Bedrock of Empire Read online

  Bedrock of Empire

  Thomas M D Brooke

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  Copyright © 2018 Thomas M D Brooke

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  By Thomas M D Brooke

  The Cassius Chronicles I: Roman Mask

  The Cassius Chronicles II: Bedrock of Empire

  For Lii

  Prologue

  I was amongst my men, and we were forcing our way uphill. Screams of rage and fury issued from the tribesmen as they battered against our locked shields. We made our way grimly over their dead, step by step, forcing our way ever onwards. We pushed through our fatigue, faces set in stubborn determination, thrusting worn but still deadly blades between our shields into the howling mass of Germanic tribesmen who reeled back from our spirited attack. They had been reinforced by their reserve force, which they thought should have been enough to force us back, but we kept on going, kept on striking forward. These were my men of the Eighteenth. They’d seen their comrades struck down in numbers beyond count, but still they moved against this implacable foe, wielding their weapons with deadly skill, wounding, maiming and killing with each thrust or strike. Some fought for their lost comrades, others fought for their freedom, still hoping beyond hope that this final time we might break through their lines to find an escape from this deadly trap that we’d found ourselves in. Others fought for the pride of the legion and the eagle that was held aloft behind us, the standard of the Eighteenth, still standing defiant against the Germanic tribes. Some still struggled on to help loved ones still living in the Roman towns and settlements throughout Germany, those still completely oblivious to their own danger. We hoped to get word out of this terrible betrayal so that they could be warned of their peril.

  I no longer fought for any of these reasons, my duty to those same settlements having been fulfilled when the second division behind my Eighteenth had broken from our rear and made a break for the other stockades. I now only fought for one reason, that reason being hate. Hate for Julius, hate for the man I’d once loved like a brother. If I could only do one thing left in this life, I wanted it to be killing Julius. Kill the man who had brought us to this and betrayed us. In the confused melee in front of me I could just about make out the winged helmets of Julius and his bodyguard, and I made for that direction. The German tribes reeled backwards as their ranks were thinned unexpectedly by new orders to reinforce the other stockades. I hacked and thrust with my gladius, spurred on towards Julius, determined to ram my weapon into his lying throat so that just before the light left his eyes he would know that it was me who had ended his bitter and twisted life. I broke forward with a few of my men. We were doing it; we were so close to him. Hate had given me strength; hate would help me find a way through.

  But each time I felt I was reaching him the battle shifted, and somehow he remained tantalisingly out of reach. My ferocity combined with my frustration made me reckless, so I spurred on alone, leaving my small unit of men behind me. As often happens to those who don’t keep their head on a battlefield, I found myself surrounded by Germanic warriors, who formed a circle around me. Where were the men who followed me? They couldn’t all have been struck down? I spun in confusion. Why weren’t these warriors ending it? I was alone; they could end it now.

  I struck out at them with my gladius, but the warriors seemed to meet my blade with their shields or turn my gladius with their sax blades. My weapon seemed impotent against them. I became more wild, striking out with great haymakers and erratic swings, rather than the expert thrusts that my gladius work normally showed. The warriors always managed to move out of the way of my gladius, my blade hitting either shield or, often enough, only thin air. They started to laugh at my efforts, as I desperately tried to strike at least one of them down. They let me wear myself out striking wildly, now completely spent after not landing one blow against them. I sunk to my knees in despair. They parted and another warrior came through their ranks. I knew this man. It was Ewald, the Cherusci champion. Something was wrong. Hadn’t I killed this man? No, I couldn’t have. Here he was in front of me, long blade in both hands, muscles taut in readiness. How could anyone defeat this warrior, the greatest to ever be raised in these lands of forests and blood?

  I felt my head swim, and everything changed around me. I was now bound, my hands tied behind my back, and I was being dragged by four muscular warriors. I knew where I was going. I was going to the tree – the tree that Julius had ordered me to be nailed to. I tried to struggle but I was exhausted, and these warriors were stronger than me, my efforts no more effective than those of a truculent child.

  One of them struck me and I spat out blood. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  The warrior smiled, his cracked teeth showing in an ugly grin. He told me in broken Latin, ‘Oh, you know where you’re going. You don’t need me to tell you that, do you?’

  I didn’t. I knew we were going to the tree.

  He breathed in my ear, his beard scratching the side of my face as his foetid breath swamped my senses. ‘You didn’t think you’d escaped us, did you?’

  They dragged me to the grove of oak trees and forced me to my knees. I didn’t want to look up because I knew what was there. But one of them pulled my hair back, lifting my head up, and I saw the tree that awaited me. The tree I’d always been destined to die upon.

  I felt their hands tighten around my body as they lifted me up.

  I awoke screaming, bathed in sweat. ‘No!’ I shouted.

  I felt soft hands reach around my naked torso. ‘Relax. Be calm,’ said a gentle female voice.

  My heart was beating fast. Where was the tree?

  She stroked my back and kissed the back of my neck. ‘Quiet, you don’t need to worry now. You’re back in Rome. You don’t need to be afraid any more.’

  Realisation struck. ‘Numeria,’ I said with relief.

