't like Caesar, who came and collected some tribute, and left for what he considered more important business. The Princeps needs this invasion to succeed, so the Britons either defeat four legions, or you accept us. If you opt for the first, you've made a bad start."

The Celtic Chief began to make a retort, but then stopped.

"What you should do," Gaius nodded, appreciating that this Celt could at least maintain some self-control, "is see this as a personal opportunity."

"Opportunity?" the Celt scowled. "For whom?"

"For you, to cement in your position as Chief. Otherwise, you had better be a better warrior than virtually all the others in your tribe."

"What do you mean?" At least there was interest on his face.

"Celtic Chiefs can be overthrown by combat," Gaius shrugged, "and also by a knife in the back while you're asleep."

"So you're promising guards?" the Celt smiled derisively. "Presumably around my bed and. ."

"What I promise, assuming we can come to some agreement, is that if you die by foul play, I shall crucify whoever replaces you, and if I think he's some dolt put there to take the punishment, the next replacement. Nobody will challenge you if they can't replace you, and I promise you, the cross is not the most pleasant way to die."

"They won't believe me if I say that."

"They'll believe me if I say it," Gaius replied harshly. "I will announce that at the same time I announce the punishments for breaking various laws I shall impose."

"So what am I supposed to agree to?" At least, Gaius noted, there was interest.

"Surprisingly little," Gaius replied. "Your people will undertake to accept our presence, pay the taxes we impose, and go on with their lives and keep our laws. In return, your people will have complete freedom to do whatever they wish with their lives."

"Yes, but what are your men going to eat over the winter? Steal it from us?"

"We shall pay for what we take," Gaius nodded. "However, you have raised a good point, indeed the point I came here to discuss. We shall pay for food, but there has to be enough here for both our legion and your people. I need you to take stock of how much is in storage."

"And if there isn't enough?"

"There won't be, so we have to find some more before winter makes the finding too difficult," Gaius replied. "The only question I have is how much do I have to find?"

"And you want me to do what?"

"Find out how much food is stored, how much is going to be needed by your tribe, and what the difference is. If you're truthful, nobody need go hungry, because we'll find food somehow. If you lie, it will be your people who'll pay. Don't forget, if I have to get food, the sooner I find out how much, the better."

"Then give me two days."

* * *

The days were now cool enough to be unpleasant if standing around, which, Gaius noted, encouraged the soldiers to cut timber faster. The better the barracks were, the warmer they would feel. However, five thousand men could do quite a bit of work, and Plautius had also sent a number of the elephants to help with moving logs. Since the men knew what a German winter was like, they guessed that the British one would not be much better, and this encouraged them to ensure that their barracks would be built properly, and there was plenty of firewood. After all, they were at the end of the queue.

For food, Gaius sent Exploratores back to the villages he had already passed through. He knew roughly how much food was there, and he knew that the tribesmen would appreciate the money, or the chance to off-load tax liabilities. Archers were sent out to seek game, and local fishermen were encouraged to work a little harder. Nevertheless, there would still be difficulties so he also sent ships back to Gaul to bring more. This was one of the advantages of being camped adjacent to a harbour.

Gaius was a little surprised when the young Chief reported on the third day that his village had a small surplus of grain, and was prepared to sell this and certain vegetables throughout the winter, in return for appropriate payment. He also named some nearby villages that he felt would also have food to spare. Gaius thanked him; it was not a solution to the problem, but it was a contribution.

Chapter 28

"I have brought you all here," Gaius addressed the Tribunes and a number of others, "to outline what has to be done over winter. Our first task is to erect fortifications and to put a bridge over the river. Problems?"

One of the engineers stood up and began to answer, "Sir, a full timber bridge could not be constructed over this winter, coupled with what else we have to do."

"I was thinking about a pontoon-type bridge. Can you manage that?"

"Providing I get enough timber," the engineer nodded. "I will need some supplies such as nails and pitch from Gaul, but provided I get the timber and reasonable access to the men, this is not a problem."

"Falco, you are in charge of organizing timber collection for the engineers. They will tell you what is required; you will organize getting it.

"That gets rid of the bridge problem," Gaius nodded. "The next problem is food. Matius, you will take cavalry back into the lands of the Catuvellauni and forage for what you can get. Remind them their taxes are due, and that will be paid in food. Set a fair price, and under no circumstances leave them to starve. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Remember this. These Celts are recently conquered, and they won't like us one little bit. They won't fight right now, but that doesn't make them friendly either. I do not want to have to refight them, so try not to start a rebellion. Be firm, but go overboard to be fair."

"Lupus, you will organize excursions down south to the land of the Cantiaci in search of supplies. Same general orders. Technically, they are allies, but they could be very weak allies, so don't turn them into foes.

"Which gets me to the next point. We have to be firm with the Celts, but fair. I will not tolerate soldiers carrying on private rape and pillage. Let the word be known on that. Basically, in the long run we want the Celts as allies, and that isn't going to happen unless we treat them reasonably. The best way to avoid trouble is to keep the soldiers busy doing something. Collecting wood and building the bridge and fortifications is good, but also remember, we don't want to suffer from Celtic raids that get to where they shouldn't, so you will maintain good scouting exercises, and keep firm watch. Do you all understand? Are there any problems?"

Everybody understood. There were no problems. Not yet.

* * *

As the ships brought supplies from Gaul, they also brought a letter from Vipsania.

My Darling Gaius,

Once again winter approaches, and once again I miss you very much. However, at least I know you have been very successful. Claudius has returned in triumph, and what a magnificent ceremony it was. Timothy took me to watch the procession and events in the Circus Maximus, and Claudius made a truly magnificent figure in his Toga Picta. The sun shone brilliantly on the purple, the gold really flashed, and since he was standing in his chariot, his often awkward stance was absent, or at least not noticeable. The carts had plenty of spoils and he brought a reasonable number of captives, none of whom, you will be pleased to hear, were sacrificed. Some thought it a small triumph, in part because he did not bring his army back with him, nevertheless it was long enough for me.

Claudius invited me to an evening the following day, and he was as pleased as he could be with himself. He asked me what he could do for me. It almost looked as if he would grant me anything, but I didn't know what to do, so I asked him to grant you whatever you asked when you returned to Rome. He nodded, and said he was going to do that anyway, because it was you who really deserved the triumph. So there! You'll really get something. Of course I know you think you might not get back until Rome falls, but that's just plain stupid. All you have to do is stay alive, and Claudius will bring you home after the next year of campaigning.

The general consensus is that this triumph will secure Claudius, and he need worry no further about plots. Certainly some of the senators such as Marcus Vinicianus and Valerius Asiaticus are maintaining low profiles, but I am far from convinced that we have heard the last of them. When Claudius does bring you back, you may end up with the job of uncovering further plots. Claudius has often mentioned that if he had one wish fulfilled, he would wish for a Marcus Agrippa. Claudius may hope you will fill that role.

Timothy has been a considerable help around here. It's quite amazing what he knows, and he has straightened out several things around the estate. The corn issue may have been solved also. Timothy decided to raise the issue with Quintus, but not in an accusatory manner. He merely said that the issue was really puzzling, but he was working on it, and he would have watchers at the port to find out who was helping themselves. The latest shipment arrived without losses. Of course, as Timothy pointed out, that doesn't mean that it was Quintus, but it does suggest it was someone around Ostia. I gather Timothy will be making further enquiries.

I hope you are securing good quarters for winter, which cannot be far away when this gets to you. Keep warm, and keep safe.

I miss you very much,

Your loving Vipsania.

The corn issue was a continuing sore. What were the facts? It appeared that about ten per cent of the corn had been taken over the last three years. This three-year period was the time Quintus had been managing the shipments. When Timothy appeared, the loss stopped. Timothy had mentioned to Quintus that he was going to check.

Either Quintus was guilty or he was not. All the facts fitted with his guilt, but suppose he were not guilty? Somebody else may have seen Quintus as a soft touch, someone who was simply not doing his job properly. Possibly Quintus had told somebody else about the corn, and that somebody else had seized the opportunity. They may have simply watched Quintus accept the grain at the waterfront, then if Quintus had wandered off to a tavern and left somebody else do the work, the theft could easily happen.

Quintus need not be a thief; just somebody not very useful. But what about the last time? Timothy had remained hidden. Either the thief would have had to spot Timothy, which was unlikely, or he had heard Timothy tell Quintus, or Quintus had told somebody else. Quintus' mouthing off about a secret plan was depressingly likely.

So, he still did not know what to do about Quintus, not that there was much he could do since he was Lucilla's husband and was living near Rome, while he was in Britain.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, rafts were built to ferry timber over the river, and fortifications were quickly built, together with storehouses and barracks. A suitable building was quickly erected for Gaius, both for his personal use and as an administrative centre. Gaius had brought a considerable amount of blank scroll material with him, and once everybody had their assigned tasks, he would have plenty of spare time to write.

He remembered Athene's instruction: record his discoveries of where Aristotle was wrong, but show them to no person. It was not quite clear what the last part meant, but the first was clear enough. He would record all his findings, including that contraries were the opposite or absence of the other, that contraries to motion were applied by the medium, and were not a property of the object itself, that all things fell at the same rate, which meant that if the force on a falling object was its weight, the acceleration had to be the weight divided by the amount of matter present. That allowed Aristarchus to be correct, and he could show geometrically what happened as the planets fell around the sun. He knew roughly how far away they all were, and exactly how long each of their "years" was, so he should be able to work out the accelerating factor for each of them. Maybe there would be a relationship? Whatever, he would prove through his evidence from the tides that Earth moved, he would put that down geometrically, he would show what that predicted regarding the Moon's and Sun's contributions, and he would put Timothy's data in.

That would be impressive. It would also be the very first scroll to enter this new Library of Rome that Claudius had promised. That would mean that work would last for years, even after his death. Yes, that was worth quite a bit.

Meanwhile, construction progressed at quite an impressive rate, for the Roman soldier worked very hard when given a task. The Celtic villagers watched with varying expressions: the older Celts were either surly or downcast, but the children were fascinated at the huge construction. Gaius approached one or two of the young men.

"Impressed?" He asked one.

"Hard not to be."

Gaius smiled encouragingly at the response. "You could build much stronger warmer houses for yourselves, you know."

"We couldn't build like that," the young man said sadly.

"Only because you don't know how. The question is, do you want to learn?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you, and any of your friends, want to help build that bridge, you'll work hard, you'll get paid for it, and more to the point, you'll learn some building tricks."

"I don't think those soldiers will want the likes of us."

"Oh yes they will," Gaius smiled. "They will be only too happy to teach you and look after you, and nobody will hurt you or bully you."

"That's what you say."

"No! That's what I will order," Gaius said coldly. "The Roman soldier obeys orders because they all know what will happen if they do not. So, if you're interested, come with me."

Two days later half a dozen young Celts were busy measuring and cutting timber.

* * *

Gaius had heard stories that the Celts celebrated the winter solstice at a great stone monument to the west, and this monstrous monument was aligned precisely so that the solstice could be shown by the way the sunlight passed between stones onto another. Not this year, he muttered to himself. It had drizzled for a week, and had the senators come the previous year and seen a similar miserable scene, this invasion probably would not have taken place.

Still, thanks to shipments from Gaul, supplies of food were adequate, if not luxurious, there was plenty of wine, and there was plenty of firewood. There was also more open ground, as all the construction and firewood gathering had caused a considerable retreat of the forest. As far as he was aware, the Celts in the adjacent village had sufficient food, but he was only too well aware that there would not be too much to spare. If some of his men and the elephants were put to work on those stumps, there should be more farmland for the next season. The question was, who would get the use of it? Perhaps he should make it common land. Perhaps he should invite the Celtic chief and some guests nominated by the chief to one of the Saturnalia festivities.

The meal was strained. The Celts seemed to think there was a hidden motive, so they kept reasonably silent, at least for a while. Part of the difficulty seemed to be that the Roman style of cooking and the actual menu was somewhat strange to them, and they were determined not to get to like it too much. Gaius provided ample wine, but most of the Celts left it alone, however he had also purchased mead and ale from a Celtic brewer, and this was somewhat harder to avoid.

Eventually the Chief came over to Gaius. "What do you want for the coming year?" he asked.

It was then that Gaius realized that this Chief had viewed the evening as a summons, master to servant. It was not what he had intended, but there was not much he could do about that. Most Roman commanders would simply have summoned the subjects through the day and given orders, and would never have dreamed of offering a meal. He could almost feel Rebecca's look.

"Apart from your paying taxes and keeping the peace, not much," Gaius replied. "As you know, over to the north there's a large area we have cleared, and next year this will make good grazing land."

"So?"

