Sword of Rome(128)
Otho was elated. ‘You see, Suetonius,’ he said fiercely. ‘You will have your Britannia heroes with you after all.’ Even Paulinus’s thin lips twitched in a smile. The Fourteenth had been the core of his army in the final battle to defeat Boudicca and he had a huge affection for the legion. ‘The order of march will be this,’ the Emperor continued. He addressed Aquila first. ‘Thirteenth and elements of the Fourteenth in the van will form the right of the line when battle is joined. Orfidius? Your Adiutrix will follow and hold the left, and your gladiator villains with them, Valerius. The ground is more open there, so you will also have the bulk of the cavalry. The Praetorian Guard will follow and take the fight to the enemy in the centre.’ He smiled. ‘We have seen that they don’t have the legs of a veteran legion, but they are eager enough. Are there any questions?’
Hearing the plan for the first time, Aquila studied the sand table with the deep frown of a worried man. ‘We will be advancing on a narrow front. I take it that our action, if we meet an enemy force of similar strength, will be to assume defensive positions and draw them on to us?’
‘No.’ The Thirteenth’s legate flinched at the force in Otho’s voice. ‘If we meet the enemy we will take the initiative and attack. This will be a decisive battle. The traitors must be given no opportunity to run away.’
Valerius exchanged a glance with Paulinus. The general’s face was grim, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
Aquila had another question. ‘Will the Thirteenth have the honour of your presence on the right?’
Otho’s face froze and the atmosphere in the room changed as if a cloud had just covered the sun. It was Celsus who answered. ‘Tradition dictates that the Emperor has no place on the field of battle.’
‘But …’
‘No Emperor since Augustus has fought on the front line,’ the adviser continued. ‘It has already been decided. The life of Marcus Salvius Otho Augustus is too valuable to be risked on the battlefield. He will take up a position in Brixellum with our strategic reserve and await your call, or the outcome, of which he is not in doubt.’ More than one pair of eyes widened at the words ‘strategic reserve’. If they met the enemy in any strength, the fighting power of every auxiliary and legionary in Otho’s army would be needed. Brixellum was twenty miles and more from the potential site of the battle. It would take Otho’s ‘strategic reserve’ a day’s hard marching even to reach it. Celsus sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. ‘Vitellius the usurper is not with his army, so …’
Otho laid a hand on his arm and his eyes sought out each man in the room in turn. ‘Please do not question my courage …’ Valerius joined the chorus of denial. ‘I am more than willing to lay down my life for this cause. But I am an old-fashioned man who believes it is the job of his generals to fight battles. And now, if there is nothing else, I must rest.’
The five officers saluted and as the Emperor talked quietly with Celsus the others left the tent to brief their junior commanders. Aquila and Benignus whispered together and Suetonius Paulinus hung back deliberately to walk beside Valerius through the long lines of eight-man legionary tents towards the gates. They were not friends. Paulinus might have created him Hero of Rome, but Valerius had good reason to believe the consul would have been happy to see him dead two years earlier when Nero’s torturers were ‘cleaning up’ after the Piso conspiracy. Now, however, it seemed he was seen as a potential ally.
‘Have you ever heard such rubbish?’ Paulinus squinted into the afternoon sun. ‘Titianus in overall command? The man has never fought a skirmish, never mind a battle. Our Emperor is an old-fashioned man who leaves his generals to fight battles? Yet the first thing he does is tie one hand behind their backs.’ He stopped suddenly and the grey eyes pierced Valerius like a pair of javelins. ‘Mark my words, young man, we will be in the fight of our lives.’ The gravelly voice softened and his gaze dropped to the stump of Valerius’s right arm. ‘I am glad you will be with Adiutrix. They are a young legion, none younger, and they need to be directed by experienced hands. Benignus is a good man, but I have no doubt he will appreciate a steadying influence.’ He turned to retrace his steps to his own tent, then hesitated. ‘I do not doubt his valour, but he is wrong, you know. I was with the Eighth during the invasion of Britannia and I saw Divine Claudius charge a barbarian line on a ceremonial elephant. He was worth two legions to us that day.’