It might be a natural Claudian attribute, but not one that worked well right then. He had to do something about it, at least as far as Vespasian went.
* * *
Gaius could barely restrain grinning as a rather wistful Timothy took his seat. He had spent weeks down at the beach, studying the tides, and he had quite a compilation of data.
"Well?" Gaius asked softly, although he was beginning to be sure of the answer.
"You were correct," Timothy said, "although I don't understand what all this means. I fixed a marked post in the estuary as you said, and recorded the times as well as I could. The tides come at more or less opposite times, and the day to day difference for the same tide is about half an hour at new moon, and a bit over an hour at half moon. The intervening high tide is about half-way between the time difference, plus twelve hours, and the day and night high tide is very close to the same height. It seems to depend a little bit on the wind too. I don't know why you wanted to know this, but. ."
"I win!" Gaius said triumphantly.
"I don't understand," Timothy said.
"Unless you can explain why the Moon would push water away from it on the far side, the Earth has to be moving," Gaius smiled. "That the sun does exactly the same thing proves that the Earth moves around the Sun. The reason is on the far side the water is being flung away because it is moving faster. It's all to do with your favourite geometry. Here, I'll show you." He took out a wax tablet, and began drawing.
"That's incredible," Timothy finally said.
"Concede the bet?" Gaius smiled.
"What do you want?" Timothy said suspiciously.
"Just your concession, old friend," Gaius replied.
"I think it's an extraordinary effort," Timothy said, then added with a grin, "but you can hardly expect me to concede without some effort. After all, you retreated to think, and you'd hardly expect me to counter that immediately."
"Of course you can have some time," Gaius said softly. "I just hoped you would see the overall beauty of it."
"I do," Timothy replied, "but that doesn't mean that that's the end of it. I must make sure you're right."
Chapter 22
The summer was almost over when the day for embarkation arrived. Representatives of each of the legions together with the entire cohorts that were scheduled to depart had been assembled before a large wooden platform. The Princeps himself would address them, or so the troops believed. There was an air of anticipation as Plautius took the stand. The favourable bubble burst when Plautius stated that the Princeps had sent Narcissus to speak on his behalf. A cacaphony of groans burst out, which became ruder and ruder. Narcissus stared at Plautius, who in turn was beginning to look afraid. This had all the makings of mutiny.
The ill temper culminated when one man from the Augusta climbed onto a rock and yelled out, "And since when do the men of the Augusta listen to a slave?"
"Io, Saturnalia!" yelled a wit from the twentieth.
There was a stunned silence for a second, then suddenly everyone burst out laughing at the look on the face of the man standing on the rock. Rhetorical questions were not supposed to be answered, particularly with a correct answer.
"That bugger just wants a cookie!" another yelled. It was common during the formalities for treats to be handed out after that chant.
"Then give him one of the Augusta's! One of their cooks makes 'em like rocks!"
"Bloody twentieth! Can't even tell the difference between winter and summer!"
Suddenly the whole assembly had broken down into an exchange of increasingly rude but ribald insults and attempted jokes at a different legion's expense. A pair of hands pulled the stunned protester down from his stone.
As the insults finally began to ebb, Narcissus took to the stand again. Rome, he said, could not have an enemy on its western flank that could come and raid as they wished, for they were not afraid of falling off the end of the world. The great Julius had crossed without difficulty, supplies had crossed for him several times, and nobody or no ship was lost other than in battle, or by storm. There would be no storms that day.
They were afraid of falling off the end of the world, were they? That would not happen. How did he know? Well, if the current was so strong that it would sweep a ship off the end of the world, a huge amount of water must be falling over continuously, right? There was a silence. The troops did not like the idea of sailing, but they had to admit that if ships were to be swept over, the water had to be going over all the time.
If seawater were falling off the end of the world, Narcissus continued, sooner or later even the sea would run out of water. The sea levels were as high now as in the times of Julius, or as in the times of the ancient Egyptians, thousands of years ago. Some fearsome loss! There was some laughter.
Then, Narcissus said, have a look at the local tides. Twice a day, the sea fell by up to thirty feet around here. Falling over the edge? Well, six hours later it all comes back again. If that's falling over the edge, it hasn't done the fish any harm! There was more laughter. Men had seen the tides, and they recognized that the water did come back, and the fish survived. Then, on top of that, Narcissus continued, look at how fast the sea comes back. If it is falling over the edge of the world, it's falling the wrong way! When was the last time any of you saw something fall up!
A barrage of rude but good-natured comments arose. The bubble of discontent had burst. Then on top of that, Narcissus added, one of the centuries had already been over there and back. And no cohort was missing a century. Rome required them to sail, and defeat these miserable Celts. Surely they were not afraid of battle?
When Narcissus stood down, Vespasian stepped forward with a small group of Praetorians. He pointed towards the first century of the first cohort, and ordered them to board before the other legions died of laughter at their spinelessness. The men felt decidedly uncomfortable, but while everyone else was laughing, there was little option. The next cohort followed, and before long boarding commenced.
When it was clear that the invasion was truly under way, Gaius sought out Timothy. "I want you to go back to Rome for a while, and travelling with Narcissus' party should be a safe way of getting there."
"You don't want me on campaign with you?" Timothy's eyes were a little downcast.
"Nothing like that at all, old friend," Gaius said as he gave Timothy's shoulder a reassuring grip. "There's something that needs to be done by someone I trust."
"That is?" his eyes lit up.
Gaius then explained the situation he was facing regarding Quintus and the corn. "The money isn't the issue," Gaius explained, "but the problem is I have left Vipsania a job, and Quintus is obviously not being cooperative. Again, by itself that's just a nuisance, but it's upsetting Vipsania, and she may not be feeling very secure, especially after what her father did."
"So, what do you want me to do?"
"First, reassure Vipsania, and while you're doing that, you can tell her what's going on here, what we've done, and so on. Secondly, see what you can find out about this corn, and you might like to set up some sort of watch for the next shipment. Finally, go with Vipsania whenever she goes to see Quintus."
"And if Quintus becomes difficult?"
"Tell him that when I get back, I shall do more unto him than that which has been done unto you and Vipsania." And that, Gaius thought to himself, was probably not what Rebecca meant, but for the moment it would have to do.