"I want that to be common land for your people, and specifically the poor must have as much right to graze animals as the rich. The grazing rights must be so many animals per person."

"I see."

"Now," Gaius said, looking into the Chief's eyes, "I have told you what outcome I want, but you can gain from this."

"How?" he frowned.

"As long as you do what I told you to do," Gaius smiled, "I will not contradict how you do it. If I were you, I would announce this to your people by saying that you negotiated with me and acquired the land, and it is your idea that it becomes common land. That way everybody will be grateful to you, which makes it harder for anyone to challenge your leadership."

"I suppose it would be," he nodded.

"It is one thing to challenge a man," Gaius pointed out, "and altogether another to challenge the tribe."

"That's true," the Chief nodded. He looked away, seemingly uncertain as to what to do next, then he appeared to come to some sort of decision. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want your people to be more prosperous," Gaius smiled. When it appeared that this explanation was not entirely believed, he added, "If your people have the chance to be prosperous, they'll be busy. Busy people aren't organizing revolts."

A look of understanding passed over the Chief's face.

"Believe me, I can put down any revolt that's likely to come up," Gaius continued, "and the way I would do it would lead to a bloody mess. I really don't want to do that and neither do your people want to suffer for no good reason.

"Let me give you some advice. Think more about your followers than yourself, and you will be a really great chief."

It was not entirely clear what the young man thought of this, or why he did it, but shortly after this meeting he announced the availability of the common grazing area.

* * *

Construction continued through the gloomy winter. The troops grumbled about the cold, they grumbled about the incessant drizzle, but work continued. Their one advantage of having been stationed on the German frontier was that they had experienced winters like this before. That did not make this one any more pleasant, but they had learned how to deal with it, and they had better furs than would be found in other legions stationed in warmer climates. Progress on the bridge was good, and the engineer outlined his plans as to how this bridge would be finished, and pointed out what had been completed. The work had stopped for the day because the light was too poor. The light seemed to be eternally poor in this place during winter, Gaius thought, but he had to agree that it was getting gloomy. He wrapped the cloak about him, thanked the engineer, then he set off walking towards the small building that was used to hold the plans and records relating to the bridge.

He was halfway there, and was passing a small hut when he heard a "Psssst!" He looked around to see a hand beckoning him towards the hut. With his hand on the hilt of his gladius, he walked towards the doorway. It was somewhat darker inside, but he could easily make out the form of the young man he had enticed into bridge building. He was unarmed, so Gaius quickly took his hand away from his gladius and asked, "You want something?"

"I want to thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to be quite so secretive," Gaius smiled.

"Yes, I do, and please, when you leave here, don't look back, and don't tell anyone you spoke to me."

"I didn't know I was so disliked."

"It's not that! I have some information, and if it were known I told you, I'd be killed."

"Then you'd better tell me what it is."

"There's a plot to kill the Chief and replace him with someone who will give refuge to Caratacus' men. There'll also be a raid by Caratacus' men so that it'll look like those killed were killed for aiding you, they'll destroy what they can of yours, and. ."

"And these people would kill you if they thought you'd told me about it."

"You have to save me."

"There's no need for you to be involved at all," Gaius smiled. "Do you know when this raid is going to take place?"

"In five days time, and I'm afraid I don't know the route they'll take."

"Tell me the names of those responsible."

The young man did, then when he finished, he pleaded, "Everyone will know it was me who gave you the names when you do whatever you are going to do to them. You've got to take me somewhere. ."

"I won't do anything to them until I catch the raiders," Gaius explained, "and I shall announce to everybody that those men talked."

"They may not," the man said doubtfully.

"They may not, but nobody else will know that. Now, when I leave, go back and act normally. If you run into trouble and you can escape, run to the legion. Tell them I told you to do this, and tell them I said they would protect you."

"They won't believe me."

"Probably not," Gaius reassured him, "but they won't let any Celt hurt you, and before they'd dream of doing anything to you, they'll check out your story with me, because if it were true and they let you get hurt, they know they'd be in deeper shit than you can probably imagine."

Gaius explained the situation to Matius, and three days later cavalry turmae quietly left to patrol the area, together with bands of exploratores. The orders were simple: this might be an exercise, but if they failed to find these raiders. . No explanation was needed; it was not their business to fail.

They did not. Two days later, a band of fifteen Celts appeared in a line, roped together, hands roped behind their backs, and gagged. They were separated and lashed to posts within separate tents where they were told individually that the complete details of their mission was required, including the names of Celts within the local village they were to contact. Some names were known. If they told everything they knew they would be kept as prisoners in Britain for a year, working on road building, then once the Roman Army had conquered the rest, they would be free to return to their families. If they were reluctant to cooperate fully, they would be sent to Rome as slaves, to work in the most dangerous mines. If they refused to cooperate at all, examples of a crucifixion were required for other purposes, and they would suffice. They would have an hour to think on this, then they would be approached at hourly intervals. As soon as enough information was gained, the opportunity would cease; those who had cooperated would be rewarded, those who had not would very soon wish they had.

At the end of the second hour, Gaius had all the information he needed. He approached the Chief and explained that his men had caught these raiders during a routine patrol, and on interrogation they had informed him of their mission.

"They aimed to help a small group of traitors to set up resistance and destroy Roman property," Gaius explained.

"I assure you, I wouldn't. ."

"I know," Gaius interrupted. "There were some who they felt would cooperate with us, and they were to be killed. Your name was top of their list, and you were to be replaced with. ."

"Who?"

"I don't think you need to know. He was one of these, all of whom were traitors."

"Then I'll. ."

"I've got a better idea."

"I can't let them. ."

"Of course you can't, but look at it this way. Your tribe has to pay taxes to Rome, but it can be in kind. Bundle them off as slaves, and with a bit of luck, that'll cover a couple of years of taxes for everybody, and because everybody who's not involved benefits, they'll all be on your side."

"I suppose they would," the Chief nodded.

"What everybody has to see," Gaius continued, "is that they benefit from accepting the Roman presence, and taking advantage of it."

"I suppose," came the less than convinced response.

"Time for you to think about how you can benefit. You realize where you are?"

"Here?" came the puzzled response.

"On the banks of a large river, which happens to be the best, if not the only safe harbour in storms on the lower east coast," Gaius explained. "Now, there are a small number of your men learning how to construct the bridge. You should arrange for them to build a wharf where ships can safely dock, then you can start trading. Shortly, someone I know is coming from Rome, and he will set you up with contacts. You can make a lot of money from this, if you do things properly. Assuming you are interested, that is?"

"I am. I'm very interested."

"Good! Now you should share with the men who will build your wharf, firstly because I want you to reward people who are helping Rome, and secondly because if you don't, they could build another one downstream, which would leave you in unnecessary competition."

"And you?"

"Those men will build a wharf," Gaius smiled, "and I shall personally pay them to build warehouses behind the wharf. I am hoping we can come to amicable agreements as to how to use the wharf and warehouses."

"Of course we can," the Chief nodded. From his point of view, he now understood the deal. As Gaius noted later, had he said all this was for the good of the Celts, or whatever, he would never have been believed. Once he could see a motive that he understood, compliance was no problem. There was a further issue. To do a business deal with an army Legate could never be bad; nobody would dare try stand-over tactics, because no group of criminals could exert more force than a legion. Celts threatening Celts was of little interest to anyone, but Celts threatening Roman interests could lead to slavery or the cross. This was a way of cementing in power and wealth.

* * *

Gradually, the days became longer, the storms less frequent, and ships came from Gaul with additional supplies. It also brought a visit from Plautius, who wished to know how the bridge was progressing.

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Gaius suggested. Since Plautius insisted on taking a small group of soldiers who had escorted him, for the sake of formality, Gaius took a similar group of his own soldiers. The bridge was not yet finished, but the pontoons were lashed in place and enough support was in place that a party could cross the river.

"I've also got the Celts to join in the construction, and they are building wharves, and if you look over there, there's a ship unloading right now."

"Well done," Plautius nodded. "You've got all the makings of a transport centre here." He paused, and saw the expression on Gaius' face change. "You see something?"

"Someone," Gaius nodded. "A very good friend." He turned to an Optio and said, "See that older man struggling with those crates? He's a very good friend of mine. Send some men down there to give him a hand, and escort him to my hut. When he gets there, make sure he gets some wine."

"Yes sir!" the Optio nodded, and took six men with him. Plautius continued examining details of the bridge construction, an act that amused Gaius because he was convinced that Plautius really knew very little about engineering or bridge construction, still he seemed favourably impressed, and his rank gave him the right to waste a little time. Gaius looked over to wharf, and smiled as Timothy seemed to step back to catch his breath, and when Timothy looked up, he waved to him. Timothy seemed to notice the bridge for the first time, and he waved back. Timothy then turned back towards his crate, then looked up, seemed to freeze, then he turned and ran towards the bridge. Two men with knives drawn charged after him. Gaius stared at them; he almost seemed to recognize one of them, but from where?

The two men were clearly more athletic than Timothy was, and it was obvious that they would easily overtake him, but fortunately Timothy had run in the best direction. When the two men saw the seven Roman soldiers, it was equally obvious to them that charging towards seven Roman soldiers with drawn weapons was less than a good idea. They turned and ran towards the north.

The Optio grasped Timothy, assured him he was safe, then he sent four men after the other two, however heavy infantry are not fast pursuers, and the men escaped.

Meanwhile, Gaius had excused himself from Plautius and had run towards Timothy.

"You're safe now," he assured the still-panting Timothy. "Who were they, and why were they after you?"

"It's all about the corn," Timothy gasped.

"You mean, they were stealing it?" Gaius shook his head doubtfully.

"Nobody was stealing the corn," Timothy replied. "What happened was this. I informed Quintus that I was going to watch the corn being unloaded at Ostia, I did, and nobody did anything to it. My first thought was that Quintus must be responsible, but I later found that according to the accounts, the corn was still going missing. There was one more shipload coming, so I changed plan. It occurred to me that the right amount of corn might be coming ashore at Ostia, but someone was simply stealing the money later and changing the accounts, so on the last shipment I hid near the granary. The corn arrived, I watched it being recorded, and once it was stored, I sneaked in and brought the records from Ostia. They were ten per cent different. It was then that the two men who had recorded the grain returned. Apparently one had left something behind, and they saw me. Of course, I also saw them. They must have decided that I knew, because they came after me. Fortunately, whatever they forgot was deeper in the granary, and I managed to duck around some sacks and get to the door. I got out and ran, and a couple of soldiers saw me. At that point I thought I was safe."

"So, you think they recognized you?"

"Definitely."

"Do you know who they were?" Gaius asked.

"I had seen them before," Timothy nodded. "One of them was one of Quintus' slaves, and the other I had seen before with Vipsania's father."

"Were either there today?"

"The thinner one was. He pointed me out to the other, who I'd never seen before."

"Optio, get someone to find Matius, and tell him I want some cavalry to go chasing those two. The leaders should come here for a description of who they're looking for." Gaius turned to Timothy, and indicated he should continue.

"I didn't know what to do," Timothy explained. "The man who had been associated with Vipsania's father presumably knew where she was, so it would have been easy for him to ambush me if I went back there. I had to escape, so I came here."

"As did they," Gaius mused, "still I suppose if they knew who you were, it wasn't too difficult to work out you might come here."

"What's it all mean?" Timothy asked.

"I don't know," Gaius admitted. "It could be someone stealing money, but I'm starting to think there's more to it. With Vipsania's father's acquaintance involved, and that soldier who was going to kill you, I'm beginning to suspect the theft was to raise money for another plot."

"How do you know he was a soldier?" Timothy asked.

"I thought I recognized him before," Gaius explained, "except I couldn't remember where. Now I do. He was the soldier that escaped from that time when they tried to coerce me into that ridiculous plot to get rid of Claudius."

"So you think they're still at it?"

"Someone is," Gaius said. "That soldier took a real risk coming here, because if I saw him, he was dead. He wouldn't take a risk like that simply to silence someone who was a witness to someone else stealing money. No, your problem wasn't that you saw the theft; it was that you saw who did it."

"So, what now?"

"We try and capture them. They're not Celts, so they'll have trouble hiding, but I suppose on the other side of the coin, the Celts hardly like us either, so maybe they'll get help. We'll just have to wait and see."

In the event, the men seemed to escape. As Gaius knew only too well, a few gold coins would buy a lot of protection, and probably a fishing boat would be only too happy to take two men over to Gaul.

The incident led to an irritation for Gaius, for if someone was carrying out organized theft to raise money for another move to overthrow Claudius, then it was quite likely this theft was widespread. He should write to Claudius and warn him that there were further moves against him, but what did he really know? Messala's ex-slave and a soldier known to have been a conspirator were involved, but was Messala? That was possible, but hardly proven because if Messala had used this man before, other conspirators would know of his involvement and could encourage, or even force the man to comply with the new conspirators' demands.

