Sword of Rome(99)
‘How long to Lugdunum?’
‘Another day’s sailing. The smoke you see is from Cabillonum. Lugdunum is fifty miles downstream, where the Sauconna joins the Rhodanus. The Sauconna is wider and deeper than the Doubus we’ve just left, but still tricky to navigate in places. Normally, I would berth here and transfer you to another galley, but my orders are to take you as far as you wish to go. The little scorpion seemed happy to be rid of you on any terms.’
Valerius smiled at the nickname, so appropriate for the touchy bureaucrat at Vesontio. ‘In that case you will not mind if I ask you to take us as far south as Vienne, or even Valentia?’ The sailor’s eyes widened a fraction, but he hid his surprise well. ‘It depends where we can most easily replace our horses,’ Valerius went on. ‘And on the best way to catch up with General Valens.’
‘In that case, Valentia,’ Marcellus said decisively. ‘Our transports have been carrying remounts there for weeks.’ A shadow fell over the cheerful, pink-cheeked features. ‘Even now the general must be preparing to cross into Italia.’
Valerius allowed a sympathetic smile to touch his lips. ‘These are troubled times,’ he said evenly. ‘But a man cannot serve two masters.’ It was a statement, but a statement that contained a question and Marcellus eyed him warily.
‘My only master is the governor of Gallia Lugdunensis … but I have no wish to see Roman fighting Roman.’
Valerius clapped him on the shoulder. ‘A good answer, Marcellus. You may even keep your head until this madness is over.’
As he moved away, Valerius’s cloak slipped aside and he saw the young man dart a glance at his right arm. The mottled stump identified him as surely as any slave brand and he had been careful to keep it hidden during the voyage. Annoyed with himself, he turned back so his face was close to the younger man’s and he kept his voice low and filled with menace.
‘Best to forget you ever saw that, boy. There’s nothing but grief for you there.’
Valens’ main force had used the right bank of the river as their line of march and from time to time the Pride of Sauconna would pass piles of charred timbers that had once been a town or a village, often with figures rooting among the ashes for the burned remnants of their lives. All too often there would be a mound of newly dug earth that spoke eloquently of whatever minor tragedy had been enacted there. Once they reached the Rhodanus at Lugdunum that changed. Marcellus explained that the elders of the city had been the first to recognize Vitellius and had welcomed Valens like a conquering hero.
‘He entered the city to a triumph worthy of an Emperor,’ the sailor said. ‘They opened up the storerooms and the treasury and bade him take what he wished. It may be different when we reach Vienne, where people are less enthusiastic about our new Emperor, but possibly not. Two weeks ago bloated corpses were a more common sight on this river than ducks. The Viennese will be aware of the price they would pay if they attempted to delay the army of Vitellius.’
Every mile south brought a small, but welcome, warming of the air and the mood among Valerius’s men became almost festive as they realized how close they were to home and relative safety. A few miles downriver from Vienne, with Valentia less than half a day away, he drew Metto aside.
‘We are still in hostile territory and the closer we get to the Vitellian army the more hostile it will get. In a few days it will be different, but for the moment the only way we’ll all stay alive is to act like surly, incommunicative Batavian barbarians. Make sure your men know that. I don’t intend to get killed because some idiot from the fifth rank thinks he’s on furlough, and the first one who forgets that will find the point of Serpentius’s dagger in his ear.’
‘I’ll make sure the men understand,’ the big centurion growled. ‘My arse is as valuable to me as yours is to you, tribune, and you won’t need your Spanish assassin to put the fear of death into them. I’ll take care of that myself.’
The next morning they woke to find Valentia looming over the river from a hillside on the east bank and Marcellus brought them into the quay with barely a bump. Valerius thanked the young sailor and wished he had some kind of compensation for the crew.
‘I will buy them a flagon of wine in the nearest tavern and they will be happy enough,’ Marcellus said soberly. He looked out over the river. ‘A strange journey for strange times, but at least the chill is seeping from my bones. Edging your way up and down the Doubus day after day can be wearing, and the cold wind from the east gives a man aches that make him old before his time. I will not shake your hand, but you need not fear I will broadcast its lack. Though I do not know your name, I sense an honest man behind that fierce mask you wear and I wish you well in your mission, whatever it is.’ The last was said with a twinkle that told Valerius his subterfuge was not as subtle as he thought it had been. Marcellus grinned at the look of consternation and saluted farewell.