  She embraced me from behind, her naked skin against my own. ‘Yes, I’m here. You don’t have to worry or be afraid any more.’

  Tears of relief sprang to my eyes as I let her pull me back into her embrace, and I lay my head on her bare breasts. ‘It was the tree again, Numeria.’

  She shushed me and stroked my sweat-soaked hair. ‘I know. I heard you call it from your sleep.’

  I felt my heartbeat slowly soften as I clung to her. Only a few hours before we’d been making love, and then I’d fallen back into the horror of my dreams, the dreams of the Teutoburg. ‘I’m sorry I woke you.’

  She kissed the top of my head. ‘Don’t be. I know the dreams you have are not kind. But together we’ll come through them.’

  She held me and gently calmed me by stroking my hair as I gradually drifted back to sleep. Fortunately, the dreams didn’t return that night.

  Chapter One

  Rome, AD 11

  I was distracted by a small charm of goldfinches as they flitted behind some of the statues that lined the top storey of the Basilica Julia, just off the main Forum of Rome. It was a warm day as the May sunshine beat down on the marble colonnades of the building that had been bequeathed to the city by the divine Julius Caesar after his exciting escapades in Gaul.

  I shielded my eyes from the sun as I watched the finches dart back and forth. ‘Look at the colourful birds, Silo.’

  Silo looked up expectantly, fidgeting with excitement. �
��Oh yes! Look at their pretty faces, red, white, and black.’

  I rested my hand on my young slave’s shoulder. ‘Maybe you can paint one when you get home. You can ask Badriyah to bring the paints out when we get back.’

  Silo clapped his hands in excitement. My other slave Badriyah was an accomplished painter; she’d decorated some of the walls of my home with her murals and was now showing the ten-year-old Silo the basics of her craft.

  I turned to my other companion. ‘You don’t think they have their nest up there, do you, Aulus?’

  My brother-in-law, Aulus, gave a loud theatrical sigh. ‘How should I know? I very much doubt it if the aediles have any say in it. I’m sure they don’t want any of those nuisance birds leaving their muck on the passing dignitaries.’ And he gave an impatient wave of his arm to beckon us to follow him.

  I smiled and ruffled Silo’s hair. ‘They’re not a nuisance. Surely it’s a good omen to be so favoured by such beautiful creatures.’

  Silo giggled. ‘Yuk!’

  Aulus impatiently pulled his toga around him and said, ‘Honestly, Cassius, do you think you’re an augur to the birds now? I’m sure we can find you a role in that college if you’d prefer that to helping me with my cases.’

  I laughed. ‘Even that group of charlatans might baulk at me interfering in their schemes. I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face to some of the nonsense they come up with.’

  Aulus’ face took on a panicked expression. ‘Shush, Cassius! You can’t talk about the augurs like that here. One is liable to hear you. You know they advise all the senior magistrates.’

  I gave Aulus’ shoulder a placatory pat and lowered my voice. ‘Even you told me that they just tell the magistrates what they want to hear.’

  Aulus whispered back. ‘That’s all very well, but they still hold a lot of influence, and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of them just because my supposed aide can’t keep his big flappy mouth shut. Now, are you coming or not?’

  I held up my hands in resignation and signalled him to lead the way, Silo and I following him. We were joining Aulus for a meal, after spending most of the day in the Basilica Julia, which housed the civil law courts. A year had passed since I returned from Germany, and now I was back in Rome I had found the need to find some employment. I had no wish to return to my previous lifestyle of indolence and had written to my father asking his advice on how I should start my career in public service. He had told me that to start my career I needed to be appointed as a magistrate in the Centumviral Court, the court of the hundred learned men that my father had served in as a young man. There was just one problem with this. Previously the hundred learned men had been appointed from the pool of leading families that ruled Rome, of which our patrician family was of course a part. But now, due to changes made by Augustus, the court was presided over by just ten magistrates – the decemviri. Appointed by Augustus himself, these magistrates could be relied upon to follow the illustrious imperator’s will and not embarrass the state with idiotic rulings that ignored the precedents of the Twelve Tables. So we decided that if I wanted a chance to represent that learned collective, I’d better find out how the law worked, and that meant following around my sister’s husband Aulus, who often worked as an advocate in the Centumviral Court.

  As I reluctantly caught up with Aulus, I turned around to check on Silo. ‘Are you sure you can manage that?’ I asked.

  Silo looked affronted and went bright red. ‘I’m fine.’

  Instead of using the young boy in his usual capacity to clear us a path through the crowds, he’d offered to carry the heavy shoulder bag instead. It was clear that Silo thought this a more important role, and short of wrestling the bag off him physically, I was unlikely to get him to give it up. I frowned. The reason it was so heavy was that Aulus insisted on carrying around copies of past cases he thought might be relevant to his present case, and these were inscribed with acacia gum ink on thin sheaves of wood. ‘Very well, but let me know if it gets too heavy.’

  Aulus snapped at us. ‘Will you two hurry up?’

  I gave him a deep frown. ‘This is your fault. These wooden sheaves are too cumbersome. I can’t see why you don’t use wax tablets like everyone else. Then you can reuse them, save us from carrying around a whole library wherever we go.’