Quintus' slave was involved, but was Quintus? He was quite prepared to believe Quintus was inept, or that he was not very good at keeping vital information secret, but that did not make him a conspirator. That Quintus was married to Lucilla meant that he had to be very careful not to make wrongful accusations.

Then there was Vipsania. Was it possible that he was wrong about her after all? He was only too well aware that thinking like this was a poison, but it was a poison he could not leave alone.

There were letters from Vipsania. They seemed so innocent, he felt so badly about his suspecting her, but he could not let it go. The news from the estate passed over him, he had little enthusiasm for the news of the Princeps' court, all he could do was look for clues. His mood finally lifted a little through some quite perverse news:

Speaking of Quintus, I gather he has a new scheme in mind. As you will know, one of the reasons for invading Britain was to secure a supply of tin. Apparently tin is found in the extreme southwest, which is where Vespasianus is heading with the Augusta. I think Quintus thinks he can cash in on the very distant relationship and become the major trader in tin. It will be particularly interesting to see what Claudius thinks of that.

Gaius smiled to himself. Quintus was probably going to be out of luck. It was true that military invasions brought the opportunities for riches, but those opportunities did not involve the reason for the action in the first place. If Claudius invaded this island to secure the supply of tin, Claudius would know of its value, and he would have first say as to who had the right to develop it. If Claudius wanted to be generous, he would offer it to senators, to make such senators beholden to him. Still, an interest in tin was harmless enough, and it was possible Quintus could get involved since while Claudius would control the supply of tin, there were many things that could be done with it, and guaranteed access to some tin could bring riches. Since his engine would require quite a lot of bronze, maybe he should take some interest in tin as well. If Vipsania's letter was to be believed, Claudius might grant him some rights to tin or bronze! He glanced through the rest, then his eyes caught the last lines:

Spring will be coming soon, which means a return to campaigning. May the Gods be with you, and bring you victories quickly.

And bring him back to Rome, except the prophecy said he would not return to Rome until Rome fell. That would mean that something quite remarkable was going to happen in the coming year.

Chapter 29

Spring! The breakout was underway. The ninth was now marching north with the east coast on its right flank. Vespasian, having now successfully secured Cogidumnus as a client king and thus having appropriate control over the tribes to his rear, was now marching westward, the south coast on his left flank. The fourteenth was to strike out northwest to the lands of the Cornovii. Its primary role was to secure the left flank of the ninth and also to provide support for Cartimandua, Queen of the Brigantes, who had wisely elected to side with Rome. The twentieth, less a cohort left behind to maintain security at Camulodunum and the Thames harbour, was marching between the second and the fourteenth, directly towards the Dobunni.

Progress for the twentieth was rapid, as the first advance was through the land of the Atrebates, who, in the main, were allied to Rome. However, just as the British as a whole were not united against Rome, tribes of the Atrebates were not united for Rome, and this meant there would be the occasional skirmish. Roman policy was clear here. Tribes that rebelled would be punished mercilessly, but loyal tribes would be encouraged to be loyal. Recalling both Athene's prophecy and Rebecca's advice, Gaius implemented his own policy: after quashing the initial resistance, tribes were advised to become loyal, and if they took the advice, he would overlook the initial resistance. As he explained to Timothy, who was now accompanying him, he saw no reason to impose unnecessary slavery, nor to generate unnecessary hatred. This gave Timothy a slightly misguided feeling of pleasure, for he had initially railed against slavery when he had taught Gaius, and he felt this beneficial outcome was due to his own teaching.

* * *

Gaius strode into one of the villages that had offered particularly stiff resistance. Celtic women and children were cowering against a wall, while the remaining men were herded into a fenced enclosure. There was a noise on his left, and he turned to see a Celt shielding a young girl with his body, while threatening a soldier with a hammer used for beating metal.

"Stop!" Gaius commanded. "Soldier, step back for a minute. You, put down that hammer!"

"I'll kill my girl before you pigs get her. ."

"Stop!" Gaius yelled again. The Celt, strangely enough, did lower the hammer. "There's no need to kill anyone."

"My daughter's not going to be your. ."

"There's no need for that either," Gaius said simply. "Let me be clear about something," Gaius said, turning to the villagers. "If you wish to fight Rome, you will be enslaved, the men can be games fodder, and the women, well, he's guessed," Gaius said, pointing back to the Celt. "On the other hand, agree now to accept Roman occupation, pay a tribute, and you may continue living."

"Under Rome," someone said.

"True," Gaius said, "but how many of you get killed each year in intertribal conflict? How many have your crops burned? In the last ten years, how many harvests have you had without any loss through thieves, raiders, other tribes, how much have you had to give to your king? Think about it! Pay your tax, and that's it. All those other problems go. My legion will enforce that.

"You," Gaius then said to the Celt shielding the girl. "You're the village metal-worker?"

"So?"

"I've heard you're one of the best in Britain."

"So?"

"Suppose I asked you to make something for me."

"And if I don't, you'll. ."

"Leave you to your own devices," Gaius shrugged.

"And if I do?"

"I'll pay," Gaius replied.

"And my daughter?"

"If you were to be officially working for a Roman Legate, I somehow doubt that very many men will be bothering her. But if they do, I promise right now in front of all that they shall have to experience the three nails."

"Even Romans?" the Celt queried doubtfully.

"Any soldier who wilfully disobeys my clear orders has a very clear idea what to expect," Gaius replied coldly.

The Celt agreed, even if he remained somewhat doubtful. Gaius was satisfied. More of the smaller parts were being made. Soon, all that would be required would be the larger pipes and boiler.

Chapter 30

"Push!" Gaius yelled. Four soldiers were trying to free his cart from a boggy hole. There were mutters and cursing from the soldiers. Gaius grinned, and added, "Don't drop anything in the mud!" He paused, then added, "Or else!" This produced more swearing, then suddenly the cart lurched forwards and one of the soldiers tripped to fall face-forward into the mud. As he struggled back to his feet, he was greeted with much hilarity.

"You can stay on the down-hill side of the cart!" Gaius ordered with a shrug. This order was followed by more suggestions from the other men.

"Gaius!" From above, Timothy, the one man who called the Legate by his first name, was gesturing. "Celts!"

As Gaius rode towards him, Timothy turned and rode up-hill, gesturing for Gaius to follow.

Gaius reached the top of the hill at the same time as four Tribunes. A scout was standing before him.

The ground before them was open and grassed, although here and there a burnt stump could be seen protruding upwards. The area had obviously been cleared for farmland in the not too distant past, and although no animals could be seen, it seemed likely they had been there recently. The grassy slope dropped easily to a small stream that meandered along, with reeds at the side and plentiful weeds within. A casual glance suggested the stream would be about hip deep, and so would be easily crossed by wading, but wading would slow down troops, and would render them somewhat defenceless to arrows or rocks from a catapult. On the other side of the stream, the ground rose again, a little more steeply, to a corresponding hill on the far side. The far side had the occasional small ridge that was sometimes terminated in a relatively steep slope of eroded soil. In short, the far side was not well suited to the Roman tactic of close advance in line.

To the south, the stream broke up into a broad marsh, from which a number of old, stunted trees grew. More importantly, on both sides of the marsh, the land rose towards the hills in a rather gentler slope. It was a reasonably clear that an attack from the south would be preferable, except that the marsh would greatly slow the assembly of the troops and make them vulnerable to an artillery attack. Whether the Celts could take advantage of that was another issue, but even if they could not, any attack from there required a slow advance, always assuming troops could emerge from the marsh. Finally, experience had shown him that marsh and heavy infantry were basically incompatible.

About a mile to the north and on this side of the stream lay a few huts, apparently recently abandoned. On the far side of the stream, opposite this 'village', the land rose quite steeply, but worse, it was broken, and was an excellent barrier to line advance. Any concentrated attack from above would quickly break a line, and it would be almost impossible to plug such a gap quickly. To the north of the 'village' the forest began. There was no sign of any villagers, but two dogs remained in view. There was also no sign of the Celts.

"There's a strong British force, approximately five thousand men, camped on the other side of that hill," the scout reported. "They've erected a palisade of stakes."

And, Gaius thought to himself, they have a huge natural rampart and ditch between them and us.

"I presume they know we're here?" Gaius asked.

"They will now!" a tribune said, and pointed to the far hill where two Celts on horses had appeared to survey the same terrain.

"Even so," Gaius muttered, "they won't have seen the entire legion. Falco, take your three cohorts and two turmae of cavalry and in strict silence, keeping this hill as cover, march to the north unseen until you are out of sight of the opposition's scouts. Then you will wheel west, cross the stream and come though the forest to be able to attack from the rear. There will be no attack from me until tomorrow morning. You will remain strictly out of sight and you will show yourself only if you hear 'Advance at the double' on the largest horns. That signal will be reserved for you. I expect you to be ready to attack from first light tomorrow, but be prepared to remain undiscovered for somewhat longer. Any signal from you will indicate you have been found, and will indicate you need assistance. Get underway as quickly as you can, and under no circumstances light fires where they can be seen."

"Sir!" Falco nodded, saluted, and left.

"You!" Gaius addressed Lupus, "get the ballistae and catapults placed for directing fire at that far bank. If they charge us, I want to do as much damage as I can before they get over the stream. Fortify them, and devote one cohort to their defence.

"We shall set up camp here, so full fortifications will be constructed at once. Look busy, and try to give the impression that the full legion is here. Make sure that plenty of soldiers are seen to be fortifying this position."

"Yes, sir," Lupus nodded.

"The remaining Tribunes will be seen to get the cohorts into full defensive position as quickly as feasible. Matius, I want you to organize scouting parties to be seen to be investigating the swamp, and I want mounted exploratores to probe directly ahead, with strict orders to find out what they can with minimum risk to themselves."

"Minimum risk?" Matius frowned.

"It is more important that we are seen to be doing something than we actually do it," Gaius explained. "It is also important that we keep some sort of eye on what the enemy is doing. They will expect that. It's also probably desirable to engage in a couple of preliminary skirmishes. I want cavalry alae to investigate the stream, that village, and then probe over the bank, but under no circumstances go near the forest. If you meet resistance from superior forces, retreat."

"Retreat?" Matius asked, with a slightly surprised expression.

"After a preliminary skirmish," Gaius nodded. "The retreat has to look as if it is necessary. If you find a small party of Celts, by all means defeat them, and if possible, capture some, but I don't want to lose valuable cavalry on a nothing probe."

"The overall strategy?" Matius asked.

"I want to give the impression that I'm probing to the north as a feint for an attack through the swamp," Gaius said. "It would probably help if we found deep and treacherous water at the obvious crossing points, but we have to take what we can get. If possible, I wish to encourage the enemy to attack us."

* * *

"Legatus," the Centurion reported, "there's something odd on that hill." He pointed to the highest hill to the southeast.

"Explain!"

"There's one tree on the top of the hill."

"I see it," Gaius replied.

"At the very top there's something silver."

"So there is," Gaius nodded, as sunlight glinted off it.

"It wasn't there when we arrived."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Gaius said. "It may be that it was always there, but if it's like a shield, the sun may have to hit it at this angle for us to see it."

"You think it's Celtic signalling equipment?" the Centurion frowned. "I didn't know they used the sun."

"I don't know what it is," Gaius shrugged, "but it doesn't seem to be doing anything. Keep an eye on it, and if anyone starts signalling, let me now."

"Yes, sir."

Gaius watched the Centurion leave. A good man, like all the Centurions. Gaius looked again towards the tree on the distant tree. The silver object, whatever it was, was still reflecting sunlight. It was unlikely to be a shield, because Celts invariably built shields from wood or hides. It was obviously something metallic, but it was too far away to tell what it was, or, for that matter, to tell whether there was anyone up there with it. One thing was obvious; apart from possible signalling, it was too far away to be relevant. It could be a Celt observing the Romans, and that would be a good move, except that the position was such that there would be a better view of the Celts! If Caratacus wanted an observation point, he should have got closer. In fact, Gaius smiled to himself, he should have been in the forest to the north, because then he would have seen his detachment.

Perhaps he did have an observer to the north! Well, if he did, there wasn't much that could be done about it. He just had to hope his men would put an arrow in the spy before he could report. And if they couldn't, then the element of surprise would be gone for the encirclement. That would be unfortunate, but there was a limit to what could be done to prevent the enemy from having some success. In the meantime, any shield up that tree was hardly likely to be an immediate hazard.

