Under The Eagle

At last they marched over the brow of a hill and Cato let out a gasp of astonishment. Below them was a vast military camp stretching, it seemed, for miles, lit by thousands of camp fires and braziers. Four full legions were concentrated in the area, together with an equal number of specialist auxiliary cohorts, engineers, shipbuilders and staff pla

Before the Sixth century came within speaking range of any of the other legionaries they were intercepted by a staff officer on horseback, escorted by several centurions, who commanded them to halt. Once the identity of the imperial secretary had been confirmed, the officer issued immediate orders for the removal of the prisoners to a secure place, while he escorted the imperial secretary to army headquarters. And that was the last Cato and Macro saw of Narcissus. They received no thanks for their success in preserving his mission and no acknowledgement of the lives that had been lost in his cause.

The camp prefect of the Ninth arrived to arrange for the movement of the wounded to the Ninth Legion's hospital. Then he led the remnants of the century out of the camp to a cleared area some miles distant where the lines for the Second Legion had already been laid out.

The Sixth century set up its tents as quickly as possible and, once the pickets had been positioned, the men fell into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Two days later the Second Legion marched into the site and the vast area was overrun by thousands of soldiers struggling to erect tents. In strict accordance with military protocol, the legate's camp was put up first, followed by the senior officers' and only then was the common soldiery allowed to begin work on their own, far more basic, quarters.

Vespasian sat in his command tent at a small table, screened off from the household slaves as headquarters staff scurried to and fro, laying down wooden flooring and unpacking furniture and other items. Above it all, he could hear Flavia issuing orders and driving them on to greater speed. He knew she was glad the tiresome journey was over and that the hardships of life on the march could be pushed to the back of her mind for a few weeks at least, though soon she would have to undertake the even longer journey south to Rome.

Vespasian was much less content – even though the missing scroll had been returned to him by Flavia a few days earlier. She had found it amongst the toys in Titus's travel chest and saw that it was addressed to her husband. The boy told her he had found it on the floor, so she said, and was incapable of being any more specific, given his age. Vespasian had hugged his wife and immediately locked the document away in the darkest recess of the safe-box. It seemed that whoever had stolen the scroll must have dropped it while fleeing from the command tent. Vespasian was appalled by the breach of security that could have occurred. What if someone else had discovered the scroll before Titus? Jupiter! It didn't bear thinking about. But Vespasian's joy at the recovery of the scroll was now tempered by the forbidding situation that existed beyond the confines of his command tent.

A day's march from Gesoriacum they had been met by a messenger from Plautius with new orders. In the army commander's opinion – and here Vespasian detected the hand of Narcissus – it would not be wise to use the Second Legion to put down the mutiny. It would be more efficacious for the mutiny to be settled by negotiation rather than direct action. For the army to go into a major campaign with the memory of bloody repression fresh in their minds would be foolhardy. A delay in crossing the thin strip of sea between Gaul and Britain would have to be tolerated as the price to be paid for quelling the mutiny.

Worse news, as far as Vespasian was concerned, followed: the Second Legion would not be included in the first wave of the invasion. Two other legions had been training for amphibious operations for several months and to them would fall the honour of fighting their way ashore and establishing a beachhead for the rest of the army. Vespasian knew that if the Britons decided to meet the invaders on the beaches then all the glory and political capital would go to the commanders and officers of the spearhead units. He gloomily foresaw a long period of mopping-up operations stretching ahead of him; a nasty process of attrition that would win no garlands and be a mere footnote to the epic tales of victory that would be told on the streets of Rome.

If the mutiny could be put down, he reflected.

As he had made his way through the main camp to report to Plautius, it had been heart-breaking for the legate to see the collapse of discipline in the other legions. Few of the soldiers he rode past bothered to salute and, although no-one had actually said anything to him, the look of defiance in their eyes – daring him to try and exercise his authority – enraged Vespasian. Only the army commander's personal bodyguard and the officers remained in full uniform, carrying out their normal duties as far as they were able to.

Vespasian was shown into the wooden headquarters building dominating the centre of the huge army camp, where Narcissus was seated at a great map table with General Plautius. Vespasian had known Plautius socially before he had joined the army and he was shocked to see the weary, beaten expression on the general's face.

'Good to see you again,' said Plautius with a smile. 'It's been a long time. I just wish it was under happier circumstances. Have you met Narcissus?'

'No, sir, though his reputation precedes him.'

'A good reputation, I trust?' Narcissus asked.

Vespasian nodded, not willing to perjure his true opinion.

'I must thank you for your unit's protection, legate.'

'I'll pass word of your gratitude on to the men concerned, if you haven't already thanked them.'

'You are most kind.'

'Now, your report please, Vespasian.' Plautius waved him to a seat. 'How is your legion?'

'They are still responding to orders, if that's what you mean, sir.'

'For the moment maybe. In a few days they'll be just like the others.'

'Have you found the ringleaders of the mutiny yet?' Vespasian asked.

'Thanks to Narcissus we have the names. Tribune Aurelius, two centurions and twenty or so legionaries. All were transferred to the Ninth from the Dalmatian legions, complete with their previous loyalties, as you'd expect.'

'Have they made any demands?'

'Only that the invasion be abandoned. They've managed to persuade the others that demons and certain death are the only things waiting for them on the other side of the ocean.'

'Not that it's much of an ocean,' Narcissus added. 'But the word has a certain depressing effect on the imagination of military types. Present company excepted, of course.' He smiled. 'I'm afraid we are dealing with some quite well-thought-through treason, gentlemen. More sophisticated than anything that Tribune Aurelius and his little band of mutineers could come up with. You see, Vespasian, the general and I have already decided to eliminate this group. But first we must try and discover the identity of their masters back in Rome. Aurelius and his men were only exposed when my agents intercepted a message en route to his masters in Rome. Unfortunately, the courier expired before he could be induced to divulge the name of the intended recipient. Such is life – or not, in his case. Then there is the little matter of the ambush on the road from Durocortorum. Evidently the opposition got wind of my travel arrangements and the purpose of my journey. It appears that someone on "our side" is not quite what they seem.'