  Aulus gave me a deeply grumpy look. ‘There is no need to exaggerate, Cassius. If your slave cannot handle the bag, carry it yourself.’

  Silo looked mortified that I might take away his charge and held it behind his back. I gave him a smile and ruffled his hair again. I let him keep it. Carrying anything in a toga wasn’t really practical so I had little choice. We caught up with my brother-in-law.

  ‘I would have thought you’d be in a more cheerful mood, Aulus. The magistrate granted your wish. The court case will go ahead as planned tomorrow.’

  Aulus gave a deep sigh. ‘Yes, I should be pleased. But I was surprised by the opposing lawyer’s defence. I was expecting him to claim that the ten thousand denarii was only owed if the slave survived the first fight. That might have been very difficult to argue against and what I’d prepared for. The magistrate could have quite easily decided there was no case to answer and thrown it out.’

  The case Aulus was representing seemed straightforward enough. He was representing a man named Fonteius, who’d taken over the estate of his elderly aunt, who’d recently passed over into the void. I was coming to realise that most of the cases that came up before the Centumviral Court centred around contested wills and the thorny issue of inheritance. What was unusual about this case was the estate included – alongside a sizable house on the Quirinal Hill – a gladiator named Telesinus. Shortly before the death of the aunt, Telesinus had been killed in his first bout, and Fonteius was demanding compensation for the loss of this prize asset.

  I gave a great scoff. ‘Ten thousand denarii is a ridiculous amount to pay for any slave. No matter how promising and athletic he appeared. You never know how proficient a swordsman is until he is faced with another man intent on killing him.’

  Telesinus was said to be no ordinary slave. Allegedly fast and strong, allied to a large frame that was remarked upon wherever he went. It had been enough for a gladiator trainer – the defendant in the case – to offer the family who owned him ten thousand denarii, an astronomical amount for an untried prospect.

  Aulus wetted his hair down again with his hand. It always amazed me how vain Aulus could be, despite only having a few strands of hair left; he’d never let them fall out of place. He continued walking. ‘The money was still owed, whether the slave lived or died. My client who inherited the estate is clearly entitled to this unpaid debt.’

  Silo came between the two of us, still labouring under the weight of the heavy bag. ‘Well, I didn’t like Fonteius. He had a villainous look about him. I don’t trust him.’

  Aulus looked at me sharply. ‘Cassius, will you instruct your slave not to speak of our client in such unflattering terms. Fonteius is worthy of our respect.’

  I gave a slight shake of my head and put a protective arm around Silo. ‘I don’t know, Aulus. I think I’m with Silo on this one. The man never once met my eye. I’m sure he’s hiding something.’

  Our client Fonteius came endowed with an impressively large belly, thick greasy black curls over a pockmarked face and heavy stubble. That was the trouble working in the law courts; most of the clients you represented were as unscrupulous as an Egyptian moneylender.

  Aulus sighed. ‘Yes, that’s what’s worrying me. They claim that subterfuge was used by Fonteius in persuading his aunt to sell the slave.’

  I held my toga closer together. ‘Could this scupper your case?’

  Aulus shrugged. ‘I don’t see how. Under Roman law, mutual wickedness cannot be used to defend one’s own bad behaviour. However Fonteius convinced his aunt to part with the slave shouldn’t matter – the gladiator trainer, Antinous, still owes the estate the sum agreed.’

  I gave a resigned shake
of my head. ‘Such charming people you work with. Are there any other claimants to the estate?’

  Aulus looked slightly more assured. ‘Fortunately not. The deceased aunt had a son, but he died in Dacia three years ago. After that, it appears she lived in her large home with her equally elderly freedwoman and the slave boy Telesinus. Her nephew, Fonteius, was her only heir.’

  I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘Whatever happened to the freedwoman?’

  Aulus gave me an irritated look. ‘I have no idea, Cassius, but I hardly think it likely to be relevant.’

  I gave up trying to discuss the subject any further; it wasn’t as if I was that interested in the case anyway. Law wasn’t turning out to be as interesting as I’d hoped. We walked through the Roman Forum where the court case was due to be heard the next day. The Forum was as impressive as ever, the large rectangular marble-lined plaza surrounded by imposing government buildings that formed the centre of Roman public life. Roman citizens gathered throughout its expanse, meeting friends, business partners, or other acquaintances, as street entertainers intermingled between the groups and tried to catch their eye.

  ‘So where are you taking us, Aulus?’ I asked him as we walked across Rome’s great square, sandalled feet slapping against the travertine stone that Augustus had paved the Forum with at great expense.

  Aulus looked to be in deep thought, his mind still preoccupied with the case, before belatedly turning to me. ‘Hmm … what? Oh, I keep a small place near to the centre of Rome. It saves me having to trek all the way back up the Pincian Hill to my home. I find I can get much more work done this way.’

  I smiled inwardly. No doubt the reason he managed to get more work done wasn’t due entirely to convenience; an excuse to avoid having my interfering sister asking questions every few moments probably also had a bearing on it. ‘Nice,’ was all I said, hiding my grin.