He looked down across the slope. Already quite impressive defensive fortifications were present. The huge ditch and its turf ramparts already presented a significant obstacle to any direct charge, especially since such a charge would be up-hill. Stakes and other obstacles were nearly in place, and at the rear of the camp, cooking was underway. The ballistae and catapults were in place, and impressive piles of rocks and the large wooden arrows were piled neatly, awaiting orders to fire them. The men were now beginning to finish their work.

The twentieth had made good use of the time.

* * *

He looked up to the north. The detachment was now approaching the huts. Nothing happened when they arrived, and it was clear that they contained no hidden enemy.

The men approached the stream. There should have been a small bridge there, but the enemy had burned it. His troops entered the water. As it happened, the stream was not particularly deep, and it had a reasonably firm bottom. His men crossed without difficulty. The horsemen then began to ride up the hill.

It was just as they reached halfway that Celtic horsemen appeared on the brow of the hill. There were whoops, and a downhill charge. At first the Roman cavalry appeared to do very little, but then, just as the Celts were almost upon them, the Romans charged up-hill, and peeled to the left and right, those peeling to the right presenting lances to the Celts.

Two Celts impaled themselves on the lances, at the same time knocking the Syrian horsemen off their horses; one Celt managed to get a lance past the shield of a left wheeling horseman, sending the rider downhill with blood oozing from his lower right side, but the overall effect was that the Celts rode through the Syrians and were hurtling down towards the stream, now pursued by the Syrians.

Say what you would about Syrians, Gaius thought to himself, but they were excellent horsemen.

The Celts, now at a disadvantage, wheeled towards the bottom of the hill, and rode furiously towards the swamp. The Syrians turned to give chase, but now a hail of arrows descended on them from above. Two Syrians were struck, but managed to stay on their horses. The remaining horsemen must have decided that this was a losing chase, for they now turned and retreated towards the stream.

The Celts on the top of the hill now sent a stream of insults at the Romans, but as the average Roman could not understand their language, this achieved little.

A Roman scouting party returning from the swamp then produced two prisoners. Gaius stared at them, and advised them in a wooden tone that they should surrender on the spot, as the Celts were far too weak to beat his legion, at which point their pride made them give away information they should not have. Gaius gave no indication that this had happened, and he woodenly continued that he would release them, and before they were recaptured or killed they should tell any Celts that wished to surrender that they should do so now. If they swore allegiance to Rome, they could return to their farms, and get on with their lives. Before they left, they should have a look at what a full legion looked like.

The men were sent away, and in due course some message must have been conveyed because a new round of fiercer insults were thrown.

Eventually both sides settled in for the night. Each could see the lights of the fires of the other, each could see the sentries of the other, a small skirmish ensued in the swamp as each side sent a scouting party to attempt to sabotage the other, but as neither side could see much, this achieved little.

* * *

The following morning saw the Celts lined up on their hill, the Romans in formation, and the insults renewed. It was obvious that the Celts intended to defend this stream and let the Romans come to them, a sound tactic for defenders, Gaius was forced to acknowledge. Since Rome had to remove the opposition from the field, there was no option but to attack. Two cohorts were ordered to march towards the swamp, while three would make a direct crossing of the stream but then move towards the gentler slopes.

The Celts responded by marching a corresponding number of soldiers partly down the hill to greet the Romans when they emerged from the swamp, and they advanced a line partly down the hill to meet those directly crossing the river. The remaining Celts stood along the hilltop. The Celts would defend along a line and hold the Romans, and if this force alone was committed, they could commit more force to outflank the Roman advance, yet have force in reserve to counter any different Roman advance.

Caratacus might not be brilliant, Gaius noted, but he was certainly better than adequate. There would be no stupid mistake from the Celts. There was now little option but to attack front on in full strength. He would time the advance so that it was just beginning to advance up-hill when the others began to emerge from the swamp. He would space the advance so that he could wheel towards the left if necessary to link with the others, or alternatively advance with a useful space between the units. One cohort would advance behind the main advance, able to block any attempt to punch between the two forward units, or be able to wheel right and give the Celts a flanking problem. He smiled to himself as he realized he would now have four groups of cohorts. Since a cavalry charge up-hill was unlikely to succeed, the uncommitted cavalry could rest for the time being.

On the signal three cohorts began to advance towards the stream. The Celts on the hill watched impassively. The Roman force now began crossing the stream; the Celts on the hill continued to watch impassively. Gaius nodded to himself. Caratacus was no fool. He was not going to give up the flexibility that came with height advantage, and he was not going to send his men into catapult range. He would let the Romans come to him.

As the Roman force emerged from the stream and continued to march forward, Celtic archers took position. The Romans immediately formed into the testudo formation and with shields locked into a seemingly impenetrable wall in front of the line and over the heads of the troops, then they marched relentlessly upward. Gaius noted that Caratacus had refused to fall into the traps of sending forces down to try to outflank the Romans, or to try to force a hole between the two cohort groups. He was going to deal with each separately, front on, and not yield the height advantage.

The Celts poured arrows and rocks onto the Romans and when, despite the shields, some fell, the resultant space was immediately filled and the shield defence maintained. The Romans advanced, and when halfway up the Celts now began to send down huge boulders. The Romans let these pass between them with only a minimum of damage, but in doing so they broke the testudo formation, and the accompanying rain of arrows caused an uncomfortably large number of casualties. Nevertheless, the advance continued. Then as the wall reached within forty meters of the line of the Celtic infantry, with wild yells, these Celts charged down onto the two Roman groups.

At the point when the charges were in full flight, Gaius knew that Caratacus would have lost full control of his men. He indicated for the large horns to signal "Advance at the double." The horns blew, and an instant later, a signal could be heard from over the far hill, indicating that the advance had commenced.

Some Celts faltered, others did not, and a fierce but scattered wall of men hit the Roman lines. The initial impact, with lances and axes, was almost irresistible and Romans fell, and in two places the line buckled. Fierce hand to hand fighting ensued as the Centurions desperately tried to plug the holes. The most useful tactic was for the first line to take as much as it could, then fall back and be replaced by the second line. Always a difficult manoeuvre to execute properly, here it was almost impossible because of the broken terrain, and the weight of Celts pouring onto the front line. If they gave ground, that weight might become impossible to hold before the second line could form its position, and accordingly the front line had to hold and fight. Gaius ordered the rear maniples of the main line to begin to make a move towards the right, to commence a flanking probe.

The Celts, however, still had height advantage, and found that if the front line simply defended with large shields, those behind could use their shoulders to guide lances. The battle was now one in which the front line of the Celts defended as well as they could and struck with swords where possible, while those behind wielded lance and axe. Celts fell, but so did Romans, and wherever a Celt fell and rolled, it frequently partially tripped a Roman, allowing a further strike by a Celtic sword. The scene was one of total confusion, with the hideous sounds of yelling and swearing as strikes were made and received. Although the Roman line made occasional steps forward, at this stage the battle could have gone either way.

Then, as the rather unexpected sound of battle came from behind them, the Celts faltered. Something was happening behind the hill, and they had no idea what it was. What they did know was that they had few reserves, which meant that their supplies would be taken and, if present, families were vulnerable to slaughter. Some wanted to get back, some wanted to flee, and at that very time it was almost as if a wave of uncertainty washed across the Celts. It was at this moment that the right flanking probe began to make more progress, and because of the general uncertainty, the Celts did not cover it properly. Although the battle would continue for an hour, at that very moment victory for the Romans was decided.

* * *

A victory always felt good, but for Gaius it was always soured by the groans of the injured. For the enemy dead he felt nothing, but there was no pleasure to be had from hearing pain and suffering from those still living, nor from the cowering and fearful looks of the losers. His instructions on losers were clear; once a Celt surrendered or carried no arms, provided he or she followed instructions they were to be treated fairly. Failure to do so would be failure to obey the orders of the Legatus. Few soldiers were unaware that the resultant punishment would be severe at best. The policy was as much practical as generous of spirit. Some of the prisoners might be needed for other purposes, and there was no point in generating unnecessary hatred. If some were eventually to be sold as slaves, there was no point in injuring the goods.

Visiting his men was always bittersweet. There was always joy visiting the groups of soldiers, primed with wine, telling the somewhat exaggerated stories of their exploits, but any such sweetness was always soured by knowing who had been killed, and by visiting the seriously injured. The doctors and their herbs seemed to be able to do miracles sometimes, but often the miracle simply did not happen. Only too often a good man descended into a stinking fever before dying, and it was particularly hurtful to see the man smell his own death before it visited him.

The victory was more or less complete. A high per centage of the committed Celtic force appeared to have been killed or captured, and large amounts of supplies, gold, and weapons had been confiscated. On the other hand, Roman losses were heavier than he would have liked. Any Roman death was one too many, but it was not practical to fight a war against a determined, ferocious and capable enemy without losing soldiers. As expected, Caratacus himself had escaped with some of his senior officers, and with some cavalry.

Since the enemy had been routed, opposition would now cease for a few weeks. Once this site was under control, the legion would advance, taking a good number of miles, villages, and prime land under control. The legion should be able to advance well into the land of the Dobunni before meeting further serious opposition. If he marched at the rate Julius did, all the clearly arable flattish land in southern Britain could be under Roman control by the summer solstice. At that point, Rome would control most of the food supply and the arable land. Most of the Celtic farmers would abandon Caratacus and head home, to try to avoid losing their farms.

He had heard that Vespasian was meeting strong opposition to the south. If he wanted to win his bet, he could wheel slightly south and head for the mouth of the large river.

Not that military strategy should be, nor in his case would be, influenced by a bet.

Chapter 31

Gaius stared first in disbelief, and then with increasing anger at the orders from Plautius. The twentieth was to cease its advance for the time being and instead consolidate its position. He must reign in his enthusiasm and cease wandering unsupported through enemy terrain, and he should wait until the other legions caught up and a rough line was formed. In the mean time he was ordered to travel south to meet with Vespasian to coordinate the southwestern push. What sort of orders were these? Orders from an overly cautious unimaginative bureaucrat!

There were two problems with these orders. The first was that the best part of a month would be lost, and besides the fact he could probably reach Aquae Sulis by then, which would cut the supply for and isolate the southern Celts, the time taken going to and fro would mean that the information on which the decision was reached would be out of date. The two legions were simply too far away from each other for meaningful coordinated operations.

Now was the time to advance, while the enemy was in disarray. Plautius seemed concerned that the twentieth might get isolated if it advanced too far, and be encircled. What cautious nonsense! If an enemy unit was to get between the twentieth and the second, the two legions would crush them, and if they did not, he would hardly be encircled. Plautius' strategy of slow and steady consolidation would work, in time, but lightning fast advances were the way to go about it. The objective was to secure as much territory as possible before those who were against Rome could form a coordinated resistance. If Plautius did not move fast, Caratacus could reunite tribes to him, and if he used them properly, by raiding relatively undefended centres, fighting brief battles, inflicting quick damage, then retreating into the forests and swamps, he might have a chance, or at the very least he would provide sustained resistance that would tie up many soldiers and would be expensive to put down.

On the other hand, if the twentieth advanced rapidly now he could make it as far as the western mountains almost unopposed, as the Celts would not have had time to regroup and reorganize a new army. Such a bold advance would cut off opposing tribes in the south from help from the north. Since there were no unified British tribes, those in the north would have to think about accommodating Rome, while those in the south, cut off from help, would have to think about making peace. But instead of the quick, bold move, he had to go south and talk, and when he had finished talking he would advance into territory the enemy had had time to fortify. Great strategy!

However, orders were orders.

He could hardly believe the second message either. Quintus and Lucilla were travelling to meet Vespasian, and he would meet them there. Vipsania had tagged on and had joined the party.

How could Quintus be so stupid! Had he no idea that he would be travelling through a recent war zone? The party had originally been invited to Britain by Cogidumnus; apparently Cogidumnus was under the impression that Quintus had influence with Vespasian and with the Princeps. Visiting Cogidumnus was safe enough, but heading west? Was Quintus acting as some envoy for Cogidumnus? Or, more likely, did he have his eyes on tin?

Or was Sabinus the problem? Vespasian would report that he had conquered and pacified the tribes, and Sabinus would advise that the land behind Vespasian was pacified. The problem with staff officers was they spent too much time in their tents. When Vespasian said he had pacified land, what he would mean was that opposing armies were removed from the region. That did not mean that law and order was fully imposed. In the chaos following war, there would always be the opportunist criminals, ready to rob and kill passers-by, and a determined enemy would always send raiding parties to harass supply lines.

Not that he could do anything about this. He had to obey Plautius' orders, so he would prepare to travel. And perhaps there was one good outcome possible. As Vipsania must go back to Rome, she could take his writings and his engine parts. The truth of the matter was, commanding a legion on rapid advance left little time for inventing, while the continual travel through marshes was likely to damage his writings. They should be kept in safety, and that meant being kept in Rome.

