‘If he’s a fool,’ Spurinna commented, ‘he’ll keep them sweating in their ranks while he comes and makes his obligatory offer of terms. If he’s not, he’ll have them make camp while we discuss the pointless niceties. Ah, good. Always better to fight a man who knows what he’s doing.’ As the soldiers dispersed, an individual officer rode out from the group of horsemen. When he was close enough they saw he carried a green branch. ‘Valerius? Young Mettelus? Anyone feel like surrendering? Well then, let’s not keep them waiting.’ They unbuckled their swords and strode out to meet the emissary.
‘My legate wishes to discuss the possibility of a peaceful solution,’ the young man said when they were within hearing distance.
‘Well, get him here, you fool,’ the general snapped. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
The aide raised his branch and waved it above his head. Immediately, four riders broke away from the group and rode towards Placentia. As they approached, Spurinna let out a choking grunt. ‘Mars’ arse, the man’s dressed like a Celtic farmer and … is that a bloody woman with him?’
Caecina’s emissary shot the general a startled glance. ‘I believe it’s his wife, sir,’ Mettelus offered. ‘They say she travels everywhere with him.’
Spurinna studied the slight figure in the centre with undisguised admiration. ‘Yes, well, you would keep her close, I’ll say that. But it’s not proper. Not proper at all.’
He turned his attention to the curious figure in the Celtic breeches and tunic. A less confident man would have stayed in the saddle and looked down on his enemies. Instead, Aulus Caecina Alienus vaulted effortlessly to the ground and threw his mount’s reins to an aide. A broad smile creased his handsome, fine-boned face as if this were a surprise encounter with old friends, but Valerius noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach the over-bright eyes. His hair was dark as a raven’s wing and worn long in the fashion of his barbarian auxiliaries. A fine torc of twisted gold strands graced his neck, and others encircled his wrists. The only thing that distinguished him as a Roman soldier was the sculpted breastplate he wore and the scarlet sash at his waist that identified him as a legionary legate. A barnyard cockerel, strutting and proud, Valerius thought, but, it seemed, not a cockerel looking for a fight.
‘Aulus Caecina Alienus.’ He bowed. ‘Legate of the Fourth Macedonica and commander of the armies of the North. My Emperor regrets this unfortunate misunderstanding. He desires only peace and prosperity throughout this land.’ The voice was soft and persuasive; charming, but, despite all the owner’s efforts, lacking in sincerity. ‘He believes you have been misled by your superiors and he would welcome you into his protection. All you must do is march your men from the gates within the hour. You have my promise that they will not be molested and they may retain their weapons, their standards and their honour.’ He shrugged as though the rest was not his concern. ‘After that, they may join us or go home, as they please.’
Spurinna nodded thoughtfully, as if he were considering the offer. ‘And the people of Placentia?’
Caecina waved a careless hand towards the city walls, but Valerius knew he would be taking in every helmet, spear and artillery position. ‘They are my Emperor’s subjects,’ Vitellius’s general said smoothly. ‘They will be unharmed as long as they are prepared to take the oath to him.’
‘And if not?’
Caecina shrugged. They both knew what would happen if the city fell after a prolonged siege.
The old general drew himself up to his full height and his voice took on a new power, reaching out to the soldiers working on the closest encampment. ‘Marcus Salvius Otho Augustus was proclaimed Emperor in Rome by the Senate and people of Rome. He is the only true Emperor: Imperator, Princeps and Pontifex Maximus.’ Spurinna reeled off the titles one by one. ‘He regrets that the officers and soldiers of his northern armies have been deceived and believes the governor of Germania Inferior has acted rashly. Still, he is prepared to take him as a friend if he will only kneel and take the oath of loyalty. Even now, Aulus Vitellius is considering an offer of gifts and further preferment that would raise him among the highest in the land. In addition, the soldiers of the Rhenus legions will receive a payment equal to half a year’s wages a man in recognition of their previous petitions if they return to their posts today.’
Valerius saw Caecina dart a nervous glance towards his lines. This was not how Emperors dealt with their rivals, or the troops who followed them. The suggestion that Vitellius might be tempted by Otho’s bribes had unsettled him. Spurinna noticed his unease and took his chance to exploit the opening. ‘They know your friend and ally Valens has deserted you. What is the excuse? Sickness? Lack of supplies? We hear mutiny being spoken of. You cannot win alone. Take your soldiers home and you too could be elevated among the highest in the land. You know the true Emperor is marching north. If you do not reduce Placentia in days, you will be caught between the hammer of the Emperor’s legions and the anvil of my walls. He will be on your neck like a ravening wolf. And Placentia will … not … be … reduced.’ The old general’s nostrils flared as he remembered past triumphs and he glared defiance at his enemy. ‘Men with strong hearts and strong arms will stand behind those walls and oppose you until the Mare Nostrum freezes over. Placentia will be the graveyard of your army and your hopes, Aulus Caecina Alienus.’