Lucius, therefore, was in a foul mood while I read him the steadily lengthening reports sent by Trabo from Ravenna and concluded that the hero of the legions was as fond of the pen as he was of the sword, which surprised me quite a bit.
‘Antonius Primus, legate in charge of the rebel legions, keeps to his camp in Verona. He has ordered that all the statues of Galba that were overturned be reinstated. The men of the VIIth Galbiana are pleased.’
‘Pantera sent a message to Lucillius Bassus yesterday telling him that Caecina was within a day’s march of Ravenna.’
‘Lucillius Bassus believes that Caecina may attack him in passing, and has put his men in readiness to fend off an assault. He has ten thousand marines at his beck, it being the winter season and the sea lanes closed.’
This last came early in the month and caused Lucius to send messengers on fast horses to warn Caecina so that he marched his men along a curving route away from the port to avoid any confrontation with the marines.
And then there was a gap of half a month with no reports at all and I feared that Trabo had been exposed and was even now in some small and bloodied room, being subjected to the same knives and hot irons and crushing devices as Lucius was using against Pantera’s suspected allies.
When, one day at the end of the month, a letter did finally arrive, it was twenty-six pages long, and even the first page tore the world apart.
‘Caecina has defected!’
I exploded into Lucius’ office, uninvited, unwelcome. I didn’t even stop to salute. ‘Of all the two-faced, insane, treacherous bastards… This is the man who got us through the mountains when everyone said it was impossible. He held us together after the mess at Cremona. He practically took the empire single-handed. What the fuck is he playing at?’
I looked up. Lucius was alone, which was a blessing, but only barely. He blinked and I came to my senses. I saw a crocodile once, when I was posted to Alexandria as a young man. They threw it a slave who had dropped a dinner plate in his master’s presence. I remember the screams sometimes, in my dreams. The crocodile had blinked as it watched them drag the wretch to the pool’s edge. Lucius’ blink was just like that.
He said, ‘Did his men defect with him?’
‘What? I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t read that far.’ I looked down at the letter.
To Geminus, centurion of the Guard, and to Juvens, greetings, from Quintus Aurelius Trabo, centurion of… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The salutations took up a third of a page. For the rest…
‘Yes,’ I said, and then, ‘Actually, no. He tried to take them. He nearly succeeded, but they resisted and arrested him. Listen.’
I read aloud from the second page of the letter.
‘… the day before the full moon in October. The weather was cold, but dry thus far although there had been some distant thunder. Our enemy, Antonius Primus, was camped with his legions at Verona, having had word from Pantera ordering him to wait in Vespasian’s name.
‘ Caecina, meanwhile, had stationed his thirty thousand men in an open space between the town of Hostilia and the river Po, his flanks defended by marshes. He was unassailable, but he was thirty miles from Verona, too far to reach it with any semblance of surprise. He had planned instead for defence in strength.
‘S oon after this, he received the unwelcome news that the Ravenna fleet had finally defected to Vespasian’s side. This was on the thirteenth of October. Caecina used this news as a reason to negotiate with Antonius Primus over the surrender of his men.’
I stopped, too angry to continue. But Lucius, he of the famous temper that could order a man’s limbs broken and his face held into a fire if he was in the right kind of filthy mood, said only, ‘What were his terms?’
And that’s when I realized it wasn’t news to him; he had sent Caecina out knowing that he was planning this, perhaps had even told him to. I just didn’t know why and I couldn’t ask. Sometimes, a sensible man doesn’t pry.
I read from the letter.
‘ Caecina’s terms were poor. He stressed the folly of civil war and pointed out the strength of the men he planned to bring to Vespasian’s cause. He asked for nothing and offered everything. His letters were read out to the rebel troops by Antonius Primus, who jeered him. He did not once mention Vitellius, nor suggest our cause was just.
‘ Antonius accepted the terms, and, on the morning of the eighteenth of October, when the men were out of camp on foraging duties, Caecina summoned the officers left in camp and proposed to them that they join him in taking their men to Vespasian’s side. By the morning’s end, they had all sworn their oaths anew to Vespasian and the portraits of Vitellius had been removed from the standards. The legions no longer owed him allegiance.
‘ That situation prevailed until the men came back for the evening meal, and noticed that all sign of their emperor had gone. They quickly gathered, forced the details out of their officers and set about reversing the deal. These were the same men who had been victorious in the spring and they intended to be victorious now. They were certainly not going to give themselves to their enemy without a fight. They arrested Caecina and put him in chains — Ha! That’ll teach the motherfucking, goat-buggering bastard…’
I faltered. Lucius was beginning to look annoyed. I read on.
‘T he loyal troops restored the images of Vitellius. All was well until the following night, when the heavens displayed their wrath at Caecina’s treachery, for the moon became bloody, dripping red to the earth, and was swallowed by the night sky, so that the men fell to their knees and prayed that the power of the omen be on Caecina’s head and not theirs.’
‘That was the night of the eclipse,’ Lucius said. ‘The eighteenth of October. Nearly half a month has passed since then. Why has it taken so long for us to hear of this?’
‘I think Trabo followed the army, and was caught up in the fighting. Do you want me to keep reading?’
‘No. If I wanted someone to read me a book, I would call a clerk. Just tell me what it says.’
So I gave him the gist: that the new commanders of Caecina’s legions, seeing the eclipse as an omen — or, at least, telling the men that’s what it was — had struck camp before dawn, crossed the river Po and cut the bridge behind them to hinder any following force, then fast-marched their men to Cremona, where the rest of Caecina’s legions had been sent.
They had covered a hundred miles in five days, which may be nothing if you’re on horseback but when you’re moving a line of men two miles long it’s five days of hard marching with little rest in between.
They got there in time, but only just.
In the interim, Antonius Primus had heard of Caecina’s attempted defection and was rejoicing that he’d won the war without bloodshed as Vespasian wanted: he didn’t know that the defection had failed. It was two days before he learned that Caecina was under arrest and his men were still loyal to Vitellius.
At around the same time, Antonius heard that General Valens had finally left Rome and was intending to catch up with the men, take command and drive them in a wedge straight at Antonius Primus’ five legions.
What could any general do but respond swiftly? Antonius Primus gathered his men and marched them quickly along the Postumian Way towards Cremona.
Yes, Cremona. Before the legions destroyed it last spring, Cremona was a small town of small wealth and small satisfactions; of wooden houses barely gilded, ragged children playing games in the street, town councillors puffed up by their own importance; of quiet people, who did not understand that the legion which came to camp outside their walls was bringing ruin. They feted them and fed them and took them into their homes and offered them every hospitality, as good citizens should.