He would not be separated from these items for long, as Claudius had promised that he would return to Rome at the end of the campaigning season, by which time Caratacus should no longer be a military threat. And he would not, if only he could set off in pursuit instead of going on a talkfest with Vespasian. Not that he could do much about that. He, and a small party, would leave in the morning.

On the other hand, there was no need for the legion to be sitting on its hands. The general direction was westwards, and at the very least the control of Aquae Sulis was desirable. If the legion could make that in good time, the scission of supplies and troops between the north and the tin mines of the south would be at least reasonably achieved. It was impossible to prevent squads from traversing the heavily forested country, but large troop movements and large trains of carts would be easily seen and intercepted. He would call the Tribunes to his tent, and leave orders for a march to commence as soon as the local clean up was completed. Plautius would not be pleased, but so what?

In the meantime, he must prepare to travel. He would take a small squad of soldiers and horses, together with a couple of extra horses to carry the bags of his precious possessions. There was work to do.

Chapter 32

A further reason why these orders made little sense, Gaius realized, was the denseness of this forest and the general difficulty in making progress. In all probability, Plautius had no idea because he would never get out of Army Headquarters. However, this forest was so dense and the tracks so narrow that the rear of his thirty man party could not see the leader. A perfect spot for an ambush! His men were trying to be quiet, but. .

There was a noise ahead. Celtic shouts! From a small party, judging by the number of voices. Gaius ordered some men to guard the horses, then he led the rest forward, as quietly as they could, to take cover outside a clearing. Gaius peered past a bush. On his right, four Celts were doing what they could to kill one solitary Roman soldier, and judging by the wounds already visible, they would soon succeed.

But on his left six other Celts were pursuing. . what? A man? No! But whatever it was, it had two legs, two arms and a head, and it was dressed, although it was dressed in clothes the likes of which Gaius had never seen. The colour was something like a cross between olive-green and brown, and no dye like that was known to Rome. Then there was the cut: the cloth seemed to fit the body to give maximum freedom, but that must mean an enormous amount of sewing. Two straps ran over his shoulder, to connect with a large black bag, and this seemed to be made of something that Gaius had never seen before. Then there were the boots: quite different from anything he had ever seen. To start with they were jet black, and came half way up his legs, almost seamlessly. The creature was about three-quarters as big as a man, it had a strange leathery skin, a largish head totally devoid of hair, and its arms looked so thin that it would not be able to wield a sword. Apart from a strange silvery object in its right "hand", it had no visible weapon yet it was standing its ground, threatening the Celts.

The Celts were hardly likely to be afraid of that as a weapon! They were not. Four charged, waving swords. The silvery object flashed and a Celt fell to the ground, twitching slightly. The strange creature seemed to think this would warn off the remaining Celts, and then seemed almost frightened when it did not. The object flashed again, another Celt fell to the ground, but then the remaining Celts were almost onto it. It turned to flee, then suddenly disappeared, apparently falling into some sort of disguised pit. But as it fell, the silvery object flew to one side.

There was no alternative. Whatever that silvery thing was, it must not fall into the hands of the Celts. Gaius signalled for archers. Five arrows flew, and cut down the two chasing and the two remaining Celts. The remaining soldiers broke cover to deal with those who would have finished the soldier, but for their surprise at the strange weapon. There was a moment of indecision before they turned to flee, and that moment sealed their fate. The fight was one-sided and brief; they were neither fleeing nor facing properly, and while they were off-balance gladii thrust into their ribs.

Meanwhile, Gaius had sprinted across the clearing to where he had seen the silvery object disappear. It was easily found, and Gaius carefully picked it up.

It was exquisitely made, everything so smooth, so perfect. The main features were a tube-like rod that Gaius had noted had been pointed at the intended victim. Accordingly, he made certain that this was not pointed at himself. Below that was a broad part that the creature had used to hold the object, while near the top of it, on one side, there was a small cylinder that was glowing. At the same point on the other side of the handgrip was a small lever, while in front of the handgrip, a button. At the base of the handgrip there seemed to be a catch. Carefully pointing the object at a log, he pulled on the catch, to find the inside of the handle begin to fall out. He carefully pulled this out, and noticed that the cylinder had ceased glowing. He looked at this new object. This was quite complex, and he understood little or nothing about it, except it clearly had a top and a bottom, and a front and back. It presumably had to be put back in the right way. Since it should be the right way, he pushed it back in, and pushed over the catch.

The light was now back on in the cylinder. He looked very carefully at it, and saw there were notches. Twenty in all, and the light went up to number thirteen. He pointed the weapon at the log, and pushed the lever. Nothing happened, except that the light went out. He pressed the button. Nothing happened. He pulled the lever back to where it had been and pressed the button. There was a cloud of wood dust. He pressed the lever to what was presumably a way of making it safe, then, as an afterthought, looked at the cylinder. It was not glowing. He nodded to himself, pulled the lever back, and the cylinder began glowing. It glowed up to twelve notches. He pressed the lever again, and the glow went off. He could use this weapon twelve more times.

"What in the name of Hades is this?" Timothy's voice asked. Gaius looked up, to see him standing beside the pit.

"I have no idea," Gaius replied, "but it has a killing device we know nothing about." He stepped over to the pit and looked down. "You!" Gaius yelled, and pointed at the creature. "Keep your hands visible!"

The creature simply looked bemused.

"It doesn't understand," Timothy said.

"It'll understand this," Gaius said simply. "You!" he said, pointing to a soldier. "When I point this at you, spread your arms out, and show the palms of your hands."

"Yes sir."

"You!" he continued, pointing at the creature. He showed the weapon, then he flicked the switch, pointed to the green light, and showed it to the creature, then he pointed towards the soldier. The soldier spread the hands as ordered, then Gaius pointed the weapon at the creature. The message was clear. The creature showed the insides of its "hands".

"Get it out of the pit," Gaius nodded towards the soldiers, "but make sure it can't hide behind you, and don't let it reach for hidden weapons."

"It's a demon! I can't. ."

"Yes you can. You saw what it did to the Celts? It used this, and I'm reasonably sure it'll work just as well on it as the Celts." Gaius saw that the man was undecided. He stared coldly at him, and ordered, "Do it!"

The fear on the soldier's face was obvious, but the Roman discipline came to the fore. "Yes sir."

The creature was pulled from the pit without incident.

"Hold its arms out," Gaius ordered, then he reached into the creatures clothes and searched. Before long, he had two further objects that clipped into the handle of the weapon he held, and a small number of other objects, the nature of which he did not understand.

Gaius then took the bag, and noticed it was quite heavy. He pulled on the flap, and was surprised to see it open, admittedly with a strange noise. He pushed the flap back down, and found that when he pressed it, it sealed. He then pulled it open again, and looked inside. Inside was a rather large metallic object, with a tube-like ending. He lifted it carefully, and saw a black ending. He pulled gently at that, and found it came off in his hands, whereupon he found himself looking at a round piece of the clearest glass he had ever seen. The glass had a perfectly uniform clear surface. He glanced back at he creature, and saw that it was a little concerned, as if it were willing him not to break this object. He had no idea what it was, but then he suddenly remembered seeing the silver light up the tree. He guessed that this was some sort of device for watching things from a distance, and since the device had done no harm, and the creature had made no effort to use it against the Celts, he guessed it was not a weapon. He would have to look into this at a later time, but in the meantime, the creature could carry it. He gave another glance at the black object. It and the bag were made of materials he had never seen before. And for that matter, the silvery object was made of a metal he had never seen before. He put the cap back over the glass, put the object back in the bag and handed it back to the creature.

The creature seemed surprised, but it nodded, as if in gratitude that Gaius had not damaged it.

"Sir!"

Gaius looked up to see one of the other soldiers looking as if he had something to say but was not very keen on saying it. "Yes?"

"The soldier, sir, was part of a party escorting a Quintus Flavius. ."

"Escorting?" Gaius asked. "There weren't women in this party?"

"Yes sir. Two."

"What happened?" Gaius asked, his voice filled with the fear of someone who can guess the answer.

"Captured by Celts, sir. Some of them chased him, and. ."

"We have prisoners?"

"Two, sir."

"Good. Ask them where their camp is, how many of them there are, find out what you can. Tell them if they wish to stay alive, they will tell me, now. No! Wait! Tell them if they don't tell me, they'll be brought over here one at a time and given to this demon here!"

The demon was stood up so the Celts could see it. Their superstition was clear, they cowered in fear, and the information flowed.

There was a party of twenty camped a couple of miles ahead, and they were part of a far larger raiding party who had come down from the north. The twenty would rejoin the large party in two days. Gaius nodded. So this was Caratacus' new strategy. Send raiding parties in behind enemy lines, to disrupt communications, steal food, kill. . Possibly, this was as good a strategy as was likely to be open to him. However, for Gaius the message was clear. If he were ever to see his wife again, he would have to do something fairly quickly.

"You," Gaius said to one of his most skilled exploratores, "will take the wounded man as quickly as you can to Vespasian. Stay out of sight, and bring help. Tell Vespasian I am going to try to rescue the Romans while it's still possible. I expect to succeed if all I have to deal with is the small band there, but if the larger party turns up, I will need whatever help I can get, as quickly as possible."

"Yes sir," the man nodded, and turned away.

"A Legate should not go off on silly expeditions," Timothy warned. "You're too important, and. ."

"And they have my wife and my sister," Gaius countered coldly. "What sort of man would I be if. ."

"I know," Timothy interrupted. "I just felt I should point out your duty."

"Timothy," Gaius said with a touch of despair, "I'm not indispensable. If I get killed, in six months time the twentieth will have forgotten I existed. If I do nothing now, I'll be dead for the rest of my life."

"And what about these?" Timothy asked, as he pointed to the two prisoners.

"They will come with us. Let it be made clear to them that if they make any attempt to contact the other Celts, that will be considered a violation of their terms of surrender, and I shall kill them on the spot."

"They've got wounds," Timothy said. "They won't be able to go very fast."

"Tend to them as best you can," Gaius replied, "but let them know they either keep up or die. We shall try to maintain a reasonable but not exhausting pace."

It took almost twenty minutes before the prisoners were ready to march, and this was time that Gaius was loathe to give them, but he needed them to find the camp so the time had to be spent.

As it happened, the prisoners were not as necessary as Gaius had feared. After an hour's moderate march, smoke from the Celtic camp could be seen, and before long, voices could be heard. The Romans crept towards the camp, which was in a clearing.

The value of the Roman marching camp was clear. The layout and construction of this Celtic camp offered no defensive value apart from the fighting skills of the inhabitants. Certainly, there were guards, but they could not look everywhere. There, tied to posts were Vipsania, Lucilla, two soldiers, and that clod Quintus! Yes, they were kept at the side of the camp, which made rescue a little easier. Nevertheless, they were about twenty paces from cover.

There were seemingly two objectives in this operation, but in fact there was only one. Superficially, rescue of the prisoners was a prime objective, but in reality the prime objective was to kill the Celts. If he failed in that, the main party would learn what had happened, and would most likely catch up with him before he could reach the Augusta. While outnumbered even here, there was little doubt that he could defeat the Celts at this camp, provided he made good use of surprise. Equally, there was no doubt that he could not survive an attack by several hundred Celts.

If all he wanted to do were to rescue the prisoners, the simplest approach would be to sneak in after dark, and rescue them unseen. Unfortunately he may not be unseen, and in the dark escape through this forest would be slow. Finally, every minute made it more likely the major Celtic party would turn up. No! It might seem to be a gamble to launch a frontal attack in full daylight, but the night rescue depended entirely on remaining unseen, and nobody noticing the rescue until the following morning.

Time to commence. First, the prisoners were gagged. They did not like that, but they understood the reason. His archers would creep to the far side of the camp, and should get off two volleys before any effective opposition could be mounted. Half his foot soldiers would protect the archers, and if they remained hidden in the shrubbery until the last instant, each should kill a Celt with a pilum before the Celts realized what was really happening. With most of the attention now directed to that side, he would lead the attack from the rear. Three soldiers had to remain behind, one to guard the demon and the others to control the horses and prisoners. Any attempt by the prisoners to make themselves known would lead to their immediate deaths. He took a bow from his horse then he gave the orders and watched everyone get into position.

So far, so good! Everyone was in place, and the Celts were seemingly unaware. The first volley of arrows struck, and four Celts fell. The next volley came, and three more failed to evade quickly enough, and were struck. More arrows flew, and as the Celts bunched together to make better use of their shields, the pilii flew. Wild yelling broke out, and the Celts charged towards the forest, to engage the source of their troubles, but half had had to drop their shields, and arrows tore into them. Gaius noticed that Vipsania had looked up, hope in her eyes. Gaius held his hand up to hold back the men near him until the Celts actually reached the forest boundary. Then he signalled by letting off two arrows.

