Sword of Rome(106)
As they prepared to leave Domitia embraced her tearful slave girl, assuring her that she would send for her. A sleek, lean-limbed roan was brought to the mounting block and she settled on the side saddle with all the grace of a Roman maiden taking her place at the dinner table. Valerius led the roan to the centre of the column and placed it beside Serpentius. Domitia greeted the Spaniard with a warm smile that made him blush. There was little formality between the two. Serpentius had also been stranded with them after the shipwreck and people who have spent a week together surviving on tepid water and roasting like fish on a griddle in the Egyptian heat can have few secrets.
Valerius grinned at the Spaniard’s discomfiture. ‘As you know, he is less dangerous than he looks, at least as far as his friends are concerned. You will be safe with him.’
‘It is a relief to be travelling with such a capable guardian. I hope I see you well, Serpentius?’
Serpentius produced a scowl that was meant to be a reassuring smile. ‘At your service, my lady, as always.’
They rode, not down the slope towards the town, but due east through the hills until they came to flatter ground. There they turned north and eventually joined the Via Aurelia, where it hugged the south bank of the Padus. Valerius had debated long and hard whether to risk using the open road, but with Claudius Victor undoubtedly closer than ever speed was more important now than guile. Placentia drew him like a moth to a flame. They would be safer there, although he knew it might only be exchanging one trap for another. But if the road south was clear … if Otho’s army had marched north … if the Balkan legions were close by … so many ifs.
‘Will there be war?’
He had been so preoccupied he hadn’t heard Domitia rein in beside him and her voice came as a surprise. Metto, who had ridden at his side, dropped back to allow them privacy.
‘Yes. It cannot be stopped now, though neither Otho nor Vitellius wants it.’
‘Then why must it be? Surely if both of them will it so it can be prevented. There has already been too much destruction and death.’
Valerius knew she was remembering the little farmstead they had passed, one of many ravaged by Valens’ auxiliary cavalry; bodies barely recognizable as human tossed carelessly on the funeral pyre of their former home.
He tried to explain. ‘It can only be resolved if one or other gives up his title to the purple. Vitellius is being dragged like a charioteer behind a runaway team by the ambition of his officers and the enthusiasm of his soldiers. They have been promised rewards and plunder and advancement. They have tasted blood. There is no turning back. Vitellius could not rein them in now even if he wanted to. If he tried …? Poison in his wine or a dagger in the night and Valens or Caecina would step into his place.’
By now it was past midday. He twisted in the saddle to check the positions of the troop, and instead found himself looking into her eyes. She seemed incredibly young. The narrow face strained and serious, with half-moons of weariness just visible beneath the dark eyes, and the lovely chestnut tresses covered by the hood of her linen stola. Melancholy gave her a different kind of beauty, the way a ripe cornfield is still beautiful when the sun goes behind a cloud, or a breeze ripples the surface of a glassy pond. His breath caught in his throat, but somehow he managed to stumble on. ‘Otho, for all you hear otherwise, is a man of honour. He has Galba’s blood on his hands, but he can rationalize it. He tells himself that Galba betrayed the people of Rome, though the reality is that the only reason he acted was because Galba betrayed Otho. Now he has been confirmed Emperor of Rome, in Rome, by the Senate and people of Rome; he is Emperor by right and by rank.’ He shrugged. ‘To walk away at the first challenge to his authority would be cowardice and Otho is no coward. I believe the thought of having Romans die on his behalf appals him and that Otho the man might well go into exile to save lives. But it is not Otho the man who sits in the Domus Aurea but Otho Imperator, and his honour and his responsibility to the office of Emperor will not allow it. So he too is trapped, as Nero was, in his gilded cage.’
‘So now they will fight.’ Domitia frowned as she recognized the truth in his words. ‘How will it happen?’
Valerius had been asking himself that question for days and always coming up with the same answer. ‘Vitellius has taken a risk by splitting his army. If Otho had been able to bring enough of his legions together to meet either individually the war would be over. Valens and Caecina must combine or be destroyed in sequence. The fact that Otho has not attacked tells me he does not yet have his full strength. That means his Balkan legions, from Moesia and Pannonia, are still on the march. Yet he must do something.’ His war-sharpened eyes roved across the tree-lined hills to their right, which had forced the road close to the river. In an enemy commander’s place, Valerius would have launched his cavalry from those hills and smashed the little column. With no place to run, the outcome would have been certain. He watched a little longer, but could see nothing. ‘I believe he will bring what troops he has to the Padus, where he can harass Valens or Caecina as he chooses, possibly stop them from joining forces, and block their march south. When his Balkan reinforcements arrive from Aquileia, along this very road, he will be in a position to combine with them somewhere close, possibly a little further east. Once he has done that, he will meet the enemy on a field of his own choosing with a stronger force. Then it will not matter if Valens and Caecina have united. He will destroy them.’