Sword of Rome(84)

In the long silence that followed, the German Emperor played with a great jewelled ring on the middle finger of his right hand while he contemplated Valerius with baleful grey eyes that contained no hint of his thoughts. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head.

‘You have caused me a deal of trouble, Gaius Valerius Verrens.’

‘Only because I wished to save you from more, and worse.’

Vitellius nodded slowly, the great jowls wobbling in rhythm with his movements. ‘I apologize for my harsh words of yesterday. It says much for our friendship that you and your Spanish wolf were prepared to come here, even if your mission was a misdirected one.’ Valerius started to protest, but the other man raised a hand. ‘Hear me out, before you say what you must. Last night I mentioned that other lives were at stake, and that is true. I have set events in motion … no, let us be entirely truthful … the gods have set events in motion, of which they have placed me at the heart, and over which I have no power and little control. You were right to bring me word of what has taken place in my name. It is an unworthy Emperor who begins his reign with massacre and rapine, and I will do what I can to make amends for what has happened and to ensure such things do not occur again.’ Vitellius paused and Valerius saw what might have been a hint of regret in the deep-set eyes. He remembered a time in Africa when this man had wept over the bodies of starving children and wondered how it had come to this. Vitellius nodded as if he too was remembering those times, but both men knew there was no going back now.

‘Marcus Salvius Otho’s terms are generous, and you may thank him for me. I have a message for him in return, but first I must explain to an old friend why I cannot accept them. Yesterday we spoke of honesty and loyalty. Most men look at Aulus Vitellius and see a fat man whose only ambition is to get fatter. When they look at Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Imperator, Emperor of Rome, they will see a fat man whose only ambition is to get rich. But you know better, Valerius. When I said our ambitions for Rome were the same, I spoke the truth. A strong Rome, a prosperous Rome, a Rome untainted by the stain of corruption.’ A shadow crossed his eyes and Valerius knew he was thinking of his two lieutenants, but it quickly passed. ‘I hope and pray that you see your own honour and loyalty mirrored in the fat man who stands before you.’ His lips twitched in a sad half-smile. ‘You see, I become poetic in my emotion. Seneca would never have approved. Still,’ he levered his enormous frame to its feet, ‘I will stand. I owe my loyalty to the men who hailed me Imperator on the field outside Moguntiacum. The men who now march on Rome in my name. In all honour, I could never desert them. There was never any possibility that I would turn back, even if I could. I hope you see that now.’

Valerius nodded, unable to speak for the duck egg that seemed to have lodged in his throat. Vitellius waddled to a cabinet set by the wall and stooped awkwardly to open it, and Valerius’s heart sank at the sight of the polished rosewood box. Vitellius smiled when he saw his guest’s reaction. ‘Yes, Divine Caesar’s sword. A sword unsullied and untarnished. A symbol, if you like, of the Rome we both wish to see. In a month five cohorts of the Twentieth Valeria Victrix will arrive from Britannia to join me. One of Rome’s most feared legions, I hope you will agree?’ Of course Valerius agreed; how could he not? He had served in the Twentieth as a beardless tribune. It had been the men of the Twentieth who formed the fearsome wedges which smashed into the great mass of Boudicca’s army, and the men of the Twentieth who led the slaughter that followed. Their reputation was well earned, and Valerius had watched them earn it from Suetonius Paulinus’s side. He didn’t realize that Vitellius was still speaking until he heard his own name mentioned. He looked up to find the other man’s eyes on him and his hand on the hilt of Julius Caesar’s sword.

‘I said that, unfortunately, the Twentieth’s commander’s loyalties are less certain than his men’s. He has decided to stay in Deva to await events. Since those events are likely to be fatal to his career, the Twentieth will soon be in need of a new legate. I can think of no better man to lead them than Gaius Valerius Verrens, Hero of Rome.’ For a moment Valerius’s head seemed to be filled with thunder. He saw an eagle glittering proudly above an avenue of polished helmets. His eagle. Glory and fame awaited the man who led the Twentieth. It was already a formidable instrument of war; how much greater an instrument could it be in his hands. A gladius at the heart of Rome’s enemies. Her shield against those who would harm her. The spear point of her military power.