He continued shooting arrows as his men sprinted towards the prisoners. Vipsania's eyes lit up to see Timothy, and then him as he ran towards her. She was so pleased, and so concerned for his safety. He and Timothy quickly began cutting ropes, while the soldiers attacked the other Celts left to guard the prisoners. When Vipsania was free, he gave her the knife, then she and Lucilla began to cut Quintus' ropes. One of the Celtic guards had managed to yell a warning, but by now there was furious fighting going on in the forest. Some Celts turned back towards the camp, but by the time they were half way towards the small Roman squad, the prisoners were free, and were being escorted back towards the horses.

Then instead of fleeing, Gaius ordered the advance. The charging Celts, instead of reaching the unguarded backs of Roman soldiers, found themselves charging straight at the soldiers. Then, just as they were about to reach them, Gaius ordered the shields locked. As the Celts impacted onto the shields the Romans leaned forwards, and as the Celts at the rear ran into those held on the shields, the stabbing started.

After a few brutal minutes, this little battle was over, however two Celts with less courage, or more sense, had begun to run towards the forest well away from where the previous fighting had occurred. Gaius let fly an arrow, which struck one in the back and brought him to the ground, then a second that struck the other man on the shoulder. However, the man ran on, and disappeared into the forest. Two soldiers gave chase, but were unsuccessful. The soldiers were about to kill the wounded Celts, but Gaius stopped them, and ordered the immediate recovery of every pilum and arrow that was available then a retreat to the horses. Killing the wounded to maintain secrecy was pointless once one man had escaped.

As Gaius approached the horses, Vipsania rushed towards him and hugged him. Gaius quickly kissed her, then asked her to get onto one of the horses. He turned to Lucilla, gave a quick smile of greeting, and pointed to a second horse. Those wounded were placed on horses, and only two horses remained, one of which carried supplies, and one carried Gaius' writings and metal objects. Quintus, who up until this moment had been letting anyone who was interested know how badly the Celts had treated him, strode towards the horse carrying Gaius' supplies.

"You will leave that horse alone," Gaius said coldly.

"But I have to ride! And this is only. . just junk!"

"You will run with the rest of the men," Gaius said simply.

"You can't order me around! I'm not. ."

"You are correct. Technically, I can't order you, but I don't have to take you either. You don't have to run. If you want to walk, and take your chances with the Celts. ."

"You don't like me, do you?" Quintus gave a surly scowl. "You think I took your wretched corn. ."

"We can argue about that later. Either walk, or take this rope and lead this. . whatever!" Gaius said coldly, and handed him the rope holding the demon.

"Who. ? What??" Quintus gasped.

"I have no idea," Gaius shrugged, "although I hope to find out. But first, we have to get out of here. Centurion! Two advanced scouts. We give them a couple of minutes, then we move, at the double for the first hour. We go northwest until we are out of sight of this camp, then, since we have to assume the main band will come back here and the prisoners will tell them which direction we went, I want to go in some other direction. When we turn, I also want an option where it is not obvious that we have changed direction. No soft mud to leave horses' footprints, either way. Tell the scouts the emphasis is on trying to conceal where we eventually go."

"Yes, sir."

Gaius looked around. Everything seemed as satisfactory as it was going to get. There was no sign of Celts, and the Romans had organized themselves with the efficiency expected of them. Quintus was standing around grumbling about this and that, but nobody was taking much notice of him.

Everybody was taking glances of the demon, but were almost too afraid to look directly at it. On the other hand, the demon itself seemed to be less than confident, and it was searching around, cowered, but looking for some means of escape.

Vipsania seemed fascinated by it, and, when Gaius came over towards her, she asked in an almost awed tone, "What is that?"

"It's a member of some race which obviously isn't human. They're far more advanced than we are, and if there's enough of them who wanted to, they could conquer and enslave the entire Roman people."

"But that's. ."

"It means that finding out who they are, and what they're doing, is a prime goal."

"Then you'll have to make peace with them," Vipsania pointed out.

"I guess so," Gaius nodded. That thought had not occurred to him, and in fact he had been so busy organizing the escape that up until now he had not even considered the problem of what to do with the demon.

"In which case," Vipsania offered, "you should untie him or her, and try to treat him or her reasonably."

Gaius stared at her, then nodded. "You're quite correct," he said. It had not occurred to him that he might need cooperation from this demon, and he was still far from convinced that he could ever trust it far enough to let it out of his hands, but another niggling thought struck him: if there were more of these demons nearby, the situation could be reversed. If more demons turned up, what would he do? Fight? Try to negotiate? The latter was difficult, because the demon did not seem to understand him.

He walked towards the demon, and said, "I don't know whether you understand this, but I am going to untie you. Do not try to escape." He began untying. When he finished, he led the demon towards the horse that carried his bags. He lifted him up, then said, "Here! Hang on!"

"Why does he get a horse when I don't?" Quintus muttered.

"Because he may be more important than you," Gaius grinned. "Lead the horse." He turned towards the demon as the horse started to walk, and said, "Hang on!"

As the horse began to walk, Gaius stared in disbelief, which rapidly turned to deeper concern. This creature had obviously never been on a horse before, but even stranger, it was becoming apparent that the creature had never even seen a horse before, at least up close. If it had never been on a horse, where had it come from? It could not have come from these islands, so from where? Thanks to Aristotle, he knew the Earth was a very big place. Perhaps it came from the other side. If it did, how many of them were there? How many others knew of Rome? Was this a lone explorer? If so, what should they do?

Whatever this was, it seemed not to understand Latin. That was a problem, for he had to establish some form of communication.

It was then that a very frightening thought struck him: the very future of Rome might depend on what he did next. Then the prophecy returned. He would return to Rome in ruins. If there were an army of similar creatures with similar weapons, suddenly that prophecy was realistic. It seemed two options were available to him. He could kill this creature, and hope to keep the existence of Rome a secret. If the creature had friends who discovered what had happened, that could precipitate the very disaster he was trying to avoid. He could try to make the creature an ally. The creature could appear to become friendly, then turn on him, and again the disaster would be precipitated. There seemed to be no correct answer.

There was now no point in taking the wounded Celtic prisoners, so he tied them to the posts, then ordered a march to the northwest. They set off slowly, but quietly, and Gaius looked back to see the prisoners watching carefully where they went. That was inevitable. They marched for about half an hour when they came to a large expanse of quite stony ground. One of the scouts greeted them, and indicated that there was a stony expanse to the southwest. It was not perfect, but it was the best available. There was forest to the north, with more than one track. If they could clear the open area before the Celts came, the Celts would have a choice.

Gaius thanked the scout, and told him to find the others and tell them the party was heading on his recommended path. If the scouts could not rejoin the party, they were to make their way as best they could to the Augusta.

After an hour of double marching, it was clear that Quintus was almost exhausted. Rather reluctantly, Gaius called for a halt, and produced some food. After handing out some rations, he took some to the creature. It stared at the flat bread, almost suspiciously, then shook its head. Gaius guessed that it suspected the bread had gone off, and he had to admit that it had not necessarily travelled well since it had been prepared the previous night, so he broke off a piece, ate it, then offered the rest to the creature. Again it shook its head in the negative, but it did point to the water bottle. Gaius handed it the bottle, and it drank vigorously, then nodded as if in appreciation, and handed back the bottle.

All of this worried Gaius even further. The creature was thirsty and it accepted drink. It would also be hungry, but it refused food. Why?

Then the march resumed, this time at ordinary marching pace. Progress seemed to be good, but then, just as they approached some more flat land he looked up to see real concern on the face of the creature. It was looking towards where they had come from, and. . Then Gaius heard what the creature had heard: the sound of pursuit. Gaius nodded towards the creature and tried to indicate that the creature would remain as safe as anyone while in the party. It was then that the creature pointed to a small hill with a flat top.

Gaius stared, then nodded. The hill had reasonably steep sides, it was not very large, and it was probably the most defensible site nearby. The other option was to stay in the forest and hide, but since he could hear the barking of a dog that was unlikely to work. They could also try to run, but one look at Quintus showed that would not work either. His best chance would be to find a defensible position and hope they could survive long enough for Vespasian's men to arrive. That hill was the nearest and perhaps the only realistic defensible position. Gaius ordered the march.

They reached the base of the hill at about the same time the Celts emerged from the forest. As the party began to climb, Gaius ordered all water bottles to be refilled from the small stream at the base of the hill.

By the time they had reached the top of the hill, the Celts had nearly reached the base. There were nearly four hundred of them, and there was no possibility of winning against that many in an open fight. On the hill, however, there were chances. He remembered his exercise against the General, where he had tried to refight the battle of Alesia. There were similarities here. If the Celts massed in one place, he could go down the other side. If the Celts surrounded the hill, they would have to break up into quite small parties that would have to be well separated, and now a concentrated attack on one such party might let them break out. There was also the redeeming feature of there being a number of large rocks on the hill. These could inflict considerable damage to masses on a steep slope. Gaius sent one of his men to check for other ways up, and possibly down.

There could be no breakout yet. His party was tired, and needed to regain strength. Also, it was possible that troops from the Augusta might turn up, which would make any attempt at escape pointless. The top of this hill was by far the best place from which to signal. Unfortunately, there was no sign of help from the west.

"Now look what you've done!" Gaius turned to see Quintus embarking on another pitiful moan. "There's no escape! We're going to die!"

Gaius stared angrily at him, then sadly towards Lucilla. This was a crisis. He could not have Quintus going on like this. It was bad for morale, and to have someone speaking to a Legate like that was bad for discipline. But he was Lucilla's husband, and. .

Lucilla appeared to realize, because she stepped forward and spoke to Quintus. "It's not Gaius' fault. If it wasn't for him we would still be tied to a post, and I'd probably be raped by now. We should thank him for rescuing us."

"Some rescue!" Quintus grumbled. "They've caught us again, and. ."

"They caught us because you couldn't keep up," Lucilla pointed out. "If we hadn't had to stop. ."

"Don't you answer me back, bitch!" Quintus spat, and strode forward to strike Lucilla.

Gaius leaped forward, and stood between Quintus and his sister. "If you want to hit someone, try me," he said coldly. "I should add that you might be better off to try fighting Celts, if you've still got any spine."

Quintus stared at Gaius, then backed down. "If we'd killed that thing, and given me the horse. ." he began grumbling. The creature seemed to understand, and flinched away from Quintus.

"It had the horse because it could use the horse without throwing away my belongings," Gaius said simply.

"You could have thrown that rubbish away."

"I could throw you to the Celts," Gaius pointed out. "If you don't fight with us, I just might do that."

"You'd like to do that, wouldn't you? That wife of yours told you I'd taken your wretched corn, didn't she?"

"All right! Since you raised this matter, let's settle it. Did you take corn money?"

"I never received a sesterce from your corn!"

Gaius noticed the word 'received', and muttered, "I believe you, and I think I know who did. Now, back to your post!"

Quintus stared at him, then muttered, "Your stupid wife would've benefited, you know."

"Quintus, either you fight with us, or start running. Make up your mind."

Quintus backed away, and said nothing.

"If you're going to stay, unless you are any use with sword or long spear, you should simply throw rocks," Gaius ordered. "Your position will be on this point here. This is the steepest part, and anyone climbing will have to use their hands, and go slowly. I doubt too many will try, but if they do, you must hit them with a rock, at least as big as this," and he picked up a rock that would have weighed several kilograms.

"I can't throw that very far," Quintus shook his head.

"No need. It will fall quite adequately by itself, and if the man wants to leap back to dodge it, well and good. Unless you think you can hit someone on the track S-bends down below, let your targets get as close as you dare, that way you are more likely to hit them. Right, everybody else! You might as well gather rocks as well. Timothy, bring all the arrows we've got."

"Is there anything I can do?" Vipsania asked.

"Gather firewood, if you can find any up here," Gaius nodded. "If there's enough, light a fire that can be seen from the west."

"For Vespasian's men?"

"Yes," Gaius said. "It'll be dark in a couple of hours, and we'll get help a lot faster if they can guess where we are."

"Gaius?"

"Yes?"

"What did Quintus mean just then, about the corn, I mean?"

"Quintus wasn't siphoning corn off, but he was involved in siphoning money off for friends of your father."

"What?"

"My guess is, another plot to get rid of Claudius."

A look of horror passed over Vipsania's face, as she said, "Honestly, I didn't know anything. ."

"I believe you totally," Gaius said, and he held her for a moment, then added with a wry smile, "I know I once promised I wouldn't ignore you again, but we're going to have to concentrate on surviving right now. I know there isn't much to burn up here, but see what you can find. That's one thing you can do."

