‘You told me to!’ Paelignus shrieked, pointing an accusatory, shaking, chewed finger at Vespasian.
‘No, Paelignus, all I did was to suggest that while there was a period of instability in our client kingdom of Armenia it might be wise to keep an eye on its southern border with Parthia. I’m not the procurator of Cappadocia, I had no authority to order an invasion, because that’s what it is, isn’t it? You commanded it, you assembled the troops and you’ve led them. Now I suggest that having broken the treaty with Parthia you garrison Tigranocerta to prevent it falling to our old enemy. It’s either that or return to Cappadocia having prodded the Parthian beast and giving it a good reason to go into an undefended Armenia. Not even your close relationship with the Emperor would get you out of that mess.’ Vespasian turned to leave. ‘I suggest you get busy, Paelignus.’
‘Are you ever going to explain to me just what you’re trying to achieve?’ Magnus hissed as he followed Vespasian out of the room.
‘Yes,’ Vespasian replied without venturing any further information.
‘When?’
They walked in silence down the corridor past gangs of slaves stripping the building of anything valuable under the supervision of the auxiliary quartermasters. Vespasian tutted with regret that Paelignus was enriching himself with such ease but he knew that was the price to be paid for the procurator’s folly that would advance Tryphaena’s ambitions in Armenia. Besides, he would not possess his new wealth for long. What mattered was that Paelignus’ greed and vanity had driven him to sack a peaceful town that was part of a kingdom allied to Rome in direct contravention of all treaties with both Armenia and Parthia. News of the outrage would spread and condemnation would come from all sides. With one rash act the procurator had given Parthia a just cause for war and also given Radamistus reason to appeal to the Emperor in protest at Rome’s unprovoked attack.
‘Tryphaena’s objective is to secure her nephew Radamistus on the Armenian throne,’ Vespasian informed Magnus.
‘Then she’s got a strange way of going about it, getting you to persuade the procurator of a Roman province to invade, even if it is with a piss-poor little army.’
‘I didn’t persuade Paelignus to do anything; I just suggested things. However, that piss-poor little army, as you term it, has just done more for Tryphaena’s cause than if she had ten legions of her own. When Parthia invades and overruns Tigranocerta and then moves north to take Artaxata, Rome will be obliged to send in the legions, no doubt under Corbulo’s command.’
‘Great, so what?’
‘So who will be leading the Armenian resistance and allied with our legions?’
Understanding began to spread over Magnus’ face. ‘Radamistus,’ he said slowly. ‘And then when it’s all over in three or four years’ time and Parthia has withdrawn, Radamistus stays as king because he was our ally and the fact that he murdered Mithridates will be conveniently forgotten.’
‘Precisely.’
‘And Nero, her other kinsman, will be emperor by that time and earn the glory of a Parthian defeat.’
‘And will no doubt be voted the name Parthaticus by the Senate, myself amongst them, after celebrating his Triumph.’
‘And meanwhile a whole lot more people like that girl we saw earlier are going to suffer.’
Vespasian shrugged as they clattered down a staircase of ancient oak. ‘I don’t like it any more than you, but what can I do? I’m trapped. I’m meant to be working for Pallas in order to help him protect himself from Agrippina and then I’m also meant to be working for Narcissus in order to help him bring down Agrippina; but I end up working for Tryphaena who’s trying to secure Agrippina as the mother of the next emperor because she has persuaded me that whatever Agrippina might think of me, Nero is my best chance of advancement.’
‘Nero?’
‘Yes; and having listened to her arguments, I agreed with her, but not for all the reasons that she put forward, although some of them were very persuasive.’
‘How would Nero becoming emperor possibly help you?’
Vespasian pushed open the main door that led out to the town’s agora; smoke stung his eyes and caught in his throat. The carnage still continued, although with less vigour than before as most of the population had by now either fled or been despatched. ‘That’s hard to say in logical terms because it’s really just a hunch — but a very strong one based upon the auspices of a sacrifice that I made. Let me put it into your vernacular: judging by the way that he makes free with his own mother, I think that Nero’s got more chance than Britannicus of fucking up on a fucking large scale.’
CHAPTER VIII
Even though its walls were not intact, Tigranocerta was impressive, cascading down a high foothill of the Masius range. Framed by snow-capped peaks soaring up behind it, the city was built in concentric squares, each one higher than the last until the hill’s summit was crowned with a royal palace of Caligulan proportions. It had been founded by King Tigranes the Great, over a hundred years before when Armenia was at the height of its power. It lay on the western bank of the Tigris, opposite the river’s confluence with one of its tributaries, the Kentrites. It had been built to guard the Royal Road as it followed the eastern bank of the Tigris through the narrow Sapphe Bezabde pass in the Masius range; the road then bridged the Kentrites and then swung west, carrying on its journey to the Aegean Sea. However, an army could leave the road before the bridge and follow the Kentrites north into the heartland of Armenia. To guard against incursions from his larger but more fractured neighbour, the Seleucid Kingdom, Tigranes had built two further bridges connecting Tigranocerta with the road, both across the Tigris: one to the east bank before the river reached its confluence with the Kentrites and making its ninety-degree turn to the west, and one after the bend to the north bank. Strategically this forced any invading Seleucid force to take both bridges and then the city itself if it wished to proceed without a constant threat to its one supply line through the Sapphe Bezabde pass. The inevitable lengthy process of the siege gave Tigranes time to assemble his army and march south to repel the Seleucid invaders. But that vestige of Alexander’s empire had been ripped apart by Rome and Parthia, and since the rise of those two superpowers Tigranocerta had changed hands many times, occupied both by Rome and Parthia until the most recent settlement, which had handed it back to Armenia on condition that its defences remained in ruins. That condition was now being broken, much to the relief of its reduced population.
‘Paelignus complained to me this morning about his precious troops being used for what he terms “slaves’ work”,’ Vespasian said as he and Magnus made a tour of the works on the fifth day after their arrival. Auxiliaries worked shoulder to shoulder with all able-bodied male citizens while the women and children kept their menfolk supplied with food and water.
‘Just goes to show how little he knows about soldiering,’ Magnus said through a half-chewed mouthful of onion. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘I suggested to him that he should address his complaint to the commanding officer and pointed out that of all people he was the person most likely to get a fair hearing.’
Magnus laughed, spraying onion over the calves of a kneeling auxiliary shaping stone with a hand-pick. The man turned round, invective ready on his lips, but it stayed there and died when he saw who was responsible. Since the sack of Amida, ten days previously, Vespasian and Magnus had become objects of curiosity to the auxiliaries. It was known that Vespasian had prevented Paelignus from giving the men two days’ rest — one of the centurions gossiping, he assumed — and it was also known that he had recommended some executions to help bring the men back into line; over twenty had lost their lives. This had made Vespasian someone to fear: a man who ostensibly held no command and yet could order death and countermand their commander. Being auxiliaries raised in Cappadocia, none of them recognised Vespasian from Rome where his time as consul, admittedly for only two months, had made him a familiar face in the Forum Romanum, but not here in the southern foothills of the Masius mountains between the Tigris and the Euphrates. So the rank and file did not know Vespasian’s identity and the officers, if they did, kept it to themselves, having been warned to do so.