"I'll do what I can," she said doubtfully, as she looked around the rather barren stony terrain.

Gaius walked over to the edge and looked down. The Celts were massing for what seemed to be a frontal attack. That was, perhaps, not surprising. There was always the chance the Romans could escape during the night, so now was the time for an attack. There was one obvious path up the hill, where they could walk while carrying weapons while the slope was steep enough everywhere else that they would need hands for climbing.

The attack began. The Celts began to advance up the track. One of the soldiers looked towards Gaius, but he shook his head. They should wait.

"What's this!" Quintus.

Gaius turned to see Quintus standing before the creature. "I thought your position was by that rock," Gaius growled.

"This thing's got a light turning on and off!"

Gaius stared at the creature and saw that Quintus was correct. There was a strange metal object about the creature's wrist, and on it a blue light was turning on and off. The creature at first had seemed to be at pains to hide this, but now simply stood there, and if Gaius was reading its mannerisms correctly, it was almost frightened.

"Quintus, you're correct to point that out," Gaius nodded. "However, I don't think it can do us any immediate harm, and the Celts can. Back to your post, please."

"It could be getting help!"

"That little light's going to be seen a long way off," one of the men scoffed.

"We don't know what our creature's up to and Quintus might be right," Gaius said in as conciliatory tone as he could, "but we do know what's coming up that hill."

"We should kill it while we can," Quintus growled.

"We protect it," Gaius ordered, and noticed that, as soon as he had said it, the creature visibly relaxed. He suddenly understood that the creature understood Latin quite well, and it had been playing dumb. Still, that was a problem for later. No need to let on that he knew. He turned to the creature and made hand gestures to the effect that it should stay put, and they would defend it. It nodded that it understood. Yes, it did, Gaius thought to himself, but only because it understood the conversation. His hand gestures could have been interpreted in many ways. Gaius walked back to the brow of the hill.

The Celts were three quarters of the way up the track, now in single file as the track had narrowed, and they began to break into a charge. Gaius gave the signal, and the party began to drop boulders onto the Celts. As weapons, these were quite effective. They hurt, but more importantly they dislodged.

There were fearful screams as bodies tumbled over the edge, and gathered pace. There was nothing to hold onto, and over a hundred meters to drop. Celts stopped, to stare up, to see more boulders. Some raised a shield, and occasionally a boulder could be deflected, but often the shear force of the boulder caused the shield bearer to lose balance. The small round Celtic shields were also rather useless, Gaius noted, because the user really had to watch the boulder all the way to the shield. The locked Roman shields, at the correct angle, would nullify this attack.

It was then the Celts began to retreat. Gaius ordered the soldiers to cease, and he watched the Celts retreat further. Then, about three quarters of the way to the bottom, they stopped, and began to cluster. Gaius looked across to Quintus, and saw him struggling to lever a huge rock.

"You two!" Gaius ordered two soldiers. "Help over there."

They took up positions behind the rock and began heaving. Gaius looked over the edge, and saw the huddle still there, right below Quintus. Then, with a final heave and a curse, the rock moved. It was over half way down before anyone below heard anything. One man looked up, and stared in disbelief for a fraction of a second. Then he let out a yell, but it was too late.

There were more fearful screams of pain as the rock crashed into them, then continued its path to the stream below. The Celts now began to flee to the safety of the flat ground below.

"Good work," Gaius nodded to Quintus.

"Now what?" Quintus asked. His tone was aggressive, Gaius noted. His anger was not to be diverted by praise.

"Now what indeed," Gaius said. "It will be dark soon, and we have two choices. We can stay here, or we can try to break out. Anyone wish to comment?"

"With respect, sir," a Centurion began.

"Go on!"

"A break-out in the dark will be very slow once we get to the bottom, because we won't be able to see where we're going. On the other hand, there'll be a moon tonight, and that'll be enough for any Celtic guard to see us clambering down the side of the hill. Then, even if we make it, they'll track us tomorrow, and we'll be exhausted and in the open."

"If they catch us!" Quintus countered. "If we stay here, they'll be up the side tomorrow. There's too many of them, and we'll all be killed."

Some of the soldiers gave a scowl at this last remark, but Gaius put up his hand. "Those two view points are the nub of the problem," he said. "There is no guarantee, either way," he added, "but we have to do something. In my opinion, there are two constraints. We can only defend this hill for so long, and how long depends on how skilful they are. Put yourselves in their shoes. If there were that many of you down there, and this few of them up here, how long would it take you?"

"It's hopeless staying here," Quintus grumbled.

"It is true that if they can work out a way of defending themselves against the rocks," the Centurion nodded, "they must reach the top."

"I tend to favour the break-out," Gaius nodded, "and the only point not in its favour is how long it will take men from the Augusta to find us. If we can defend long enough, we win. If the break-out doesn't work, we. ."

"It won't work!" one of the soldiers called out. "The Celts are on the move. They're going to climb the hill in several places, on various sides of the hill, in open file."

"Interesting," Gaius nodded.

"The rocks will be useless!" Quintus moaned. The Centurion stared at him, and was almost going to strike him, but Gaius held him back.

"Widely spread out open file makes it difficult for us to hit them with rocks," he said slowly, "but it gives us a chance. Everybody, back to your positions. Once the Celts are halfway up the steep hillsides, try to keep them pinned down. Let those on the track get to where they did before, then kill as many as you can. Try to work out how many are left on the track."

"Score keeping?" Quintus said, with a sour, disapproving expression.

"No," Gaius remarked coldly. "We now have a third option. If we can pin enough on the hill-sides, and kill enough on the track, we can break out by charging down the track, fighting our way out, and then we steal their horses."

The soldiers nodded in approval. They knew that taking the initiative away from the enemy usually gave you the best chance, and they also knew their commander had been remarkably successful in the past. Spirits rose with a plan.

"It is important that those climbing on the hill get a little over half-way up and then are pinned down so that once the breakout starts, they become irrelevant," Gaius told each soldier quietly, "but equally we have to kill as many as we can on the track before we move. For the breakout to work, we have to get through the remaining Celts without any appreciable pause."

The soldiers nodded, and went back to their positions. Whether the plan worked or not would not be because of lack of effort on their part.

Gaius stared down the slope. A party was marching up the track, in groups of about five. Each group carried an improvised rock shield above their heads, made of long lengths of wood to which were tied horizontally a number of pickets about a hand's width apart. These were held on a steep angle; any rocks of any size would bounce of the shelter and roll harmlessly down the hill.

"I need help!" Quintus again. Gaius almost exploded with frustration, but when he looked, he suddenly realized what Quintus was trying to do and ordered two other soldiers to help. Quintus was struggling with yet another massive boulder. It was so massive that if it could be timed so that it struck the Celts on the S bend near the top of the track, their makeshift shield would offer no protection. Also, with a little luck, it would roll down the track for a short distance. That chaos would be the correct time to launch the breakout.

Vipsania wandered over to Gaius, and whispered, "I think your creature's sending messages."

"To whom?" Gaius shook his head in disbelief.

"Either that or he likes talking to his sleeve."

"I doubt it matters," Gaius shrugged. "We have more pressing problems than. ."

"He seems very pleased with himself," Vipsania added.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Lucilla added. "Look where it's looking!"

"Up at the moon?" Gaius laughed. "Whatever's there's hardly going to matter."

"The Celts are a third of the way up the track," the Centurion reported, "and the others are about a quarter of the way up the hill."

"There's nothing we can do until they get closer," Gaius said, "but make sure everyone's ready for a rapid charge. Timothy! You will be at the rear of the charge. Your job is to make sure the horses don't panic. Lucilla and Vipsania will help there." He turned towards the Centurion and added, "Make sure everyone's ready, and I want two soldiers to cover the rear."

"Yes sir!"

"Look!" Lucilla stood there, gasping, as she stared up to the sky. In the distance was a silvery object, moving slowly towards them.

"A comet!" one of the soldiers exclaimed. "That's bad luck!"

"Bad luck for the Celts!" the Centurion growled. Some laughed, but most of the soldiers now had their eyes fixed on this object, which was clearly not a comet, and was moving extremely rapidly. It was coming towards them, and the closer it came, the more obvious it was that it was made. There were a number of lights along its side.

Immediately Gaius thought about the weapon he had. He walked towards the horse carrying the sack of his most precious possessions, and slipped the weapon and the two magazines amongst his writings, then placed his metal fittings above those, then he tied the bag tightly. The creature had been staring at the incoming vessel and had not seen him do this.

Over the bank, the Celts stared at this apparition in the air, and immediately many of them began fleeing down the side of the hill as fast as they could. If they retreated to the horses, Gaius noted, that would wreck his planned breakout.

The silvery craft came closer, and the horses suddenly panicked. It was all that Gaius could do to grab his precious sacks as the horse bolted over the bank.

"It's coming here!" Lucilla muttered.

"You were correct," Gaius nodded to Vipsania. "It is going to rescue our creature."

"What do we do?" Vipsania frowned. "Do we let it go?"

"Yes, we do," Gaius shrugged. Slowly and carefully mouthing his words, he said, "It would be wrong to try to keep him. Much as I hate to admit it, he's won."

"We could try to bargain," Vipsania frowned. "I mean if that thing would fly over the Celts, they might flee, and that would let us get away."

"Feel free to try," Gaius shrugged. "Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to speak Latin," he added, knowing this to be at least partly untrue.

The creature, recognizing he was being discussed, and recognizing that he was to be let go, suddenly became more assured. It approached Gaius, and held out its hand, indicating it wanted something.

Gaius looked puzzled, then started to examine the creature's hands. If it wanted something, it should admit it knew Latin, and use it.

Instead the creature made hand gestures as if it were shooting something with the weapon Gaius had taken.

Gaius thought momentarily about playing dumb, but then decided that would be pointless so he nodded as if in defeat, and he reached in under his cloak. Then he paused, frowned, and pulled back the cloak and began feeling. He then began looking everywhere, but, as he knew would be the case, it was not there. He turned and looked sheepishly at the creature and made a gesture that it must have fallen and got lost. The creature seemed furious, but it eventually accepted that it had been lost. Vipsania gave Gaius that look which seemed to be saying, "Just what are you up to?"

The large silvery object, a sort of elongated disc, came to rest in an open space on the top of the hill. The soldiers had backed away. A door opened on the side, a small ladder came down, and the creature tried to go towards the craft. One of the soldiers stepped forward to stop it, but Gaius shook his head. "Let it go," he said.

"That's stupid!" Quintus said. "That demon could be worth. ." He paused when he saw the look of barely controlled anger on Gaius' face.

"Get back to your post!" Gaius roared angrily, then he turned to the other soldiers. "All of you!" He turned back to Quintus, and spat, "Just for once in your miserable life, forget your wretched money!"

Quintus backed away, half wanting to protest, but not knowing what to say. Gaius turned to the creature and waved it towards the craft.

"Celts!" one of the soldiers roared. The soldiers had been staring at the silvery craft, assuming it would terrify the Celts, but they had overlooked the fact that those on the track were totally unaware of the craft's existence. All they could see was that the Romans, for some reason, were not dropping rocks, and hence they had ran as fast as they could up-hill, to cover as much of the track as they could before they were spotted. They had now almost reached the top of the hill.

Gaius ordered the soldiers into a small wedge formation, then he and Timothy grabbed their bows. He managed to get off two arrows before the soldiers and Celts met. The fighting was furious from the Celts, efficient from the Romans, but Gaius quickly realized that they had missed their opportunity. To defeat these Celts, they had had to have killed far many more of them on the track.

Wretched creature! So much for saving the wretched thing's life. Then, despite the crisis, he could not resist turning to see the strange metallic object that had dropped from the skies. There, on the ladder was creature, gesturing as if offering Gaius the chance to board the craft.

The prophecy! First, Athene had said, "You have three possible futures. In a few years you will find yourself on a high hill, besieged by enemies. By yourself, you and your loved ones will die, miserably and in extreme pain. There will be a way out, if you are not too afraid. ."

Here he was, on a high hill, besieged by enemies, and a miserable death in extreme pain was definitely likely. But there will be a way out, if. . Then there was the later part, ". there will come a time when you will die if you go north, if you go south, if you go east or if you go west. You will recognize it when it comes, and you will know what to do." At the time that had seemed ridiculous. It implied that all directions led to death, except possibly to escape down a mine. But now there might be an alternative: upwards! Let the Celts eat that! But first, he had to be sure. Gaius pointed to himself, then at the craft, and the creature nodded its head, as if in the affirmative.

Gaius stared at the craft. Once on board, they would be at the creature's mercy, but if they stayed where they were, the men would be killed or tortured, or both, and his wife and sister would probably be raped to death. That was not going to happen. There was no option.

"Vipsania," Gaius said.

"We're going to lose, aren't we?" Vipsania asked softly, in a matter of fact tone. "Gaius, would you please kill me! I do not wish to be mob raped by. ."

"We're going to lose if we stay here," Gaius confirmed, "but there's a way out."

Vipsania looked doubtfully at him, and asked, "How?"

"The creature! Look!"

Vipsania looked towards the silvery craft. The creature was still waving.

"Are you game?" Gaius asked softly.

Vipsania continued to stare doubtfully at it. "In that? Where will it take us?"

"Off this hill," Gaius shrugged. "After that, I don't know, but I'd rather take my chances there than have to kill you here."

"If you say so," Vipsania replied very doubtfully.

Gaius gave her a hug of encouragement, and said softly, "You'll have to be very brave, but remember, it won't get any worse than it is now." He looked over towards the track and could see the five remaining soldiers on this part of the hill were in danger of being encircled. Even as he noted that, another fell. "Fall back!" he ordered. He looked over to Quintus, who was standing stupidly, wondering what to do next. "Over to that craft!" Gaius yelled. He had decided.

"You're not thinking about. .?"

"Move!" Gaius yelled. He looked across. The men began falling back, but the Celts advanced. Suddenly there was a flash from the craft, and a small line of Celts fell to the ground, dead and clearly badly burned. The remaining Celts saw this, and for the first time really saw the ship. They stopped, then dived behind rocks. A Roman fell, badly wounded, and the three others stared at Gaius.

The alien continued encouraging the Romans to board.

"We board," Gaius said simply. "If we don't, the Celts will still be there. Timothy, keep close to Vipsania and Lucilla. Quintus. ."

"I'm not going on that. . that. ."

"It's the only way out!"

"We'll be prisoners of demons! I'm not. ."

"I must stay with Quintus," Lucilla said simply. "It is my duty and. ."

Gaius stared at her, and shook his head. Up to a point she was correct, but he was not going to leave his sister. "You two!" Gaius ordered two soldiers, "Take Quintus and get him up those steps, kicking, screaming, whatever, but get him."

The soldiers stared at this strange craft, but orders were orders. Timothy led the way up the stairs, Lucilla and Vipsania followed, then Gaius followed, clutching his two sacks of personal treasures. Then came the three remaining soldiers, and Quintus, who was now yelling and screaming.

The door closed and they were given seats. Nothing happened for a brief period, then a voice was heard from the ship itself, "You are about to be taken away from this hill but first you will be secured to your seats, and these will move into a machine. Do not be frightened. No harm will come to you, and what is going to happen is for your own benefit. If it does not happen to you, you will be squashed."

"What. ?" Just as a soldier said that, bands encircled them, and held them in the seats. Then Gaius found his seat transformed to a bed, which began to move towards the back of the cylinder, where it slid into another cylinder. He dropped his sacks before he reached the cylinder. The end was closed, but while he felt frightened, he was not going to say anything. A warmish feeling struck his feet, and very slowly began moving up his body. He guessed that this had something to do with the aliens searching him for the hidden weapon, and he smiled to himself that he had taken the precaution to secrete it in his sack. Then, finally, after the warm feeling had passed over the top of his head, the end of the cylinder opened, his bed was wheeled out and as he was returned to where it had started, he grabbed his precious sacks and brought them close to his feet. When the movement stopped, the "bed" returned to being a chair, whereupon Timothy's chair began the same routine.

"What happened?" Vipsania asked.

"I don't know," Gaius said, "but the voice was correct in one respect. It did not hurt, and as far as I can tell, no damage has been done."

"No damage was done," the strange voice said, "and when any other's turn comes, if he or she has any wounds, they will be repaired."

Before long, Timothy reappeared, and Vipsania's chair began to move. The process was slow, but before long, all chairs were returned to their initial positions.

"You are now ready to fly," the voice said. "I shall let you see what happens." As soon as the voice finished, the wall in front of them appeared to disappear so they could see out. In front of the ship there was a row of dead Celts. Then there was a shudder, and the ship lifted.

"No!" Quintus yelled.

"Keep that idiot quiet!" Gaius said angrily.

The soldiers stared at the wall as the ground began to recede. Two of them seemed terrified, but one of them, Gaius noted, seemed to be enjoying himself. Then they were in a cloud. Discipline held, and a soldier made a gesture of smashing Quintus' face. Quintus took the hint, and sat back.

"I'm sorry," Gaius said softly to Lucilla, "but we have to keep discipline."

"Do you know what's going to happen?" Lucilla asked. She clutched the side of her seat, her knuckles white.

"Don't ask me how I know this," Gaius replied softly, "but you and I will see Rome again. But not straight away."

A strange feeling crossed over Gaius. That prophecy! He would walk amongst the Gods. They were going up! He would return to Rome in ruins. Whoever could fly could defeat Rome. That must be the meaning of the prophecy. But he was to earn his agnomen. His task was clear. He had to stay with these demons, learn from them, then somehow defeat them.

The outside became dark, yet the flight seemed to go on and on. Then suddenly there was a huge silver object beside them that totally filled their view, and their craft then seemed to be drawn inside it.

"I don't like this," Vipsania shuddered.

"Neither do I," Gaius replied. One thing was clear. This was no simple rescue, because otherwise they could have been put down somewhere else. Gaius could see that both Lucilla and Vipsania had reached this conclusion as well.

"We should never have got on board," Quintus muttered.

"You might be right," Gaius shrugged coldly, "but if we had stayed there we would be dead by now, and you know what would have happened to your wife. We don't know what's happening, but we are still alive. Now, above all other times, we must behave like Romans. We must not lose control, and we must be ready to do what we have to do, on orders only."

"You don't order me around. ." Quintus started.

"Right now I do," Gaius said firmly. He paused and then said more softly, "Quintus, the only way we can survive is if we act together, in a disciplined way. If you want to suggest something, I'll listen. What I'm saying is that nobody must start something on their own.

"You men," he continued to the soldiers, "I'll admit I don't know what's going to happen, but the only way we are going to survive is to behave with dignity. Unless any of you know how to fly, these creatures have to take us home. We have to persuade them to do so, and we're hardly likely to do that by making nuisances of ourselves."

The soldiers nodded.

It was then that the door opened, their creature stood up and walked out. There seemed to be a silence, then began what appeared to be a very heated debate in another language, with another quite strange and different voice. The debate got stronger, then it stopped, and shortly after, there appeared at the door another. . what? It had two arms, two legs, was made of metal and glass, and had a sort of mouth, and eyes. Its torso was a cylinder, with odd-looking fastenings holding bits together.

"Follow me!" it said. It spoke Latin, in a rather strange metallic tone.

"Do so," Gaius ordered. "Same order as entering. Quintus, please behave with dignity. You men surround him. If he behaves, treat him as of senatorial class. If he. ."

"Gaius," Quintus said firmly and arrogantly. "There will be no need for that. Personally, I was completely opposed to getting on this flying ship, but since we are here I agree with your proposal. We must work together to persuade these people to return us."

The party slowly made its way though the doorway into a large corridor. They marched along, following what Gaius called the Tin Man. They stopped in front of a wall that slid open to reveal a small room.

"Four in, the rest wait here and I shall come back and get you," the Tin Man said.

"You men wait," Gaius ordered. "Timothy, Vipsania, Lucilla, let's go."

They entered, and the door closed. Then the whole floor moved.

"What's happening!" Lucilla said, a touch of fear in her voice.

"We're just being taken somewhere else," Gaius said calmly. He hardly felt calm, but he had to give the impression that he was not overawed.

"Correct," the Tin Man said calmly. "Don't be afraid. You will not be hurt." He stopped, and then said to Gaius, "You find something fascinating?"

"I am curious to know how those pieces of metal are joined so finely together."

The Tin Man stood motionless for a moment, then said, "We are there." The door opened.

"You are not going to tell me?" Gaius asked, "or don't you know?"

"I may show you later on," the Tin Man said. "Follow!" They walked along a corridor, and to the right there were cages, with animals. Animals that Gaius had never considered possible. Then through a door to more cages. There were two lions, two zebras…

Then an empty cage, with straw on the floor.

"I am sorry that I do not believe this is appropriate," the Tin Man said, "but it is the only place I can put you where you cannot do harm."

"Gaius," Vipsania said with fear in her voice. "If we go in there, we can't get out again. ."

"We'll get out," Gaius said. "Please do as he says."

"You are cooperative," the Tin Man said as he closed the door behind them and locked it. "That is good. Tell me, why do you cooperate when you know you are prisoners."

"Because I can't do anything to remedy the situation," Gaius replied simply, "and there's no point in my doing something when I cannot gain."

"Logical," the Tin Man replied.

"What will happen to us?" Lucilla asked.

"I will let you know later," the Tin Man replied. "I must get the other four."

"What's going on?" Lucilla asked when the Tin Man was out of sight.

"You want my guess," Vipsania said softly. When nobody replied, she said, "We're being collected."

"Collected?" Timothy frowned.

"Didn't you notice all those animals? Two of everything. And some of them are weird and frightening. I think we're going to end up in some sort of games."

"Oh God!" Lucilla shuddered.

"The last bit doesn't follow," Gaius said in as comforting a tone as he could manage, and placed his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry for getting you into this mess," he said. "I think Quintus might have been right, at least to the extent that these creatures are not here to help us."

"We would have all been killed down there," Lucilla reassured him.

"Anyway, all's not lost," Gaius tried to reassure them all. "I'll get you out of this."

"Any idea how?" Vipsania smiled.

"Not the slightest," Gaius admitted.

"That's my Gaius," she said, and hugged him.

It was shortly after this that the others marched past. Quintus gave Lucilla his best effort at a reassuring smile, she waved a kiss. Then he was out of sight. They heard a door close, then silence.

The Tin Man reappeared, with four cups, some apples, and a jar of water. They ate in silence. Gaius felt a trace of vibration through the floor. They were being taken somewhere, but where?

After they finished eating, they stared at their surroundings. Gaius confirmed that the door was closed. He tried to look out, but the lights were dimmed. He checked his sack, untied it, and could feel his metal fittings, his scrolls, and most of all, his alien weapon. It was there. What could he do with it?

They tried talking about anything but their present predicament. Somehow the social life of Rome held little appeal. They began staring vacantly at their surroundings. Gaius gave Vipsania another hug, and suggested they all get what sleep they could.

They lay down, and tried to sleep. It was difficult, but eventually they drifted off. What they were unaware of was that a vapour had been introduced into their air supply, and it would be quite some time before they woke.

Chapter 33

Princeps

It is with regret that I must advise you that Gaius Claudius Scaevola, Legatus Legionis, Legio XX Valeria, must be presumed dead. Scaevola and a small party of soldiers were travelling south to coordinate the westward thrust with Vespasianus and the Augusta. One exploratore from the party has survived, and his account is as follows.

The party marched south and ran into a small squad of Celts who were attacking a squad of Roman soldiers, together with what the soldier called a demon. Scaevola's squad quickly disposed of the enemy, but the soldier informed him that other Celts had attacked and captured a small group of Roman citizens, one of which I understand was his wife. Scaevola sent this exploratore off to get help from the Augusta, and apparently set off to rescue his wife.

It is unclear what happened next. It is presumed that the rescue was successful, because a number of dead Celts were subsequently found. The party then appeared to flee from about four hundred Celts and formed a defensive position on a high hill. The Celts attacked, and while our soldiers fought valiantly, as judged by the dead Celts left behind, it is unclear what happened to the party of Romans. A cohort from the Augusta was sent and it encircled the Celts and disposed of them. However, no trace of the Romans could be found, apart from dead soldiers left at the top of the hill. It also appears that Scaevola had bags of objects that were to be sent to Rome. Nothing even close to the descriptions given to me by the Tribunes of the Valeria were found, either at the hill, or anywhere that could be described as a reasonable path along which they could have travelled. I presume they must have buried these objects to prevent the Celts from accessing them.

While we cannot find their bodies, there has been no sign of them for six weeks, and accordingly I assume they are dead. Apparently Titus' men interrogated some Celts before disposing of them, but all they got was nonsense. The most sane response was that they were taken by the Gods, from which I suspect means they died. On the hill there were a number of dead Celts with terrible burns. I understand that Scaevola was trying to build some weapon based on fire and steam, and since such a weapon is the only explanation for these burned bodies, I presume he got it going, he succeeded to a point, then the device exploded and turned the Roman party into air. No remains of this device were found.

I have assumed temporary control of the Valeria, which shall proceed towards Aquae Sulis.

Aulus Plautius,

General.

Content

Ian Miller
Legatus Legionis

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33